Category Archives: Squidgygate

Squidgy has been spotted. On the other side of the world!

After years of torment, finally an update on the Squidygate scandal, from across the pond.

In short, IT WAS STEVE!

steve_ted
The perpeTRAITORS and their hapless victim; Steve, Ted and Super-Squidgy

The curly-haired blighter kidnapped Squidgy (or, at least, Super-Squidgy) to take on a jolly across the States, and he’s had the audacity to blog about it. (Warning: this post contains lies!)

There are some great pictures over on Steve and Ted’s blog.

I will be having some strong words when Steve returns next week.

An update on Squidygate

It’s been a while since I’ve posted any updates on Squidygate. This is partly because very little has happened (maybe the kidnapper is running out of ideas?), but mainly because I’ve been way too busy with actual work. I know, it’s a shocking state of affairs.

I’ve had two more notes since the last update:

At least this confirms that Squidgy wasn’t brutally murdered.

This one, on the other hand, is just baffling. There are definitely no dolphins in the office. I checked.

The horror…

Is this the end? Am I really too late? The latest envelope contained a grizzly message:

I could hardly bring myself to look at the horrors portrayed, but once my nerves had settled, I saw a glimmer of hope; the terrible scene seemed to be faked; could this be yet another cruel mind game played by the kidnapper?

I hope so, or this is now a murder investigation.

Holding out for a hero…

I was beginning to think that the kidnapper had got bored of toying with my emotions, as I’d had no news about Squidy’s condition for several days. But then, this arrived.

More torture. How much more could the little guy take? I needed help. Fortunately, my call was answered. Rather than explain how, I thought I’d illustrate it, a picture being worth a thousand words and all that…

I swear that’s how it happened.

Pickled scorpions and the chirography of abductors…

The hunt for Squidgy continues. I’m starting to feel like a proper detective, conducting my investigation in the vein of the fictional greats: Sam Spade or Philip Marlowe. Or Scooby-Doo. Although probably with poorer diction.

Anyway, I soon found the tiger. It turns out that it wasn’t on anyone’s desk, but one of the office bookshelves, so the kidnapper is apparently moving Squidgy around to avoid the chance that I’ll recognise where he sits from the photos. A dead end. Disheartened, I headed home.

When I reached my flat, I found another note nestling amongst the junk mail. The threats were no longer constrained to the workplace. The case had taken a worrying turn.

I’m not sure why we have a pickled scorpion in the office, but I never imagined it would be used to threaten a small spongey man. (I never imagined that I’d type those words either…)

Back to the case. The letter was delivered by Her Majesty’s Royal Mail, the envelope franked from the office machine, and dated March 22nd. The address was scrawled in the same childish writing as the others (the poor pensmanship either an attempt to mask the kidnapper’s true hand, or the result of too little practice; the product of years of communicating solely via the medium of the qwerty keyboard).

I collected my thoughts, idly turning the envelope over and over in my hands as I wondered what kind of monster had written those words. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw something. Holding the envelope up to the light, I could just make out a series of faint indentations on its face, angled to the rest of the writing.

A message. Not intended for me, but for the operator of the franking machine. Instructions on how to send the mail and who should cover the expense; at one point written on a note attached to the outside of the envelope, but written with just enough force to leave a faint imprint below it.

That strange handwriting, the sight of which I had learned to fear, had betrayed the identity of its owner. I had a name.

Zoinks!

Showers and tigers? The plot thickens…

More disturbing news on Squidgygate; as I expected, a note was waiting for me when I got into work this morning:

Being mostly sponge, I imagine Squidgy could withstand more than his fair share of water torture, but I’m sure even he would have limits. The photo was clearly taken in the changing room showers. Who knows what horrors he witnessed in there? This was next to useless for my investigation; nothing to pin the photo on a particular time or person.

Shortly after lunchtime, a second note appeared in the internal mail:

This one was more confusing – The creature looks friendly, so I took a little solace in the fact that Squidgy didn’t appear to be in immediate danger. But what to make of the comment? The language suggests that he’s begun fraternising with his kidnapper. Maybe Stockholm syndrome was beginning to set in? Then again, maybe Charlie Sheen is behind the whole thing…

I hope that the kidnapper may have slipped up with this one – surely there can’t be that many tigers in the office? (Or floppy disks for that matter, this is 2011 for God’s sake.) I think the most sensible course of action is to go tiger hunting. Now where’s my pith helmet?

Indroducing Squidgy. And “Squidgygate”.

A pretty leftfield post this, but I’ve been asked to document the ongoing office prank senseless crime which has become known as Squidgygate. So far it remains unsolved, but I’m blaming my friend Steve, ‘cos this is the kind of thing he’d do.

Some background then:

As part of my job, I have to check that the software we write plays nicely with a variety of devices, so we’re constantly taking shipments of shiny new toys to test with. Now, as any kid will tell you (and trust me, software developers are just big kids), the most fun and interesting part of any new toy is not the toy itself, but the packaging. Anyway, on February 15th, after combining the aforementioned packaging with a few unfolded paperclips, Squidgy was born. I proudly posted the following on twitter:

Had a spare minute at work today, so quite literally made a friend 😛

squidgy_intro

 

I sent an email round introducing him and asking my colleagues to make him feel welcome (as we do for all new employees), and he soon settled in. Squidgy lived happily on my desk for several weeks, bringing joy to all who walked by.

Then it happened.

On the morning of the 16th March, I arrived at my desk, coffee in hand, to find that he was gone. Nowhere to be seen. My throat went dry as I slumped in my chair, questions racing through my yet-to-be-caffeinated brain. Had he run away? Had I offended him? Is it normal to be concerned for the wellbeing of sponge?

That afternoon, a single sheet of A4 appeared in my mail tray. Guilt was soon replaced by fear and deep-seated concern for my missing friend:

squidgy_note_1

Kidnapped! Who could do such a thing? No demands, just a cruel taunt. A terrifying reminder of Squidgy’s mortality. I started asking around, not sure who I could trust (though I suspected it was Steve). I set up a watch on the mail trays, hoping to catch the perpetrator if he tried to deliver another message. The next day, I found another note:

 

squidy_note_2

Look at his little face! He’s clearly terrified. Worryingly, the kidnapper had gotten wise to my stakeout, as this note was addressed to me in a sealed envelope, delivered in the internal mail. Undeterred, I continued investigating. I noticed that both notes showed the same ink spots on the left hand side of the paper. Our office has a printer on each floor, with all of the computers set to print to their own floor’s printer by default. Mine was clean, but after a quick hunt round I discovered that the printer on the floor below had a dodgy cartridge. I started to form a list of suspects. Steve works on the floor below, and so became prime suspect.The next day another note arrived. This one delivered by a colleague who claims to have found it.

squidgy_note_3

 

My colleague claims that the note was found early that morning, before most people had gotten in to the office. The list of suspects was narrowing (but still included Steve). I decided to launch a campaign for further information (and to put some pressure on Steve), including a photo fit made from bits of Steve’s Facebook photos:

steve_photofit

 

Sadly no one offered any information (apart from several comments expressing the horror that the photo fit had instilled in them). As another day passed, I found another note:

squidy_note_4

This is getting serious. I’m back in the office tomorrow, so I’ll keep digging. I just hope it’s not too late…