Tag 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!

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.

Ermahgerd, I blerged!

I’m back! Well, as “back” as I can be seeing as how I never actually went anywhere.

Anyway, I’ve brushed the e-dust off the blog (damn stuff gets everywhere) because I want a place to put a few things:

  • Multirotor stuff. I’ve built a tricopter! It’s based on a these RCExplorer designs, but with a few modifications of my own, which I’d like to document in case they’re useful to anyone else. You’ll be able to read about it here, and see it looming ominously in a patch of sky above you soon.
  • Software. I’m planning to tidy up a few scripts and programs I’ve written and publish them.
  • Squidy! It’s been a while, but the plot thickens.

I’ve also had a bit of a tidy up, fixing broken links and layout issues.

More to come soon!

Must try harder…

Aww, it was all going so well. At least a post a month. For three whole months! Three! That’s loads! And now, nearly a quarter of a year has passed since I last squirted words into your face. Terribly sorry about that. I know you love the squirting.

So, what have I been up to? Well, more of the same really, which is partly why I haven’t really felt compelled to write anything. The summer (I assume that was it? Yeah? OK, thanks, British weather) was filled with many, many normal days of working, going to gigs, going to derby, and going to weddings. Ah, the weddings. What is wrong with you people? Everyone and their fiancée seems to be tying the knot this year. I’m starting to think that either I missed a memo, or the government are starting to put something in the water.

Anyhoo, this is intended to be a sort of keepalive I guess; assurance that I’m not dead (though I do seem to have picked up the sniffles from everyone else in the office – cheers guys), and a vague promise/hope that I should come up with something interesting to write about soon. (If not, then I guess you can assume that with this post, the blog faded away rather than burnt out.)

Oh, and the fearless fuchsia figurine? Sadly, I’ve still not had time to investigate his disappearance (I’ve been way too busy with this). I’m sure he’s OK though. Four months is only a few seconds in sponge time. Or something.

Peace out.

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.