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The Sleuth Weekend.

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The Sleuth Weekend John Smithe was a farmer who was deeply in love with every part of the agricultural world. He lived alone, on his private land in Norfolk. He had a three-floored detached house. The only person, or living thing, that he has to talk to is his dog, which he kindly named Spot. He was a bulky man, almost a body builder, of height about six feet seven inches. He had a chest the size of a tree trunk (around fifty inches). His legs were also nearly as big as his chest making it hard for him to walk; he walked very stiff, as though he could not move his muscles. It showed how hard he worked for a living and how much graft he actually put into his work, aiming to get as much money out of his crops as he possibly could. His hands were the size of Mohammed Ali's fists when he was in a fight. He wore dungarees nearly everyday because he had no visitors, so he did not have to worry about what he looked like. ...read more.


It said, in a few words, that he had won a prize, a gold prize (which could have been a week in Spain, in a private villa, or a new car). As he had never won anything in his life he wanted to know what he had won, so he rang the phone number and was told that he had won a super sleuth weekend. He rushed into saying yes to the offer and never thought about any consequences. Once he put the phone down, he checked the phone book for a taxi and he booked up a taxi for the following day, when he was going to depart from his house for the weekend. He also booked a place for his dog in a kennel for the weekend. He warned his buyers that they would have to wait for their crops as he was taking a break, one that he had not taken for twenty years. The next day, the taxi arrived; he put his suitcase in and departed for the sleuth weekend. When he arrived at the mansion the taxi driver pulled up at the heavy, dark, creaking iron gates, at the front of the mansions grounds, which directly opened when he stopped. ...read more.


He counted that there were six of them, an old lady, named Violet, a couple, named Susan and Alan and another couple named Maria and Ben. They all seemed fairly cheerful to be there, and were already guessing the culprit. They were beginning to get to know each other when the maid called them into the dining room. They were showed to their seats and Smithe was pleased with the cleanliness of the cutlery. They stayed standing until the owner, Mr Michaels, entered. "Please sit," Mr Michaels requested from the guests. "Dinner is served" he said "with the finest wine in Britain." "Where is the old lady, sorry, Violet?" Smithe asked. "Oh! The meaty one," he mumbled, "She had to go to her room, she was feeling smashed to pieces," Michaels smiled looking pleased with himself. " Here is your tea, please feel obliged to lift the lids." "Excuse me what do we have? Mr Michaels" Susan wanted to know. "Yeah, it certainly does not look like proper meat to me." Added Maria " Do not panic," laughs Michaels, "you have a calf, Maria, Susan you have breast, Smithe you have intestines, Alan you have liver and finally Ben you have a kidney, a full one, please tuck in. Enjoy yourself because the weekend has just begun! " ...read more.

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