Custom Search

The daily struggles of chicken bones on the streets of east London.

Sunday Snackbox: Crime Bones




This is a right old whodunnit. That is blood next to the fork, not ketchup slop. Maybe the drunk dickhead stabbed themselves in the mouth as they were eating, which made them smash their Stella for miles, and drop their dinner. Solved: It was Colonel Bitchtits, on Great Eastern Street with a Fork. I ALWAYS win Cluedo.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...