Friday, November 9, 2007
The gang needed a good talking to. They had utterly failed in the organisation of my prison break. The tunnel was a wash out. If it had not been for my fast thinking I would still be incarcerated.
We are supposed to be a dangerous revolutionary group who strike fear in the hearts of the establishment. We are supposed to be vicious and scary. We are supposed to rob the rich and give to the poor - well at least a percentage to them. Can't give em to much otherwise they would then be rich and we would have to rob it back off them.
Instead, everyone is laughing at us because that fat tyrant always seems to best us.
I told the gang that we needed a foolproof plan and if someone did not come up with something pronto the Black Tom was going to be rationed.
Hootman looked thoughtful. This better be good I told him.