Emma, Patrick and I were most disturbed to hear today that Dr Fox was involved in an accident on Friday and is still in hospital. What I heard from Mrs Steedman's mouth was He fell off his bike and what Patrick heard from the same mouth at the same time was He fell onto a spike. Now, usually this would be an easy linguistic mistake to remedy, but Mrs Steedman is Swedish and has a slight accent and so really it could have been either. (Personally, and I'm not being biased, but I am leaning more toward my own judgement, since a) I was closer, b) I have superhuman hearing, and c) let us face the fact that it is more probable.)
Patrick and I discussed the curious incident all the way to our Classics lecture, conjecturing the possibilities and coming up with a compromise: perhaps what happened was, Dr Fox fell off his bike onto a spike. Crazier things have happened.
We then proceeded to break the horrifying news to several fellow Classics students, two of whom looked tertiary, one of whom was named Jamie, and the fourth of whom was extraordinarly tall and waistcoated. Patrick seemed to take perverse pleasure in reiterating it four times over, but perhaps this was more because we were the only ones in the know and he is the self-proclaimed number one fan of Dr Fox. Even so, a little too much relishing...a certain flash about the eyes...
"Aw, I was imagining him on some Ducati beast, cruising down Great Western Road :(."
"No Patrick, it was a bicycle."
"How do we know?"
"Because we followed him last week, remember?"
"Jamie, Rosie and me have horrible news... It's about Fox..."
"Oh dear God. He's not straight is he O_O?"
"So, either he fell off his bike, or he fell onto a spike, or both."
"...He's so cool. Even his injury rhymes."
I suspect we shall rendezvous some time this week to discuss the case further. Pending an investigative conclusion, the six of us are holding T-shirt Guy accountable for what will henceforth be known as The Assassination Of Doctor Fox.
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