An Inspector Falls

Last night, as the wife and I were sat around the fire, ignoring the chill and misty weather outside, we heard the sounds of a hunt in full cry, a short distance from us. We wondered why a hunt would be out so late, especially since they now have to shoot the fox. Then, when we realised the hounds were from the Pudding Norton College pack of wolf-hounds, we stopped wondering. There are no wolves in Britain, and there had been persistent rumours that Pudding Norton College was going to be inspected. So, when we heard a frenzied knocking at our door, I sent the butler to investigate.

A dishevelled man in a torn suit fell into our hall, a sheaf of papers dropping from his hand. Before he expired, he recovered enough to tell us that he was the last living member of a crack team of HMI Inspectors, sent to investigate reports that Pudding Norton College was not all its prospectus promised.

For Example, while the prospectus showed a stately castle, the inspectors found a group of

squalid sheds.

They had been made suspicious by the fact that a number of the pictures in the Prospectus were labelled 'Dunraven Castle', a mansion near Bridgend, Wales.

We shall be presenting further shocking secrets tomorrow.