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I thought I was a friggin' mermaid.
I remember once having jumped in a hotel pool after midnight, and 2 Belgian guys commenting “elle naaage comme un poissoooon“.
To the Good Michael:
The pool story didn't involve alcohol. Nor skinny dipping (which wouldn't be your business anyway). But I'm afraid I'm a hydrophiliac. (My paraphilia is hydrophilia, extending from bodies of water to snow and ice.)
Might there a cure for that? By?
Mike, it's all there. Wore pepper 'n' salt colour jacket, salt 'n' vinegar colour trousers, cloth cap with pike. Gutted Skate Eddowes and chalked message referring to "The Jaws" outside building that is now fish and chip shop. Persuaded a troubled Druitt he was a fish, with tragic results. Wrote Dear Bass letter and sent kidney to George Hakin Lusk...
Actually Barnett's halibut was fishy – for the wee hours of the morning, when apparently Mary Kelly died. (Interesting also that a CAT might be included in the circumstantial evidence. Suzy Hanney might be slightly acquainted with said cat.)
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