This week I’ve been doing a lot of thinking rather than a lot of writing. Being stuck in traffic is like that. And I’ve been thinking about my victim. Well one of them. A chap by the name of Sir Martin Hamblebee. In my head he’s a nasty piece of work. A bully. A pompous boar of a man who deserves to die.

But he’s not coming across like that on the written page . Yes he’s  short tempered. His family don’t like him. But so far there’s no evidence of brutality. No evidence of ruthlessness.  No reason to fist pump the air on discovering him face down in his Times.

My  gut tells me he needs to threaten some of the house guests but not about their private lives. He doesn’t have enough interest in them as human beings to do that. So, if I may, let me work…