The Guvnah has had a death threat. Incredible.
I've not really mentioned this in these pages before, or even in public, but I am sometimes cursed with a mild affliction. Tinyhood.
It seems that my regenerative DNA is particularly prone to the magical influences of Tanglewood, the Caledon woodland territory, and upon entry a 'startling metamorphosis occurs'. Hence me not getting down to HQ much. Truly, this a strange and magical place.
Terry, in between initial fits of laughter, assures me this more common than I would have previously though. It seems others are prone to the same involuntary shape-shifting whimsy. Ironic, but I do seem to have maintained my Time Lord wits about me, and the disproportionate strength indicative of my species. This, so far, has stopped most people taking the Michael.
Luckily this process is reversed once I come under the psychic field of the ETC, leaving only a hankering for the great outdoors and a slight smell of acorns on my breath. So far I have kept this from Drillon who would have a field day on the matter.
And so it is, in my unwilling role as 'Colonel', I have been called to action. I have for a while been forming a unit of likely diminutive souls, and it's good for the fae and the rodents to have something to keep them out of trouble. The Shang has now pressed us into service.
I am honoured to say, the 'Tanglewood Gun Bunnys' will now form a part of the Guvnahs personal guard. Assorted heavily armed hedgerow creatures are now stationed around the mansion and with his-knibs at all times.
Heaven help us all.