Taggart: There's Been A Moardah!

All week at the Pink House it's been Murder Week.

Names are all put in a hat and players then draw three pieces of paper listing victim, location and murder weapon. All the information is, obviously, a secret.

The week is then spent holding a frying pan whilst trying to cajole your victim into coming into the back courtyard with you, whilst simultaneously looking askance at anyone holding a cricket bat and asking you "to give them a hand with something in the kitchen".

When you kill someone, you take on their intended victim and the person with the most kills presumably wins a prize.

So far, I have killed Jamie from Scotland. I drew his name along with the cupboard in the back courtyard as the location and football as a weapon.

As luck would have it he was in the back courtyard playing cards sat between some bird he was trying to pull and Marcos from Chile. Still not close enough to the cupboard though.

I bided my time and waited until Marcos, his room mate got up, before diving in. "Jamie. I need to kill Marcos" I whispered "Come over here, you need to tell me what room you're in". At first I didn't think he'd go for it, but after a lull he got up from the bench.

Closer, closer. Come on. He was level with the cupboard. Now! I tapped him with the football.

"You're dead" I said.

"Shit" he said.

"Give me your card" I said

He did. Who did I have to kill now? Me. He was tasked with killing me in the computer room with the cricket bat. Since I would have to be very stupid to kill myself, I had to draw again.

This time I got Fiona in the Front Courtyard with....wait for it......a unicycle. I assume they were running out of ideas for weapons. The problem with this was that I didn't know Fiona very well, and certainly couldn't talk her into coming to the Front Courtyard with me with a unicycle tucked under my arm.

So I waited until Tuesday night when everyone goes to The World Bar, exiting through the front courtyard. I placed the unicycle outside ready, and as we all set off I pounced.

"Fiona, I need to know how to kill Lyndon (her boyfriend). Come here, I need to know what room you're in."

It worked once. Maybe it will work again, I thought.

No. It didn't.

Fiona looked at me like I was an actual murderer. For a second, I thought she was going to go for it, but after a few microseconds of contemplation she went "No. Get away from me, Phil" and half trotted/scurried away into the crowd whilst looking back over her shoulder at me.

This is what it must be like to be a real-life pervert, I later thought.

There's no way I can now kill Fiona as she's rumbled me. Never mind, and anyway, no one has killed me yet.

It's been a fun week. Not least because everyone has been looking so shifty. And it's not unusual, as happened to me, for people get the wrong end of the stick and think that you are supposed to murder them.

A couple of times I have walked into a room only to see a girl bolt for the door.

Of course, that could be for entirely different reasons.