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De Zondagse Krant

Hello readers of the Rock Paper Shotgun weblog. I am Hercule Poirot, famous detective. Hastings and myself were passing an enormous, sleeping monster when our attention was drawn to some repetitive tapping. While Hastings dismissed it as mysterious indigestion, I recognised the pattern was Morse code for S-O-S. I started a rhythmic conversation on the beast's belly, discovering that several young men and Kieron were trapped inside it. I started to suggest a plan of escape, but was interupted by a most insistent message. Escape can wait, says the figure who identified himself as Kieron. First, there must be a list of fine reading compiled across the week with - I'm not sure if this is right - without some manner of popular song at the end. This is the aforementioned list, which I now transcribe for you, my friends.

Oh my, dear tapping-man! You have failed in your mission not to include a popular song. Ah, the noxious fumes of the guts must have confused you. My sympathies. I will return to the creature to bring news of his failure, via the mechanism of Morse's code. I remain your humble servant.

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