There I was, minding my own business, enjoying a nice walk through Newbury, when I heard such a caterwauling as would be fit to ring your ears out! I crept closer to spy the source and what did I see? Pie-rates! A clean dozen I am sure!

There they stood, singing and dancing on the dock as if they owned the place! One mad one was standing on the dock post kicking her feet as if she wasn't a single wrong step from a deathly wet end!

The rest were no better, singing songs of a rascally nature, all in their pie-rate clothes.

But that was not the worst shock, no, dear neighbours. Pie-rates in Buckland is bad enough, but who do you think was there too? I never would have believed it! But I saw it all the same!

There among them was respectable old Wybert Diggins! Strumming away on a lute if you please! Clearly at home and singing to them! And if that were not worrisome enough, it seems these rogues had led poor young Aldobras Berrywood astray! He was there too!

They danced, waved their swords about, and emptied their tankards until the sun was well down. I made a detailed sketch and crept away quickly in fear of my life!

When your faithful correspondent asked Master Wybert for further comment some time later, he said: “Pie-rates in the Shire? Stuff and nonsense!”

Well there you have it friends and neighbours! I ask you, what is the Shire coming to?

Yours in fright,

Wyla Weaselhedge,

Your Faithful Correspondent