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Coffee Break

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“How's it going?”

“They sent a newbie to cover the Spanish Inquisition, can you believe it?”

“How'd that go?”

“He threw up all over the Chief Inquisitor and his Star Victim of the Week. Just as well, really.”


“Gave them an excuse to reschedule the interview. He'd already thrown up over the camera and his own microphone.”

“New record?”

“He went straight from the Broad Street cholera outbreak in 1854, so it might be that. Or, more likely, it might be that yes, it's a new record because we've never sent newbies out on hard hitters like these before. We've never been this short staffed before. I give it four days before our shining example of a manager gets this lot satisfactorily stranded, locked up, or killed.”

“Don't have much faith in his ability to learn from his mistakes?”

“What mistakes? He's still insisting that 'Six Weeks Inside a Plague-Ridden Quarantine House' would have been a smash hit, if anyone had, you know, lived long enough to make it.”

“Textbook save us from sensationalists. Oh, I heard from Ell, she's still with the remnants of the Spanish Armada.”

“Her and half the Foreign Correspondents. How is she?”

“Impatient. The transport's a month overdue and she's got scurvy.”

“Another shining example of managerial excellence.”

“So where are you off to now?”

“The Somme.”

“When you've got a moment, you should get down to sickbay. Those longbows really pack a punch: some of those arrow wounds look pretty nasty.”

“By the way, did you manage to find your arm?”

“We were in a hurry. But then I only need one to hold the microphone anyway.”

“Hi, Mike.”


“Knock 'em dead.”

“Where's he off to?”

“He's doing the Christmas coverage for 1656. Poor guy.”

“Brave man. Wouldn't want to be in his shoes.”

“Well, better be going. I’ll see you later.”

“Or earlier.”

“That was old the first time. Bye now.”