busker

But why do I feel something missing since the stalwart Steve Gardner moved on?

Blotter

Not a hugely captivating rap sheet this week, and just as well.

The cops found where the child lived and discovered the babysitter lounging around, totally oblivious to the fact that the kid was even gone.

The report ends that, "The parents were contacted and returned home."

I tell you, had I been the father, I'd have sped home in a white fury and it would have taken some burly constables to wrestle me off throttling the wretch.

BIR: Meanwhile, over in the Review, Tristen Beurick - still on the Peddy beat, still resolutely refusing to hand me that discrepant 'a' - reveals Willie boy's cupboard to be positively narnian in its skeletal contents: hot documents that could "expose [Peddy] and his family to very real danger."

I don't mean to laugh - and Heaven forbid that any harm come to the old résumé rejuvenator - but honestly, *only* Dobbin could have made quite such a pig's breakfast of things: first fibbing left, right and center on matters that even a cursory background checks catch, and now this imperiling paperwork.

Going on previous Peddy form - and his choice of lackeys - I'm assuming this is all a feeble last-ditch play for time and sympathy, so I'm not getting my hopes up.

If, however, there is a scintilla of truth to this dicey documents nonsense - and those who suspected the existence of such papers must be delighted to have them so thunderously confirmed in the press - our William will need prompt fitting for a witness protection-style new life.

May I suggest that he looks outside this country's shores: those patrician good looks and distinctive regal bearing will make it impossible for him to walk the streets of America without an admiring audience tugging at his impeccable cuffs or dropping to obeisant knees to kiss his ring.

I have some pull in the Land of the Pharaohs, where they know how to deal with irrelevancies like paper 'qualifications', and hear that custody of the Din Shazli Souk and Sportsbar is up for grabs. My open palm is greaseless and ready.

"Bainbridge Buzz is a fourth-rate partisan and malicious blog site set on a vendetta against Mr. Peddy ... I wish the story would die a respectable death."

Can't deny the man's optimism but I rather fear respectability went out the window the day his client tossed his pointy cap into the mayoral arena.

Vendetta: I once worked for an online retailer whose chief officer missed no chance to rabbit on about how "customer-centric" we all were. Our data tracking was formidable and I once asked the assembled bigwigs if this fuzzy fondness for our members in any way resembled how a cat is mouse-centric. I feel the same way about the context of the word "vendetta".

I can think of a number of worthy institutions who might bear an element of 'malice' towards the level of deception practised by Mr Peddy and whose charters include a 'vendetta' of sorts against such behavior:

Unlike Slick Willie, the only Teflon here is on the frying pan from which poor Peddy is tumbling further into the fire.

Island Ice Cream: I'm sorry Loral Ann Jorza joins other Island favorites in going under to the implacable demands of the landlord.

She also claims to have been thwarted over decent signage - surely not the chill hand of our diploma-laden Peddy-rast Codista, reaching out from the grave of his reputation?

We talk a good game about the community we want but collapse in the face of avarice and be-ribboned bureaucracy.

Addendum: No sooner do I get on my landlord-hating high horse (in which saddle I intend to stay, booted, spurred and crop held high) than Bruce Weiland's letter in the Jan 7th Review hints at LAJ being just the teensiest bit tardy with her rent (like, seven out of the first ten months?). It changes nothing but I mention it out of a misplaced sense of fairness.

Harbor Squat: Can there be a sadder epitaph to Bill Moore's valiant efforts for Cave House than that it was "in the way" of that accursèd 180-unit 'development'?

Gooseless on Bainbridge (Letters): Theft of al fresco kitsch seems to be the growth industry: first it's national coverage of illuminated lawn Grinches going missing, now our very own Sally LaGrandeur loses a 2-foot-tall plastic retro goose lamp.

If I or anyone I know received one for Christmas, LaG wants us to know it was stolen.

If I'd even received a gleaming *new* one, I'd have whistle-blown the offender to the Taste Police, let alone a grotty used specimen. Da cheapskates.

Come to think of it, that turquoise tie from Aunt Miranda bears the suspicious crease of having cradled a foreign jowel.

Suffis!