Her Majesty's Government has tasked the Lord Noland McClure of Cluresdown to review the ongoing progress of the recently developed Colony, Bridgecog. The entries presented in this royal review are the representative observations of local governance – of which, the Lord McClure shall aide with when necessary. (I haven't the slightest on what 'year' it is.) August 14th, 1852 This is the first report by myself, the Lord McClure, of pertinence towards the glorious Empire and Her Majesty's Government. It has never been my intention to leave the home isles, however it is my royal duty to maintain and improve upon the realm. Junior Bureaucrat Joseph Willies has received me at the developing dockyard. He seemed surprised by my arrival via sea instead of blimp. What am I, a lowly peasant? What better form of travel than that of the Anderjack Steam-Cog Frigate! Regardless, he poorly received me at the docks which were held by the local dock-master, Sir Mackleby Cabbot – though it is beyond my comprehension how Sir Cabbot was indeed knighted. His manner of speech was considerably deplorable for a man of such expected esteem – and I do not infer that he is by any means crude! Rather his capacity for ..anything seems limited by his impoverished complexity. Perhaps there is some form of comedic ploy to lure me into falsified empty titles of nobility (Do they mean to impress me?). Regardless of which the young Mr. Willies has assured me that this colony is in-fact running at top speed and shall be made ready for full colonial status shortly. Out of duty he has placed me inside the local Governor's Manor, though it escapes me where exactly the Governor, the esteemed Lord Beeswax, has actually gone off to. Mr. Willies has only offered shrugs as to the inquiry and to be quite frank I am not at all impressed with the décor. There was a painting of an elderly couple holding what looked to be pitchforks? I do not see the purpose of this artwork, why should I feel as if I am a lowly farmer! August 15th, 1852 Mr. Willies introduced me to Robert Quiggly, the local doctor of this colonial venture. The good doctor has assured me that the health of the colony is in good order, though was mentioning a few, 'oddities' about the local fish eggs. It was useless matters of commerce, not of state and certainly of little importance to Her Majesty's Government! However these eggs or caviar, may make a fine meal in the royal courts one day. It may be worth noting that every time the term 'fish' was stated, Mr Willies, our young Bureaucrat, would jump. Perhaps the good doctor should see to our young man before he breaks his knees what? The meeting with the local doctor has proven that the colonialist are in good spirits – morale is undoubtedly high as the proud traditions of the Empire are present here. I am set to meet the local militia leader, Captain Lyonel Cathaway shortly, he is said to be watching the Eastern parapets. Though the colony seems to be in decent order, this Captain may be experiencing what the good doctor called, “Colonial Fever”. His report, though thorough was largely the makings of a madman – shadows in the dark, creatures of the night.. something about a chicken without a head bawking? It seems the colony was a fine place for this poor fellow to linger – I don't believe his mind is quite there. Never-the-less, he assured me that any and all assaults against Her Majesty's realm would be repelled. Good show old chap! One must always be prepared, for the Franziens are jealous of our prosperity and it is our duty to protect it from their greedy, wine-soaked, cheese-foul hands! My word, look at the time! Tea and crumpets! August 17th, 1852 Woe is me! My sight has grown dim, the very presence of my soul lingers at life's edge, what pain, oh what sorrow! That accursed cook has poisoned me with this piss he calls tea! If he thinks that his miniscule hint of comedy will escape me, it shall not! Mr. Willies has assured me that the chef has been removed from the premises but I demand justice for this cruelty! I am not only a member of the esteemed aristocracy, but a member of Her Majesty's Government and as such, I expect treatment that is not border-line assassination! After that nightmare, I'd welcome some gray boiled mutton and cabbage tea. All the same, Mr. Willies has contended that the cook, George Tomlock did not intend to cause me bodily harm, however I think there is reason to believe other-wise. The Captain has seen to me today and noted some suspicious activity as of late, he cites that there may be an evil and dastardly cult out to get me! Is it possible that the chef is part of their nefarious plans?
