26-08-94:

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I took my time choosing an axe. Some people in my line couldn't care less, I have to admit it, but I have always been a bit of a perfectionist from way back. I'm one of the old school, a trditionalist and proud of it. You''l never find me wearing a suit and carrying a mobile phone like some of the young pups today. I took a quick look at the door of the house and frowned. Good thick wood, I thought, tough. I picked one of my heaviest axes, not the superweight but getting on that way. I hefted it and my shoulders gave a worning crack. I was getting old. Maybe it was time to think of retiring, buying a little cottage in the country and devoting more time to my tropical fish. I shrugged and made my way up the path. I still enjoyed my work too much to ever quit.

Outside the door, I paused to spit on my hands and then swung the axe with all the stregnth and experience of thirty years in the business. The wood exploded with a satisfactory crash. I stuck my head through the door and screamed my callsign - "Here's Harry!". I was very pround of the edge of evil and insanity I managed to fit into my voice, I had spent many years cultivating that voice and it had been known to scaret hem to death even wiothout the axe. It's true. I have at least six heart attacks to my credit and one stroke. I smashed the rest of the door in and pushed past the wreckage.

The family were in the living room, motionless with shock as usual. I managed to smash the fathers head in with the axe before anyone actuall moved and even then, it was only the wet blood and the brains that woke them from their shock. I never cease to be amazed at how hard it is for these people to believe that this could be happening to them, don't they know that it could happen to anybody? The rest of the operation was almost routine, chasing the mother and the children downand chopping them into little pieces. I was halfway to the door after smearing insane graffiti on the walls when I noticed the address on the letters on the hall table. Watton street not Watton row.

Damn. Wrong address again.