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There's a lot of virtual homicide on the Fantasy Archers topic of the . Here, three Ambridge residents are inventively bumped off:

Siobhan's Three Wishes
by Liz Simpson

Siobhan wandered over Lakey Hill, absentmindedly picking daisy petals. "He loves me, he loves me not..."

"Oh, no - I thought the Panto season was over!" she exclaimed, as a small but perfectly formed balding middle-aged man appeared in the middle of the fumes. "Are you a genie?" "Well no, I'm a scriptwriter," said the vision.

"A scriptwriter!" shrieked Siobhan. "They're the the mythical deities - half-man, half-mule - worshipped by the primitive inhabitants of Glebelands, who believe that these "Scriptwriters" dictate every move and word that the inhabitants of Ambridge deliver. Anyway, I expect you have three wishes to deliver to me for saving you - so let's get on with it!"

"Well," said the scriptwriter coyly, "As you might expect, the wishes are not without their drawbacks - whatever you wish for, your husband will have double."

"No bother at all!" said Siobhan. ""First of all, I'd like to be the most beautiful woman in South Borsetshire." "No problem," said the scriptwriter, "Tim is now the most handsome man in Borsetshire."

"Well, wish number two," said Siobhan, "I'd like to be the wealthiest woman in South Borsetshire." "No problem," said the scriptwriter, "Tim is now the wealthiest man in Borsetshire. But how about wish number three? Remember, whatever you wish for, your husband gets twice as much of."

"Not to worry, I think I've sorted it out - for my last wish, I'd like just a teeny, weeny, little heart attack......"

Meanwhile, Janet is panicking. Not two minutes before, she had been happy to answer the door to Tim. "Gosh, you're looking very attractive Tim," she barely had a chance to say, just as he was saying "Sorry, Janet, but I,m feeling a bit gyp - could I possibly come in for a minute?"

At which point, he clutched his chest, and fell into her arms, spreadeagling her on her hall floor. "Oh, sh - sugar!" said Janet, trying unsuccessfully to shift Tim's literally dead weight, added to by the sudden increase in weight of his trouser pocket change. "What the Hell am I going to tell the Bishop this time?"

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The Cheese Bites Back
by Frances Carman

Hellin walked briskly up the road leading to Lower Loxley, with a basket over her arm.

''I've brought you a sample of my new Borsetshire Blue to try - I'm expecting you to stock nothing else at Lower Loxley!"

Elizabeth looked a little embarrassed and stuttered a bit as she answered "Well, of course, we can't compromise on quality, Hellin, and while I'm quite sure your Borsetshire Blue is jolly good, my supplier has got me a very good deal on best quality Stilton-flavour second grade cheese-type condiment made with 20% real cow's milk (produce of more than one EC country). We've got to keep a really close eye on costs here."

Hellin's jaw clenched as she bit back the uncharacteristically sharp words she was about to say. "Well, of course I understand, Elizabeth. But do just try some of the cheese, I really think you'll enjoy it."

The pair went into the drawing room of the huge mansion, and sat down. "Now, let's try the cheese," said Lizzie. Hellin brought out of her basket a parcel wrapped in grease proof paper.

They each broke off a piece of the cheese, popping it into their mouths."'There, you see, how can you beat that..." began Hellin, when without warning she began to choke, and turn a delicate shade of blue herself. "Wha..." said Elizabeth, before she also started foaming at the mouth.

Very quickly, there was silence in the drawing room. The Borsetshire Blue had claimed its first victims...