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The Hamster of the Archervilles
By Steve Killick
illustrated by Nick Ellwood - check out our drawing
competition
The escape of Harry the hamster inspired Archers
regular
Steve Killick into this Cricetussian* parody.
*this
means 'pertaining to hamsters' - or at least, it should.
 'It
is self evident that you are an enthusiastic amateur cricketer, have recently
launched a range of local organic meat products and have a wife who is
the worst cook within a radius of 100 miles.' Sherlock Holmes drew hard
on his after lunch pipe and grey smoke began to fill the Archerville Hall
dining room.
'Wow, that is absolutely amazing,' cried Sir David Archerville, heir to
the Archerville estate which he had inherited on the death of his father
Sir Philip, 'How on earth did you know that?'
'Simplicity itself,' replied the great detective, 'You are wearing cricket
pads, have a tee shirt on which the words "Ask me for a Hassett Hills
Organic Shank" are written and I have just finished probably the most
revolting meal it has ever been my misfortune to have had set before me.'
Sir David looked forlornly at his deep frozen pizza, oven chips and sprouts.
' But what about the rodent, I need to get to net practise today, there's
a big game on against Darrington next week?' he asked plaintively.
 'You
must not set foot out on the moor,' snapped Holmes, 'cricket or no cricket.'
'I say Holmes that is a bit steep. I don't mind keeping Sir David company
and after all it is still broad daylight,' said Dr Watson, who had managed
to pass much of his lunch to a sheepdog which had been sitting under the
dining table. The good doctor was now discomfited to see the unfortunate
beast being violently sick. 'It must have been the oven chips,' he thought.
'Right, to Ambridge,' said Holmes and the three men strode out into the
pleasant Borsetshire countryside. Scarce had they passed the farm gates
when they heard a hideous scream, 'Oooooor noooooooor, Deeeeervid,' and
the booming cry of some huge creature.
'That's Lady Ruth,' cried Sir David. He rushed across the wild terrain
towards the direction of the noise.
 The
headless body lay on its side by a small pool. Sir David rushed towards
it tears beginning to flow down his noble features. 'Ruth darling are
you alright?'
'I am afraid that the lack of your wife's head does not bode well for
a speedy recovery,' snapped Holmes. 'What interests me more is why she
is wearing those extraordinary clothes.'
Sir David, in a state of total shock, looked at the orange boiler suit
and thigh length waders. 'She always used to like wearing my overalls,'
he said softly, 'I could never quite understand the waders though.'
'Well clearly we can deduce a number of things from this unfortunate accident,'
said Holmes. 'The most important being that the beast clearly mistook
Lady Ruth for you, Sir David, by the scent of the boiler suit. But anyway
we must get help from the village to move the body, I do not hold out
much hope for the head.'
Sir David was crouched over the remains of his wife as Watson said softly
to Holmes, 'And what were the other things you deduced?'
'These are dark doings Watson,' he replied, 'Once again there are the
unmistakable tracks of the giant hamster but at least we now have some
grounds for optimism.'
'Why's that?' asked his faithful companion.
'Because we will no longer be subjected to the truly appalling culinary
aberrations of Lady Ruth,' replied Holmes
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