Me? I was done for eating some pick'n'mix.

[One of Bro's yellow smuppets fills the screen. The rear end, if you want to get specific. When the smuppet's pulled back, the screen's back to monochrome, Nathan looking more than a little traumatised.]

What the fuck is this? It's horrifying. I mean, who wants to go for their morning piss to find this staring at them from behind the loo?

Is it some kind of puppet sex toy, or what? Its nose looks like a bloody dildo. Is that a nose? [Nathan pauses to poke at it suspiciously.] I bet there's anus sewn into its ass somewhere. Not that I'm planning on actually checking that. Fuck knows what some pervert's been doing with this thing. I bet there's months old spunk still up there.

[Rant apparently over, Nathan drops his arm so he's not waving the smuppet at the screen, scratching his cheek almost thoughtfully.]

I'll tell you what, though. I'm pissing yellow again. So, I guess something came out of this. You know, besides scarring me for the rest of my life.

[At first the only visible are his teeth, lips drawn back in a grimace as Nathan tries to concentrate. There's a string of mozzarella stuck there. But, hey. Be fair. He was eating.

Getting the idea he's recording, Nathan holds the camera further away from him. Hey there, City. Did you miss this face? Tough luck if you didn't. You're getting it anyway. The top part of his tux is also visible. He certainly looks like he's doing better for himself than the last time he was here. Irritated, Nathan pulls a face at the camera, picking the mozzarella out of his teeth.]

Seriously? This couldn't have waited a few hours? I'm a busy man. I'm supposed to be shooting myself in... [He looks down at his watchless wrist with a squint.] Less than five. And I really can't risk taking any time where I might talk myself out of it. Those TV guys are already pissed off with me. Yeah, there's that whole memory wipe thing, but suicide takes a very specific mindset. I've been working myself up to this all day! And yesterday. Sort of.

[Disgruntled sigh.] There's no way I'm getting laid if I don't go through with this. [He looks at the camera, pleadingly.] Do you really want to take that away from me?

[ooc; Nathan is back and updated to the start of the Christmas special! Only... now he's cursed with A Road Not Taken for the weekend and his memories are of the AU fame timeline in 2x06. He'll remember this event when he's back to normal, but his memories of the timeline itself will be fuzzy.]

[The shot opens on Campbell. Or at least Campbell's legs. Gay Bar by Electric Six is playing loudly in the background. The camera moves up shakily, showing Campbell in full drag.

For a moment, there's just wobbling as Nathan attempts to balance the camera haphazardly on something, cutting Campbell's head out of the frame in the process. Then there's a blur as Dulcie rolls in on a desk chair, knocking Campbell over in the process. Dulcie is dressed in a very well-fitted two-piece suit. Her short hair’s been slicked back, and a fedora is perched jauntily on her head. The whole look rather invokes a Marlene Dietrich vibe. Nathan waves a frantic hand in front of the camera, flicking ash from his joint in the direction of the other two.]

No, no. Get back. It's not ready yet, you've ruined it.

What? Still? You've been setting that thing up for five minutes. I wanna do the rolly chair bit!

You already DID. Onto ME. This is useless. I’m nae standin’ here anymore. Tell me when you’re ready.

[Campbell stalks somewhere out of view of the camera, pouting only slightly. Dulcie slouches in her chair as she watches him go.]

Come on, I wanna have the fashion show!

[Dulcie, very elegantly, chair-scoots over to her desk and opens a bottle of scotch. She takes an impressively long swig of it. Campbell yells from off camera.]

Dulcie, why do y’ need six slinkies? D’you pile them on top of each other? D’you make massive slinkie TOWERS?

[The camera finally steadies itself.]  Okay, get off. Get Campbell back here.

CAMPBELL! COME BACK! WE’RE ACTUALLY READY THIS TIME!

[Campbell strolls back into frame, holding a slinky in each hand. And soon as he’s in view, Dulcie launches herself from her chair and pins him down in a flying tackle. By this time the song on the stereo has ended and the viewers are treated to the all-too familiar strains of Lady GaGa.]

Hey, hey, get off him. I don't remember what we said was going to happen here, but I'm pretty sure that was not it.

[Campbell sounds amused, and maybe a bit smug.] Och, gi’ it a rest, Nathan. It’s your own fault.

But he just looks so CUTE!

[Dulcie grabs Campbell by the sides of his face and gives him a very loud, smacking kiss, leaving Campbell looking a bit stunned.]

Seriously, get off him. That definitely wasn't what we agreed on.

I would’ve if I’d known it was an option!

[Dulcie grabs Nathan by the hand and pulls him into frame. Nathan is dressed basically like a slutty fourteen-year-old.]  Don’t worry, baby. You look cute, too!

[Dulcie grabs Nathan by his hideous tank top, and pulls him down onto her lap in the rolly chair, giving him a long, slow kiss. Campbell waits a bit and then tilts his head back in exaggerated irritation.]

Aaah are you two gonna do that much longer? I’ll go back t’ my slinky towers.

[Dulcie breaks it off only JUST before he actually does leave the screen again.]  Are we still going to do the fashion show? I made a playlist for it and everything.

I thought that was what we were already doing. Isn't that why we put the music on?

Noooooooo! You have to do the model walk thingy!

[Dulcie dumps Nathan off her lap, giving a well-aimed smack to his rear end as he walks away. She is enjoying this being-the-boy part a little too much. Campbell just sits there, distracted, trying to fix his hair. It’s gone askew.

Aaaaaaand… commence the drunken montage of drunken ridiculousness. You all can prolly picture what’s gonna go down here. They attempt some sort of fashion show with Nathan and Campbell doing their best pouty-model faces, but Dulcie keeps ruining things by giggling loudly and generally being a very touchy-feely drunk. At some point they forget about the camera, and it falls off the table. The viewer gets a shot of the ceiling for about two minutes, with more giggling and drunken voices coming in from off screen. The low-battery sign flashes a few times, and the device clicks off.]

[ooc: Nathan is orange, Dulcie is pink and Campbell is blue.]

[Here is Nathan, sporting a very expensive looking suit (stolen by someone who wasn't him, thank you very much) and looking extremely worked up about something.]

Hey! Hey, cop fellers. Since you're always so keen to get on my back over nothing, I thought you might like to deal with some real crime for a change. I know you were too wrapped up with other, no doubt more important stuff to bother the last time I got murdered, but maybe this time you could try doing your jobs for a change.

So I got stabbed, right? I don't know what I got stabbed with, mind. It might have been sword, or something. I'm kind of fuzzy here, so it's hard to say for sure.

Anyway, that bit's all fine. Not that I want people to kill me, but stabbing's fairly tame. Only this guy must've been completely insane. I woke up, and my clothes were just gone. He'd put me in this thing instead. [He tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket here, then continues with his rant.] And he had the indecency to dump a load of newspaper over my head and leaving me lying around outside.

I don't want to start throwing around accusations, or anything, but I reckon this guy must've violated me while I was out. He's probably out there right now, rubbing his dick all over my t-shirt and getting off on his memories of skull fucking me.

He left chewing gum in my pockets, for God's sake. If that isn't a sign of guilt, I don't know what is.

[Nathan is curled up in bed, so his voice is slightly muffled by his covers.]

Okay, so is anyone else getting any more of those pains that were going on before we managed to get rid of those harpies? Or am I the lucky winner here? [He says 'we'. In reality he didn't do anything to help.]

Fuck. I think this actually feels worse than getting impaled to begin with.

[A pause and some creaking as Nathan shifts on his mattress.]

I think there's still bird shit in my bed. Those bastards better not have given me bird flu, or something.