"Honestly, these days I spend as much time straining to put fruit in the bowl as I do attempting to solve crimes. I swear to The Lord Almighty... it's somewhat appropriate that I live in Baker Street, as my deep brown mass seems to be baked into a solid clot up there! I now fear that if I do succeed somehow in extruding a loaf it'll be so dense that it risks dropping into the pan with all the force of a lumber delivery.
"Much more of this and I'll be taking one of Mrs Hudson's crochet needles to it. Little wonder I'm know throughout Olde London Town as 'No-Shit Sherlock'! I've not so much as in possession of a colon as a col-off! Rectum? Mine's more a rect-ummm, as it rather appears to be considerably more ponderous than the average hole.
"Recently, my associate, Doctor WhatsonTV, and I were employed to solve a series of quandaries so profound that even we were left scratching one another's head. Consequently, I've been speculating whether you might be able to help us.
"Please study these images of Commodore 64 owners for clues, then press reveal to see if you correctly guessed their cause of death - all of which were once recorded on actual Victorian-era death certificates! Come along, WhatsonTV - the game is afootball!"
"And what of the grim scene suspended above his head? A wintry tableaux serving, perchance, as a portent of the chill wind which soon shall bluster through his own mortal form? Also, he looks rather like a wonky caricature of the 1980s pop singer Paul Young. I wouldn't know who that is, as it's a century or so after my time!"