Sadly, Mr. Underby has told me that even though it is not personal, he needs the space he’d been renting to me these past few weeks. This poor tailor is in need of a shop again, but where? I’m as homeless in Babbage as that poor struggling Wiggyfish flopping on the dock.
It is with sadness that I part from the Bucket of Blood, and I wish Mr. Underby all the best, particularly in legal matters and whatnot. It has been an adventure being his tenant, and I hope that my next tenant will be just as lively, if a bit less scary.
Toodlepip for now, my friends. I must wander in the fog-shrouded streets for a while.