The Redhill Job

FIX Entertainment Nervously Presents The Redhill Job…

Right, gather round you lot. After the fiasco of that Italian job we done, we're goin' for the big one.

Nah, not a lot of people know this, but that Puzzler Media mob are in Redhill. So here's what we're gonna do…

The four minis will be parked in the station car park. We bust the clamps off, and from there we make a dash over the roundabout, and through the shopping precinct – don't worry abaht pedestrians 'cos there's a council notice warning them of 'vehicles at certain times' and I reckon that four souped-up minis goin' like the clappers is a certain time – whenever.

Then we dash up the High Street to number 65. I've timed it – four hours 27 minutes.

Nah, there's a church next door. We dump the cars in the churchyard. Next, we climb up the back of the building opposite and fire a weighted rope across the street. It catches on the steeple, swings rahnd, gaverin' speed, and Bob's yer uncle. It smashes into the roof tiles of the building next door – Stonecroft 'Ahse, what is where this publishing gang hang out. Slide across the wire and onto the roof. Cut through the tiles and the felt and we're in the building.

Nah, look over 'ere – this is a plan of the building. On the top floor, we go past the executive games room and gym, through the managing director's suite – if we 'ear any noise from the jacuzzi, we lock the door. Down the stairs, past the restaurant, rest room and bar (and no loiterin' about in there, you lot) and into the editorial office. Nah, this is a big room and it's easy to get lost among the packets of biscuits, sweets and litter of postcards they send back from their 'olidays. But if you look in the corners, in one of 'em, you'll see a computer.

That's your reference point. The room we want is the meeting room in the opposite corner to that. Behind the plush leather sofas and potted plants, there's a rack of magazines. Grab the one we want and head straight out to the front door. Meanwhile, three of the minis form a roadblock and the fourth drives up the front steps, through the glass door, and in we pile.

Nah. Any questions?

Just one fing, boss. Which mag are we after?

Beyond Sudoku – worth its weight in gold bullion.

'Ere, we said we'd never mention gold bullion again.

Sorry, slip of the tongue. Anything else?

Well, I don't want to put a damper on a brilliant plan, boss. But couldn't we just bung a left in the shopping precinct and grab a copy from Smiff's?

Or just shove a letter through Stonecroft's door, taking out a subscription…?

Admitted, those are the easy options – but 'ow long do you fink the film will last if we do?