My friends, I must apologise. It has taken long months to escape from the dread dungeon in which I was imprisoned, being forced to tunnel out using nothing but a rusty spoon, and bolstered only by the song in my heart. "A song?", I hear you wonder. Yes, friends, a song. For I knew that I would escape. I had righteousness on my side, a spoon in my hand and a song in my heart. But the joy of my inevitable escape was tempered by the knowledge that I must apologise not just for the delay in returning to the bosom of the internet, but for the lapse that occurred in these pages. I must, of course, apologise to you, the reader, but also to Ndbag, he whose words I seek to interpret, and who can only be disappointed in what was, after all, a lapse in security that allowed the dread, slavering hordes that comprise the minions of ZK to infiltrate the mountain-top château where these words are penned.
