Yesterday while searching through an old box of Star War's toys I came across a screwed up piece of paper (see photographic evidence). I immediately stopped playing with my Star War's toys and went to work on unscrewing the screwed paper. The words that were written on this document made my blood run cold, and my heart pound like a drum being pounded by someone big. You will now read what I have read. Please be aware that what you are about to be told could make you feel uncomfortable, and possibly a little sick, so have a bucket by your side. Here goes.
Friday, 12th September, 1617.
To whom it may concern
My name is Betty Birtles, and I was shacked up with William Shakespeare for nigh on thirty-three long years. He was a wrong-en, but I always went for bad men. They excite me. Now he is dead I want to tell the world what a terrible thing me and Will done.
It was back in 1585, and me and Will had just started doing it with each other. I was working in a bakers shop, and Will was an unsuccessful pickpocket. One day Will came home to our hovel in Stepney and said he had something to show me. I wasn't in the mood for his naughty games so I hit him over the head with a poker. Once Will was unconscious on the floor I rifled through his pockets to see what he had. All I could find was a half-eaten chickens head, and an empty bottle of gin. Then I opened up his coat and inside was thousands of sheets of paper with words on. I thought what does Will want with words when he can't even read or write? Well I started to read some of the words, and to my great surprise the words were put together in such a way that they told stories, wonderful stories.
When Will finally woke up I asked him where he got all the paper, he told me he had stolen them from a bloke in the pub. I then slapped him round the face, we both ended up rolling on the floor punching and scratching each other. Obviously we then had sex and drunk lots of gin.
In the morning after me and Will had pissed out of the window, I told Will that those papers he had pinched might be worth some money, and that I had a plan that might help to change our miserable lives for the better. My plan was this: Will would have to kill the man that he stole the papers from, and then make out that he had written all the wonderful stories. Will thought I was jesting, and laughed out loud, so I hit him with the poker. We then had sex again. After sex I explained to Will that this was not a laughing matter, and that he must be a man and kill this bloke from the pub. Will said that he would be happy to kill the fella as long as I'd get on top next time we had sex.
After I had climbed off of Will we set about getting the plan straight. This was not easy for Will because he was an idiot.
Part II. The dastardly deed
The next day I decided that trying to explain the whole of my plan to Will was a complete waste of time. Will was good in bed, but utterly useless in the brain department. I found out from Will what pub he had robbed his victim in and went straight over there. It was the Ten Bells in Whitechapel, a rather rundown establishment frequented in the main by prostitutes and their clients. I went into the pub, and told the bald dwarf sitting on the bar to get me the manager. The bald dwarf told me that he was the manager, he also said that I was far too ugly to work in there as a prostitute. I explained to him that I was a good girl, and if he ever saw me all made up he would have a hard-on all day long. The dwarf then asked me to do something to him that is far too disgusting to describe in this letter. Once I had done what he had asked, I washed my mouth out with a glass of gin, and then explained to him about the papers that had come into my possession, and that I thought they might have once belonged to one of his customers. The dwarf told me that if they were papers with writing on they must have belonged to.....
To be continued.