When I came down to breakfast yesterday there was no sign of Wilson. Then I noticed a magazine cutting magnetted to the fridge door, together with a Post-It explaining that he was in the Asteroid Shelter.
He is still there now.
Meanwhile, plucky Polly-B is trying to calm a very nervous Antony and Tiny Toy, while the sTone Brothers say they don't want to die with door-handles glued on their heads.
Which is understandable, I suppose.
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