Farewell to arms

I used to have a sword at work. It lived on top of my small drawers and was useful for poking the air conditioning when it broke.

As of yesterday, I no longer have a sword.

We were on a fancy dress pub treasure hunt and I was dressed as Angel. This didn't look too weird because I look exactly like him most of the time anyway. My sword was an addition that I figured would be handy for demon slaying should we find any.

There were no obvious demons and somehow I got away with taking the sword around with me all night. It's amazing what you can get past bouncers if you have a long coat. But when it came to going to a nightclub later I figured that enough was enough - the sword would have to go. Although it would have been interesting to find out what charge would have been made for sword cloakroom storage. 20 pence?

So I dumped the sword. I stabbed it into a dumpster outside a record shop. It was sticking out like in King Arthur stories. I like to think that later on some kid came along, retrieved the sword and has now become King of York. All hail the new king.