SPECIAL PRICE: only one gold piece! Printers' note: Upon receiving this week's edition we couldn't help but notice that Dr Jenkyns' patois has, in places, become ever so slightly cruder than normal. We hope you'll forgive our impromptu censorship; we had planned on seeking Dr Jenkyns' forgiveness too, but we believe that after the events of this week he probably has slightly more pressing matters at hand. Well that ██████ showed him! It pains me to admit it, readers, but my tenure here at the Courier has not exactly been filled with success thus far. I allowed that █████ Brandt to best me far too often, the sallow-faced, carrot-topped ██████ that he is. Or, should I say, was! You see, I had a brainwave this week. A glorious moment, you can be sure, when my mind finally returned to the sharpness that once made it stand out from the ignorant masses. These █████ elixirs had been responsible for my little mood swings, that much was ████ obvious. But the key to my victory, my eureka moment, was the realisation that the █████, ██████ concoction had a secondary consequence – one that's actually been something of a running theme in recent weeks. In the words of the great, mythical artist Rudolf Harald, can you tell what it is yet? Well, just in case there are any █████ ███ out there who haven't caught on yet, I'll tell you. Here I had a potion that not only caused dramatic changes in personality but also had a certain, shall we say, inhibitory effect, romantically speaking. No wonder my pursuits of love and, more importantly, █████, had been such a damp squib! █████ obvious, I'm sure you'll agree, and I can't say I'm proud of myself for taking so long to realise – although, in truth, I could easily blame the formulation itself for that. Maybe it dulls the mind too? Regardless, it matters not now, as I polished off the last of it a few days ago to give me the ███ to carry out my little plan. Well, almost the last of it... It required a █████ shedload of money to pull off, but I was able to hire a "lady of the night" as she called herself (or "█████" as I preferred to call her) to visit the █████ Dead Pig and, while she seduced Herr Brandt, slip a soupçon of the brew into his, well, soup. Then it was just a matter of sitting back and watching him go, so to speak. And I had it exactly right – the brew, I admit, changed me from a nice yet dull person to the ██████ who is writing this to you now (although I calculate it should wear off soon). But for Herr Brandt, who, I'm sure you'll agree, was already a █████ ███, it should have the opposite effect of turning him into simpleton whilst retaining the secondary effect of amorous inhibition. And so it proved! And upon that, my little hireling, bless her ██, made sure the entire tavern heard about it – and as you know, once a rumour is let loose in the Dead Pig it reaches the far corners of the city within minutes. Herr Brandt, lacking the fortitude in tough times that I have been blessed with, fled the city instantly and hasn't been seen since! And to celebrate I have lined up a rather special evening with a certain someone who, once this potion wears off, will soon see my true romantic force – not to mention my ███. Things, readers, I'm sure you'll agree, are finally looking up! Heinrich Jenkyns, Ph.D.