It was time for the dunking. It was getting late, so the Cam would be getting colder the longer we waited. Jon slipped off to go see some other friends, and the rest of us all traipsed down to the riverbank.
jwalrus and Iain futzed about with cameras as maga inspected the river.
maga had divested himself of coat, scarf, and anything soakable. I kindly agreed to hold his papers and notebooks for him, working in the theory that he would be less likely to pull me in if I was carrying valubles. It was raining a fair amount by this point, too.
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Despite all the preparatory camera work by Iain and jwalrus, neither of them managed to capture the actual pushing. So here you have an immediately-before picture and an immediately-after picture.
Yes, I'm laughing at maga being soaked through. I'm evil.
Laughing so much I'm having to wipe tears out of my eyes, apparently. maga decided that hanging around in freezing cold damp clothes was probably unwise, so he vanished off to get changed while we headed to yet another pub.
He returned later, dry and in good spirits, and cheerfully demonstrated his 'levitating pint' routine for us skeptics.We went off and had supper in one of the student halls, and somehow lost boingball along the way. We waited around, then went and sat in the student bar and concocted rapidly more implausible reasons for why boingball had disappeared. Our rising paranoia was given a hefty boost by the MUD server having gone down when we checked to see if we could contact boingball through that.Eventually, we all headed off to our respective homes.
THE END
(We later discovered that boingball had simply gone home. So much for paranoia.)