We’re playing a lot of Cluedo in our house at the moment, and I can’t help noticing how ridiculous the game is. For instance, how could a character not know whether they were the murderer? And what kind of mad house has rooms that do not connect to each other, but instead are reached by a hallway that threads its way throughout the entire building?
Despite these absurdities, Cluedo somehow manages to leave a deep, lasting impression, so that every man, woman and child who has ever played it secretly longs to live in a house with a ballroom, a library and a conservatory.
And, I have a confession to make.
When I was young I secretly loved Miss Scarlett. I knew that she didn’t love me back, but that first unrequited love was deep and passionate. I knew that other small boys loved her too, and that the cold-hearted bitch didn’t care for them either. We all knew it, bit it didn’t matter. Our desire for the aloof, scarlet woman was just too strong. We would have done anything for her, if she would just have acknowledged us in some small way. But she never did. She never could.
And so, I admit it. It was me. I murdered Dr Black. It was a crime of passion. I did it in the library (or was it the billiard room?) and I used Miss Scarlett’s cold, disdainful looks as the murder weapon.