Residents may have noticed that, between 11am and 11.02am today, the legs of our towncrier Nathaniel Prout took on a life of their own. "I found myself dancing in a way I have never danced before," Mr Prout told onlookers afterwards. "In fact, I had never danced before at all. So this felt very odd." Within those two anomalous minutes, Mr Prout performed an increasingly frantic samba, tango, Viennese waltz and belly dance, all while continuing to make his proclamations. "I don't know why this happened," he said. "And I sincerely regret that it happened while I was announcing the death of our beloved librarian of 78 years, Mrs Edith Wairfeather." Residents who witnessed the incident: how did it make you feel?

Which part of the Castle are you currently most suspicious of? • the dungeon beneath • the fog • the hats • the soup • the geese • the walking mirrors • the administrative staff • something else 👇

Strawberry blancmange for all in the 9th Quadrant this evening. To claim your free blancmange, simply name your favourite imaginary uncle. 👇

For reasons yet to be established, tomorrow’s edition of The Daily Fog will consist entirely of the phrase: “Not yet.” repeated across all 94 pages. Any resident with inside information regarding this erratum is encouraged to come forward.

This is an ongoing record of which kind of cheese the Castle's front portcullis is made from. Guests are reminded to keep nibbling to an absolute minimum.