We've made it pass the horrible hundred though we seem to have taken a few injuries. B00bies has fallen, for the moment, to that terrible thing called 'work' and Postman Pat is M.I.A. presumed to be a dog's dinner. We soldier on as best we can. Not flinching as we report on the plethora of patches, bug fixes and maps VALVe force on us. Standing stoic in the face of a sticky-jumping demoman, like a flying Scottish gazelle, dealing death from above. All is not lost however, for Saxton Hale himself arrives to read your mail.
