Undercover nooses playing the Long game.

"So many people 'crying' or 'in bits' over Bowie. F**K YOU. You are not ten - you are an adult. Man the f**k up and say something interesting. It is so deeply insincere watching all of this, that's all. I think grief should be private."
London Times reporter Camilla Long comforts the afflicted and harbours the harbourless (Huffington Post, 12.01.16)

'Do you think this will work?'
''Course it will. No-one'll suspect.'
'I hope not.'
'Nice bit of undercover work, if I say so myself. Who'd guess that a couple of hangman's nooses would--'
'Neese.'
'What?'
'Plural of noose. You know, like goose . . . geese.'
'Oh dear, oh dear...you won't stay long at the top of the game if you start worrying--'
'But it's got to be correct. For all the ladies and gentlemen. It's a public post.'
'Round which I shall have no compunction in wrapping you if you keep on. Now...who'd guess that a couple of nooses--'
'Neese.'
'I can always arrange for you to see out your days supporting a wilted hanging basket in an unregarded corner of one of our less visited look-at-the-state-of-that homes.'
'But-'
'Who-would-guess! That we were a couple of seasoned swingers. I mean, look at us. Blend right in. Pure Facebook.'
'Well, all right, but I don't want to get caught by that bear and . . . whatever the small thing is.'
'We shan't. They've gone home for the night. Now, let's have a look at the jobs pending sheet.'
'Some woman called Long. Journalist. Waits to see what everyone's feeling, then has a go at them for feeling it.'
'Ah, yes, we've encountered the like before, I think. I bray therefore I am. Let's see . . . hmm, all details appear to be in--'
'Here, you know afterwards? I mean, will they call her Twice As--'
'Stop right there!'