In an audacious gambit usually reserved for the penultimate scene of an Oscar-nominated blockbuster, the beleaguered Thunderbolt Times raised its literal anchor and dispatched it via a flock of surprisingly strong carrier pigeons to Admiral Walter Webfoot of the Ninth Naval Squadron. The Times, a long-respected newspaper institution, has recently come under siege (this time figuratively) for its audacious journalistic style and face-melting headlines that its critics say rival the shock value of a pack of Mentos dumped into a two-liter Coca-Cola bottle. At the core of the conflict is none other than Admiral Walter "My Webfeet Are Perfectly Normal" Webfoot, known for his adamant pro-clam digging policies, a stance that has (naturally) infuriated the reportedly "shellfish-intolerant" Chief Editor Oswald Ruffling Quills of the Thunderbolt Times. With every clam-digging policy Admiral Webfoot has proposed, Quills has counter-attacked with headlines so blistering they've been reported to spontaneously combust. However, such journalistic fireworks come with a heavy cost (yes, more literal, aren't you getting the theme here?). The Times has been teetering on the brink of bankruptcy from ongoing legal disputes brought upon them by irate clam-related lobbyists and Admiral Webfoot, whose feelings are persistently getting as hurt as a barnacle attached to a speedboat. And so, in an act of desperation, Quills commanded 42 of his burliest carrier pigeons (all appropriately named Sam) to lift the newspaper's actual anchor (displayed in the office lobby since the Great Printing Press Incident of '87) and send it on its airborne journey to Admiral Webfoot’s flagship. Upon receiving the SOS-tagged anchor, Webfoot was reportedly as surprised as a catfish blasted with a subaquatic oxygen cannon. The admiral had no previous experience of communicating via anchor, but promised to respond. Webfoot's response? A surprisingly sassy "I thought I told you to drop it, not to drop it on my doorstep", which was stylised in the form of a man-sized crab sculpture, of course. It was escorted to Quills by a brigade of banana-yellow submarines. And so the saga continues, providing daily spasms of joy to the bored onlookers of this epic newspaper-navy saga. We perhaps laugh at the madness now, but one wonders if this clam-digging conflict might result in future generations sending messages via a series of carefully arranged jellyfish. Which, come to think of it, would be quite a sight. Anyway, stay tuned, my bemused audience, to monitor the next antics of this serious-as-lobster wrestling match between a distinguished newspaper and a naval admiral.