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Terror Alert Hotline: Tuesday.

"They had funny accents," I said to the muffled voice on the line, which I had decided to call Felix. "I mean, suspicious sounding."

"What were they saying?"

"It was another language," I said, despondently. I was failing by great country, the land of freedom and, for a few days now, private citizens and their video cameras. "I don't suppose you have a translator I can borrow?"

"No. Do you have any idea what they were saying?"

"Well, I did pick up the word crusade."

"Crusade?" I could sense the excitement of Felix through the phone. "That's a red light word! Congratulations!"

"They had books," I said hurried, aiming to please. "Big thick books with funny covers on them, and they kept pointing at them and saying, clear as day, crusades. If it wasn't for that funny language they were talking, I'm sure I wouldn't found out more. I would've known who they were planning to attack--you can't trust no British person with a book, after all."

Felix, after some thought, agreed. Apparently, 'book' was an amber alert word, and due to my success in helping the new hotline, the government was going to send me out a lovely washing machine. pristine white, it was, just how they liked it.