21 October 2026
Wednesday. Somebody wrote to ask whether this diary contains the answers. It does not. It never will.
I will write about my hats, my grievances and my laugh. I will not write down a single combination, code, order or hiding place. A villain who publishes his solutions is not a villain. He is a pamphlet.
Now, the year ahead. The coffins go to Melbourne on the first of March, at last, to sit near the cell and the waiter on Collins Street. The man on the intercom and the Butcher are both packing for Brisbane, where Escape This is opening a new centre in the first half of the year. I have asked for a room with a view; the Butcher has asked for a bigger fridge.
And the van, of course, is coming to Northbridge in late 2027, if the studio and I can agree on the door handles.
Meanwhile my producers have been named Escape Room Operator of the Year two years running, 2025 and 2026. They did not mention me in the speech. I have written them a short note about it, seven pages long.
More soon. Keep the lights on. Or don’t; I prefer it.
— U.
