Domiron

“Now just no sane person could describe my boat as a rowing boat. It has a cabin, there are no oars, and even if there were, they couldn't be used becasue The Seeker isn't fitted with rowlocks. And what was a "floating" petrol bomb?
The whole idea of petrol bombs is to cause as much spreading of the fire as possible. So a glass bottle is used which will shatter on impact and spray the burning petrol over a wide area. Shine said that the "bomb" had been in a plastic bottle, which had floated on the water. This must have been the biggest load of rubbish that he ever came out with. A plastic bottle wouldn't have shattered - it would have most likely bounced off the target. As for floating, the waves on the loch that morning were about two feet high. Shine's "bomb" would surely have been extinguished very quickly.
Despite all this, the police seemed to be pursuing the matter. They asked me if I would go on a voluntary identification parade to see if one of Shine's team could pick me out. What a joke! Of course they would have picked me out. I am even more well known than my boat. Twenty thousand visitors a year for the past ten years, two hundred and thirty T.V. documentaries, my picture must have appeared in at least five hundred newspapers and magazines ... I declined the offer. In fact, I began to wonder if the police were helping Shine to set me up.
The one consolation I got from all this was that it proved how desperate these people were. How badly they wanted to stop - or hold up the production of this story. Even if the British media won't touch it, I'm sure that certain publications on the Continent will, and I have many contacts. Over the past twenty years one small group of people have taken more than half-a-million pounds out of the Loch Ness scene under the guise of investigation. It's time that they were exposed - and stopped.”
― Frank Searle

“You damned interfering murdering lousy little worm!”
― Agatha Christie, Evil Under the Sun

“Now if the antient opinion, that men might live very comfortably on virtue only, be, as the modern wise men just above-mentioned pretend to have discovered, a notorious error; no less false is, I apprehend, that position of some writers of romance, that a man can live altogether on love; for however delicious repasts this may afford to some of our senses or appetites, it is most certain it can afford none to others. Those, therefore, who have placed too great a confidence in such writers, have experienced their error when it was too late; and have found that love was no more capable of allaying hunger, than a rose is capable of delighting the ear, or a violin of gratifying the smell.”
― Henry Fielding, The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling

“I see a lot of head wounds. I always hate them. The greatest thing in the world, the brain; and to see it torn apart like this— Well... I hate it Columbo. I just goddamn hate it.”
― William Harrington, Columbo: The Grassy Knoll