Still glued to the coverage. Ticking away, tweet by tweet, in its own browser window on my computer.
All my colleagues are following the Oscar case in the same forensic detail I am, to the point where this office - this lowly office in central London -is starting to feel like an actual court room.
Brits aren't used to seeing an OJ-ike case played out in the media. Libel and all that, is serious here. So this is somewhat new to them.
Peas: Oh no. It's not looking good for the prosecution. Oscar has even stopped crying.
English: Literally, fucked. That 'Roux' character threw him a rope and the prosecution has slowly but surely offed himself with it.
Dutch: I don't think he did thish intentionally. Shot hish girlfriend, I mean.
English: [gasp] Really? Chaps, listen to this. We have a defender.
Peas: OK, so what do you think happened?
Dutch: I think he was on loadsh of drugsh.
Peas: What kind of drugs? Because it looks like it wasn't steroids they found in his home.
English: You think he was on mushrooms.
Dutch: Yesh. You should shee shome of theshe people that come to Amshterdam and take mushroomsh. Shometimes they go crazy and think they can fly, climbing on rooftopsh and shtuff. I think he wash on the mushroomsh and didn't know what he wash doing.
Peas: You think he was on a jolly, you say. Interesting hypothesis.
English:Well I suppose murder is practically legal in Holland.
Peas: Right, let's look at this bathroom and floor plan again. He clearly walks past the bed, as we can see here. And I think the door and the angle that the shots have been taken, are the key.
English 2: Ah, the "door" and the "key". I see what you did there.
Not to make light of what's going on of course. But with a case so utterly intrinsic, so horrifically tragic, and so dominant in the news - we all kind of think we are characters in Inspector Morse right now.