I love that Sir Walter Scott!!

So I was walking to work the other day and I saw this Blackberry in the middle of the sidewalk. Sometimes I really hate these moments because of all of the thoughts that bombard your mind.
"If I pick it up and put it in my bag and someone sees me they'll think I'm stealing this." "Great, look what I get to deal with today!"
"Cool, maybe I'll never find the owner and I can step it up from my 30P phone that always resets the VoiceMail setting"
"What fabulous reward will I get for a Blackberry"
"I'll just leave it on the fence and the owner will find it"
"Phone, what phone?...walk over it and don't look back." \
"I hate CATHOLIC guilt!!!"

Does anyone feel me on this?

I pick up the phone, assess my surroundings and see that there's a work truck beside me and roofers working at the house adjacent. I proceed to sound like an idiot saying, "sir, excuse me..Sir?! My timing was a little off between the moments of silence and his hammering away. As the scaffolding was draped with the roofers advertisements, I made a call to the office with the query whether crews were issued with Blackberries. The laugh at the end of the line was my answer. I next left my business card at the home address thinking that I would soon be the victim of prank calls, or possibly the thought that maybe this household would attempt to steal the phone from me. Take it!

By this time, I'm late to work and now have to deal with this. Blackberries have never been my thing...way too many communication capabilities coming at ya and it really leaves users with no outs for saying, "oh, I didn't get your call, email, fax, SMS, RSS." In a nutshell, I don't know how to use it to find the info and get this back to the appropriate person. My coworker gets me to the address book so I can peruse for the standard titles..Mom, Home, ICE, Office...something. After 500+ contacts, no clues whatsoever. Surely I must have missed something, so I'm back at it. Hmmm...BBC, Her Majesty's Treasury, Dun and Bradstreet, Morgan Stanley, Home Office, Security Task Force, Virgin, the Big Four, financial institutions, every government office...you get my drift? All of sudden I'm thinking, "hey this guy's big time." Let's look for Tony Blair!

So this guy's Big Time, so shouldn't he be calling his phone wondering if someone picked it up? I'm back to work and just sitting close in case Big Time calls. After an hour, I start thinking that surely there is something in this phone with the person's details and I find a name and phone number with the "if lost/return" message.

Here are my hints:
1. First Name
The name: "Peter, _____, and Mary" "_____ Frank is you friend" "John, ___, Ringo, George" "Pope John ____, II"
2. Surname (last name folks), 2 syllables
1st syllable
Mr. _ _ _ _ Bar
The _____, the bad, the ugly"
"___ night, and ____ luck"

2nd syllable
And on the sixth day, God created _ _ _.

One last hint for the surname..."John _ _ _ _ _ _ _ starred in Roseanne, the Big Lebowski, and Arachnophobia.

Moving on. I call this fool stating, Sir you dropped your phone at 6 Pages Hill. I live and work in Muswell Hill, here are my digits, let me know when you want to meet.

Due to the amount of prominent contacts and now discovering his name, I of course hit Google and start the search. Mr. Big Time is an MP. I call his office, but no one is there. I find his phone the same day Blair announces his departure. No wonder no one's been calling, there are definitely more important things going on. Around 2 I finally get a call.

MP: my "wife" got the message about the lost phone. Let's meet, but I just don't know how the phone ended up in Muswell Hill. I don't live anywhere close...it was stolen.
LT Thoughts: Really Sir, because you've made many phone calls since 4:30 this morning. One to your wife or sister....what a freaking coincidence. If someone stole it, you sure haven't been trying to call it!
LT: I called your office, you're the MP right, I'm sure you need the phone how should I get this to him, etc.
MP: "No, I'm not an MP" (the contacts state otherwise)
MP: "Oh, I can't meet" (ya, b/c then I'd know you were the MP right?)
LT: Ian works in the City, he could bring it tomorrow.
End of call
MP: "Oh, I can't meet in the City." (ya, b/c then I'd know you were the MP right?) Let me call you back.
End of call
MP: "Oh, my wife will pick it up tomorrow b/c she's coming to Muswell hill"
LT: Really Sir, that's odd, I thought you didn't live close. Where shall we meet.
MP: Let me call you back
End of Call
MP: My wife has a Doctor's Appt tomorrow in Muswell Hill.
LT: Really? (all doctors here serve a radius of 1/2 mile.) Great where shall I drop the phone
MP: Let me call you back
end of Call
MP: The address is 6 Pages Hill, that's pretty close to you right?
LT: Yes, shall I leave it with reception?
MP: Just drop it through the Mailslot, but only between 9 a.m. and before the appt at 4.
Lt: Would you like me to put it in a padded envelope before it falls to the ground and falls to a million pieces?
MP: Yes. Can I have your address so my "wife" can send you a box of chocolates.
LT: That's kind, but no thanks.
End of call

As I'm walking home from work sure enough 6 Pages Hill is exactly freaking across the street from where I found the phone. That one question, "Are you an MP?" set off a series of ridiculous lies. Little did he know that I was facing deportation.

Shady acres, whereas I wanted to send it to the Daily Mail and have them figure out the story, I bought my padded envelope and enclosed a little note, "Oh what a tangled web we weave, when we practice to deceive."

Now, every morning I walk by this home trying to figure out what exactly is going on behind the closed doors. I've seen a few men come out...option 1. The resident doctor is a female...option 2. Politician living out of district....I've never seen that happen between Torrance and PV!....Option 3. Meth lab...Option 4. I don't know, but I definitely enjoy my walk to work thinking of silly possibilities. Also, I get a little tingle of anticipation thinking my lovely MP is walking around with a guilty conscience.

Good people, good times. (1st syllable)

L