As we can now look back safely to the days of or own true mendicancy (continued into the foreseeable future), one member has moved on to a position which brings him remuneration. Frankly, a disgusting failure. That is to say, these 'wages' consist solely of a carload of turnips and a pound of mud each month (perhaps containing a carrot, or a bone to chew on). This cad, however, owes the Society 10 pounds (a tenner of Her Majesty's currency/ten sheets of money), plus the standard societal three points a week. Total debt of this debtor so far: 465 pounds and counting. Tomorrow, if he reads this in time, he will lose one knee-bone (or other available bone, though not his spine, which Maman removed about 30 years ago).
UPDATE on the complot: not only will said cad be kicked in the nads, a twist of treachery will be added: the societal outing today will still go on, but without the I, who initially thought up the plan to show a true amateur of charity shops the ropes...
LEVEL TWO: It was nap time in Boom Town.