I confidently approached the security guard and she confidently told me to sling my hook, so I confidently slung my hook. Slang my hook? Slinged my hook? Pish, I don't have a hook anyway, and it was too late to buy one now, so I just got out of there as quickly as I could.
Right then, if the only way I could get into to the place was to become a boffin, then a boffin I would become. I whooshed along to the local library so that I could use one of their computer machines. They had six computer machines, but they were all being used by sticky children. I picked out the smallest one then kicked his chair out from under him. Then, when he started to cry, I "Shushed!" him and told him to get out. Just for good measure I threw a big book of dinosaurs at him as he left. Then I sat at the computer machine and got down to business.
There are two ways to become a boffin. Actually, there are three ways, but the third is messy and requires lubricant, so I'll just tell you about the first two. The first way is that you have to study your given subject for years and years and years until your hair falls out and your head swells up and you go all swivel eyed. Well, I don't got time for that. The second way is that you hack into the International Institute of Boffinology and add your name to their boffin register and print out a special certificate. You can also get it to validate your parking at the same time, although I didn't have a car, silly.