Woodney Lodge,

Sparrow Hawk Lane,

Bishop's Rumpole,

Mumerset.

12th April 1927

Dear Mr Kin,

I write to you about a small problem that has occurred. I was attending a soiree on Saturday last at the Duke of Humpney's residence. There I fell into a conversation with Sir St John Arkplanter, noted philanthropist. Much to my surprise I discovered that he suffered from a nose of such prodigious size that, to be crude, it would rival that of the famous Frenchman De Bergerac. This was but a minor impediment to our conversation on education amongst cane cutters in the Caribbean until his name was called from across the room by an old school chum.

Sir St John turned abruptly towards the sound and, his nose being as it was, I was forced to dart my head swiftly backwards. I avoided any collision with the man himself but unfortunately my peacock feather which Maude, my maid, had so firmly set in my hair jabbed backwards into a footman' left ear. This, naturally enough, caused him some irritation. This manifested itself as a high pitched yelp and a hop to the right. Straight into the path of the Duke. Thus it was that the Duke came to have Salmon Vol Au Vent ground into both his dress jacket and cavalry whiskers.

I managed to slip out in the confusion resulting but have this question. Next week is the Whampton Hunt and I am expected to attend as I am in charge of the catering. How should I address his Grace?

Yours in social unpleasantness,

Lady Euphemia P Lightbody

Next Time: A Dozen Red Bearded Dwarfs.

My Life as a Boozy Oaf Archive

Munchkin

21.04.05 Front Page

Back Issue Page