h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Mr. and Mrs. I. Christopher
request the pleasure of
Mr. Spimcoot's
company at dinner
on Sunday evening, July 20th
at half past seven o'clock
647 Ditherton Street, Lithalvania
to discuss matters most trivial.
Formal dress is expected, so be sure to wear dark broadcloth and fine linen.

Dear Mr & Mrs Christopher,

I gladly accept your kind dinner invitation; indeed, I actually ate it. You'd printed it on rice paper: so thoughtful.

I shall wear a trifle in my underwear.

Yours, with trifle in underwear,
Mr spimcoot

Dear Mr. Spimcoot,

It is with much importance that I send this letter. Thank you for accepting our invitation. Will you be attending our dinner party with a companion? If not, could you most graciously escort our daughter, Muriel, age four? She is a great fan of your work, especially those delightful Eustace cartoons. Each week, she sits at the base of the stairs and asks me to read them to her, her eyes and ears at attention and her hands driving pins into her voodoo dolly.

Yours truly,
Mrs. Erica Christopher

P.S. Muriel is beside me now and asks whether Miss Tibia* and her hot jazz trumpet will have their own mini-series someday. I say that we would all enjoy that immensely.

*http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/classic/A634079

Dear Mrs. Christopher,

I am writing this missive in my capacity as the Secretarial Attaché to Mr. Spimcoot.

It is my duty to inform you that he has prior engagements this weekend,having been lured into after-dinner speeches in France, but said personnage assures that a swift reply to your delightful invitation to dine will be forthcoming soonest; as to encumbrances, I shall not assume duties above my humble station, and remain,

Your humble servant,

Terri.

Dear Terri,

It is with a sad and heavy heart that I accept your letter. Just this morning, our dear and saintly housekeeper, Mrs. Fingbottom, slipped and fell from the terrace that juts over a sixty foot cliff above the roaring ocean tides and was bashed to pieces upon the rocks, her mangles flesh becoming entangled in the flotsam and seaweeds. I hope to see you soon, at luncheon perhaps?

Sincerely,
Mr. Christopher et famile

Dear Mr Christopher et famile,

How gracious of you to accept my Secretarial Attache's invitation of self to your soiree or soirette. I should hate to disappoint your daughter, however, who sounds like a formidable child. May I suggest a compromise? Perhaps I might bring Miss T but leave her in the secretarial attache case I borrowed from Howard Carter: it makes a marginally less decorative objet standing in the corner than the lady herself, but prevents her from dervish dancing; a delightful display but distracting, and the very devil for digestion. This will leave me free to escort your charming and petrifying offspring. If this looks like having one's cake and eating it, I ask you: what is cake for if not eating? To have one's cake and leave it in the armchair or stuffed casually into one's pockets looks like bad manners to me.

Yours atrociously,
Mr Coote (SPIM, ret.)

Crumbs!

Er, Mr Christopher, might I perchance bring up the delicate subject of the young lady's age?
Not that I am suggesting Mr Coot would in any way compromise her of course, but it is as well to be aware of the social implications I always say.

Yours sincerely,

I remain, possibly temporarily,

Terri
(Cultural Attaché, Amphibian Embassy)

It's true that I don't usually deign to be escorted by females of such advanced years; I'm not up to the conversation donchtyouknow, but upon hearing of the voodoo doll I felt strangely comforted, apart from a stabbing pain in my right shin.

Coote

To Mr. Coot, care of Mr. Terri

Yes, it is true that Muriel is quite capable when pertaining to the dark arts. I tried once to learn to her the delicate practice of pastel painting, but she said, "My dear papa, I cannot understand why you think it so imperative that I learn to make smudgy marks on card paper." I was forced to agree, firstly by my deep respect for my daughter's genius, and secondly by the asp that slithered down from the chandelier and onto the drawing room table.
After that experience, we are all here a bit nervous. Just as I sat down to write this letter, I upset a nearby oil lamp onto my morning jacket.
Now to the matter at hand: Throughout the week of the fifteenth of August, Antonio Ghaligigaretti will be performing at the local Opera House a one-man rendition of Gilbert and Sullivan's "The Mikado". If you would like to meet us at the opera or afterwards for supper, please reply within ten days.
Miss Chervil, our new housekeeper, tells me that one of the footmen has graciously offered to hold the secretarial attache containing Miss Tibia during the meal and after events, which may include dancing or perhaps a music recital. The dessert cakes will be chocolate with walnuts and vanilla with lemon.
I have so much more to tell you! Mais alas, it seems that my arm is now on fire and every stroke of the pen causes more and more excruciating pain. I must be off to the infirmary.

Your soon-to-be acquaintance,
Mr. Ira Christopher

P.S. The snake has been returned to it's home in my neighbor's greenhouse and shall not bother us unless upon request.