Dear Scobie Breasley,
are you able to put us in contact with other of your ilk, that is, Australian Jockeys of a certain age or era? It is always our goal to have these fellows stuffed and then lean them against one another all along my garden path (crazed-paved, quite the "yellow brick road", and cloche-lined ("I loath thy microscopic Crystal Palaces, Hereward, Hereward and Hereward", quoth Aunt Min, but we gave her both peacocks and porcupines, so pay her no heed). An "Australian Jockey Domino Effect" indeed to goodness there's lovely, to please our Welsh kith, kin and kidney!
Failing this, we are willing to take hemlock, or indeed umbrage, so long as it is not broiled, basted or poached.
We once took poached hare, or was it hate, a mere apostle spoonful, and were bilious for centuries.
Aye, there's the rub, as Dr Johnson said, reaching for the goosegrease.
With Ever-Degreasing Surfeits,
The Triple Queenlets of Dahomey,
15 Sunny Villas,
Dunfermline,
Fife-with-Drum
Dear Sir,
Who Paul Macca-Carthorseknees? Also, he relation to this, who being Ringo-Caller Starpaulin, of a Thomas Toy Tank Training, that I cannot delve towards. These greater than Broken Down Angel of Nazareth on White Bicycle Crossbar Bunny. Get Thee Behind Me, Satin! Or four were. Beat-less. In Caverns Measureless To Isle of Man. Burke And Head. Liver's Ancestral Pool.
Dame Cilla Black,
23 Acacia Villas,
Pilling
Ma Cher Dame aux Camélias,
thank you for your last letter.
I would appreciate it if you would return forthwith the hippogriff which I lent you gone last Michaelmas. Here at The Kremlin we are having no end of trouble keeping the manticore subdued without the soothing presence of his friend "Griff".
And while I am about it, what is all this in your last about "1-dimensional oscillating lines"? You know I never could make head or tail of the "offside rule" or those crazy Italians with their "catenaccio"!
Gladys sends her regards. She says the discussion of "margin-equity ratios" was hilarious, but can't see where you are coming from on the "arbitrage arguments". She tries hard, does Gladys, but six years on the Grimsby trawlers has been of little use to her in her new career in rubber cultivation.
Last Wednesday's Day Trip to the Sargasso Sea was a qualified success. The mysterious migration of the eel is an endless fascination right enough, but as for being stuck on a coach with 35 penguins all that way, well, there's only so many conversations you can have about fish. They don't even distinguish the species. It's all just "fish" to them, and as for the huddling, you couldn't get to the loo for them huddling in the aisle or gangway or whatever it's called. The bus-driver said we should be thankful they weren't Emperor Penguins. Apparently, they can get truculent on a long journey. I suppose that's something to be thankful for.
The centaur is enjoying Horticultural College. We didn't think Newton Abbot would suit him, but he loves it. He's always at the racecourse. He doesn't wager, he just watches (or so he tells us!). So far, he hasn't broached the subject of taking part. Let's hope he absorbed all those talks we had about how you don't qualify without a separate jockey. I'd hate to see him disappointed again like he was at Aintree the other year.
Finally, we still haven't managed to get the Archduke Ferdinand removed from the back chimney. The man that came said he'd have to get help, being as how the Archduke was wedged in "diagonal-like". He was talking about blocks and tackles and stuff, which would have to come from Darlington. So we still can't light the kitchen fire!
Do write soon,
Henry John Temple, 3rd Viscount Palmerston,
11 Nightingale Villas,
Great Yarmouth,
