Firestorm Over Europe

To: Sarah-Jane Chlamydia Rossington-Smythe.

Subject: Grave Concerns

Dearest Clammy

I am sorry to say we are accommodated in the worst hotel in the entire Harwich area.

It is unfortunate that several of your members, and indeed your good self, are unable to make it at present. I can at least console myself with the knowledge that you will be plainly be having a better time than I, but I must say that I feel the need for assistance in exercising discipline. Already Mrs Frapschott-Marsh and Mrs Ripley have been eying up the richer gentlemen amongst the other guests and I may have to keep a close eye on events.

The phone here sadly does not work so I am e-mailing you to give you tomorrow’s itinerary in the hope that you’ll pick up this communication.

We will be setting off to catch tomorrow’s cruiser to Hamburg which as we are now aware sets sail at 4 and 23 minutes in the morning. The injured members of our parties will be catching the train back to London apart from Ms. Smythe-Buttress and Mrs Coombes – both of whom will be returning by ambulance for emergency shuttlecock extraction – and of course for poor Miss Bloomfield who has already returned in the same transport in which she arrived, albeit developing rigor mortis on the back shelf.

I have already had quite enough of this trip.

Yours

Bats

Words of Wisdom

A man’s not dead while his name is still spoken.

— Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

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