The Hackney Marsh Debacle of 2002
To: Sarah-Jane Chlamydia Rossington-Smythe.
Subject: Oh Dear
My Chlamydia,
I am sorry it’s been a few days in writing. I have, I’m afraid, been waiting for my arm to heal – as well as ministering to the fallen amongst our group.
Firstly, I can only apologise. My map was purchased in 1953 and shows Hackney to be a civilised village as opposed to the ghastly little hellhole it has so patently become. This at least explains why what I had supposed to be a light country walk instead became a gruelling hike up a stretch of motorway.
On a related note, I’m afraid I still cannot forgive Ms. Zimmer’s ruthless profiteering. Carrying one passenger at a time in her car at £15 a go was despicably uncharitable. Frankly, then finding the area had been converted into what reminded one of a Prisoner of War Camp replete with mud (and I know that of which I speak – remember the Turkish prison!) was merely the icing on the cake.
Despite your best efforts to choose a more serene location it must be said the noise was once again utterly horrendous. And as for having to climb the fence – well! The unfortunate incident in which Ms. Marchant caught her underclothes on the barbed wire was quite, quite ghastly and I hope to put it behind me as soon as possible.
It must be admitted, however, that when she can have the stitches removed she may qualify for membership of your group far more than she ever did before.
As for your Miss Twigham getting a ride on one of those motorcycles – I can only say I still find it most unseemly for a woman of her age – particularly with all those young girls watching. I don’t know what she could have been thinking.
I truly regret the whole experience. Nonetheless I feel we cannot be daunted. Cry Havoc I say!
Yours,
Bathsheba.