New Zealand ’03: A Departing Letter

October 8, 2003

Dear Sir,

I have heard it told that after only a few weeks in ruskyland, you are now calling yourself “Tsarina”.  Well I’m not having it, and wish to bring to your attention that one night attending a ballet performance of Swan Lake does not make you royalty!

I believe the current legislature requires twenty visits to respectable theatres that people have actually heard of, before you can even set foot on the lowest rung of Lordhood.

Please see the 2004 edition of Archer’s “Fings To Do To Count Yourself As A Nob” to help clarify the criteria.
Not only is it a noble and accurate guide for improving oneself – I particularly like the chapter on “The Funny Sounds Are Actually English: or How to Understand What Really Posh People Are Saying”; but it also lists the current approved performances that count towards your theatre trips.

I myself, have managed to obtain three of the stamps for my card.

My Harley Street General Practioner has advised that I not attend the theatre until May 2005, after the overwhelming experience of watching a Royal Opera House (Covent Garden) production of Wagner’s “Ring of the Niebelunglunglung” left me with piles.

And so it goes, wot ho?


I have today managed to sit down and read your emails (several of them in fact, apparently sent since 20th September) – this newfangled technology is interesting, non?  And so I thought I would response before cheerfully availing myself of a plane trip to the New Zealand peninsula.

I had rather been hoping for a First Class Concorde seat for my travels, but it seems they have all been booked up by wealthy Americans rushing over here to watch David Blaine peeing in a box over London.

Of course I am only repeating what I was told by the airline receptionist, but I am certain that cannot be correct.  It is so hard to find the right staff in these ages.

You will be aware that I have also sent this mail to Lady Venezuela of the Crystal Palace and the tall, pasty fellow she dates (Although I am told he does own half of the North – which practically makes him respectable); as well as the raven headed beauty who lives in the ‘wood, and that North American lady you picked up on your travels.

This is because I do not want to waste spare ink.  Sorry to be abrupt about it, but when I signed up for the charity marathon, I didn’t realise that it would put me in the company of questionable folks.  And until I am certain of your characters as upright citizens in our upwardly-mobile, wealthy and status-obsessed hierarchy, I shall use only one piece of paper between you all.


Please note that personal messages are as follows:

Dearest Victoria Moon –
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day in Peckham?  You are more lovely … and apparently, you will not be paying such large dental bills as the braces have been removed.  I say hoorah!  And again, hoorah!!

Does your head keep falling to the side like a dehydrated sunflower in need of showery sustenance?  Give it time, you will get used to it.  If not, I know a man looking for a wife who would take you just as you are.  He is a man well versed in cultural matters: well, he has been around a while, but what does age matter?  Five goats, he is offering and that’s a deal not to be sniffed at. 

Hope you are settling into your new abode and that the coming year is full of great and pleasant things.  Come see us soon…
Ahoy there Heather –
May these words find you enjoying sweet days and (Fill in your ideal, here) nights.   Rumour has it that you have managed to acquire a travel pass to enter this fair and much smaller isle sometime in the New Year. 

We look forward to entertaining you – it is important that people learn the correct fork to use.  Until then, we wish you continued success and (Your choice of Christmas presents).
What ho, Long Man –
I leave my beloved sister Venezuela in your capable hands.  Please ensure that she does the minimum of jogging as it quite ruined her posture and when I saw her on Monday, her gait was uncomely.

Certain that silly things always come up at work, none the less I hope that it is not too full of complicated incidents involving bunny rabbits and shaving foam.

I am as always, your servant, Sir.
My darling Venezuela –
I am off to seek adventure in the New World and in doing so, I am only following in the footsteps of our youngest, but tallest member.  Dinner was delightful.  We must do it again…
And so I leave you all with a bright smile and a “toodle pip”.  And until we meet again, I send humongous love and flying monkeys … flying monkeys …

Sincerely yours,

Your Honour, Your Grace, the Lady McWog™ of le petite Ford de Chat (Esquire)

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AUTHOR: I am might war. I have a love of music, the written word, travel, Anime, polar bears, people and “sticking and colouring”.

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