No 3566 Set by Leonora Casement
You have belatedly discovered that you mixed up the Christmas presents, but strangely, even though it is now February, one of the recipients of the wrong gift has as yet said nothing to you. We asked for a letter of apology to this person.
Report by Ms de Meaner
A large postbag, but few were particularly inspired. At times like these I especially look forward to some good presents, but most were pretty run-of-the-mill. However, Adrian Vale can have an hon mensh for his slippers, each one shaped like a racing car with little headlights, as can Geoff Thurman for yet another dildo entry - a popular theme. As it was clearly such an effort, those who did manage to bring a grimace to my face can have £15. The bottle goes to Basil Ransome-Davies.
Dear Auntie,
Isn't Christmas a mad time of year? Even if you go easy on the party-going and merriment, as I do nowadays, it can be a terribly confusing affair. Getting the presents parceled up, addressed and posted among all the usual demands of work and family doesn't make for a calm atmosphere, and the odd little error does sometimes occur.
So my humblest apologies for the mix-up, and I'm arranging for your real present to be sent off to you immediately. I imagine you must have been quite puzzled by the gadget with its various fitments that did arrive, especially if you inserted the batteries and switched it on. But don't worry - that buzzing, oscillating action is simply a way of relieving a medical condition a close friend of mine suffers from. In your state of enviable good health you certainly have no need of such treatment. In fact you might as well quietly dispose of it. (And you might spare my blushes by not mentioning it to Cynthia - she thinks of her husband as a model of organised efficiency!)
Once again, my heartfelt apologies and best wishes.
Basil Ransome-Davies
My dear Glenn,
The mob from the Rationalist Press have been on the phone. Before Christmas they sent me some loathsome literature. I thought I'd posted it back to them: Ethics in a Secular Age, A Humanist Handbook and Funerals Without God - all sorts of corrupting rubbish! Sorry I mixed up the address labels. No doubt it's distressing to get this pernicious nonsense, but knowing your rock-solid faith, I'm sure you won't have been harmed by it. I'll send your genuine Christmas present as soon as they return what I chose for you: Harness the Power of Miracles, Your Guide to Spirit Mediumship through Ouija, Rapping, Table Turning and Automatic Writing, and The Feng Shui of Football. Barry says because of your spot of bother I'd do better to give you Assess Your Own Personality, Confident Public Speaking and How to Find the Perfect Job, but then, as you know, he's not one of us. Till Thursday next at Doris Stokes Hall.
Yours ever, Eileen
Anne Du Croz
Dear Uncle Gregory,
Thank you for the riding crop and for the history of fascism in Latin America that you sent me for Christmas. It was particularly kind of you to underline key passages of the book in blue. For your part you may have been surprised to receive a tub of goat's cheese and a hand-woven, nettle-dyed maternity smock. I can explain. The universal influence of Tondra, Jutish Goddess of Chance, was particularly strong in December, and the commune elders decreed that all out-going presents should be subject to a process of randomisation in her honour. This also explains why "Colonel" was deleted from the address and "Voracious life-plunderer" inserted instead. Between ourselves, I sometimes wish that I had become an insurance broker as you recommended. I understand that cousin Lucy got your cigars and ate three before her mother could intervene. Doubtless they provided excellent roughage.
I hope to come and see you at the Grange this year. I will bring neither my friends nor the caravan so perhaps we can avoid another shotgun incident.
Your affectionate nephew, Skydreamer (Nigel)
N Syrett
No 3569 Set by Leonora Casement
Years ago we ran a comp where children defined jobs in their own inimitable way, eg, "A Prima Donna is a very fat lady. You often see her on the stage, yelling with a lot of other fat ladies . . . "; "A cartoonist is a man who draws as bad as he can. The men he draws are nearly always in lines and not very often shady. He does not use a ruler so sometimes they are wobbly . . . "
We'd like modern occupations in the same style. Max 200 words and in by 4 March.
E-mail: comp@newstatesman.co.uk
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