Monday, 11 July 2011


In the middle of a most enjoyable evening spent in the company of a young lady of impeccable breeding, I made some excuse that allowed me to escape to my writing desk, whereupon I dashed off an epistle to an old chum from Repton regarding how lucky I'd been to meet up with such an exquisite and thoroughly charming creature. I then made the ghastly error of scribbling the young lady's address on the envelope, rather than that of my intended confidante, before passing it to my manservant to execute its delivery. When the extent of my foolishness dawned on me the following morn, I realised how lucky I had been to eschew first-class post.  The next day, a hastily-assembled parcel bomb - this time sent by first-class - arrived at the young lady's residence in advance of the letter.  It blew her face off, thereby saving mine.

1 comment:

Element12 said...

This works really well, the position of having to save face, and the extent that people feel pressured to protect their reputation is conveyed in just a few words. For the hero, and his evident high self-importance, the more others should sacrifice. Hilarious!