Hello there readers. I have been staying with friends of mine in the south of France. It is quite pleasant actually. The natives are reasonably civilised, and have a plentiful supply of gauloises and pernod.
Having very little communication with the empire I have to scratch the limited information that I can from the wretched red tops. They arrive a week late and the crossword is invariably half-finished. Bizzarely, it is attempted in French; although twice it has been italian and once what I believe to be sumerian. I think that someone is trying to send a message to me, but I cannot for the life of me think who. The steamlink has been on and off. Apparently the natives are a little restless over a decrease in garlic subsidies.
I read with interest an article detailing the demise of the ex-exchanger of articles, a one Noel Edmunds. It seems that, for some as yet unexplained reason, a freelance homicidal maniac has “done him in” as the vernacular in the criminal classes would put it. Noel’s body parts were – post termination – sliced up into separate parts. Each of the jigsaw pieces was then inserted into a numbered red shoebox. The plot thickens, like Mrs. Trousers’ gravy. The murderer is prepared to reveal his identity as long as his one demand is followed to the letter. It is this: That a live episode of Deal Or No Deal is televised with an audience of senior figures of the establishment. The host has been named as one Derek Akorah who has been given the task of deciding which box Noel’s head in apportioned to. If he predicts the location of the cerebral remains then the murderer will reveal which audience member he is. I for one will be tuning in the old zeotrobe for that one.
I shall keep you posted on further developments. I, myself, have a side-bet on Paul Daniels.
It probably means nothing to you, but here is a picture of a frenchman that I met today.