My Dear Ouseph,
"Fortune dwells on tales of yay and woe - woe is me, therefore my fortune remains untold, and, yay, woeful." - Unknown.
I met with Laszlo last night.
He sends his regards, but, interestingly, only after I said "Shall I send Ouseph your regards?"
You still haven't told me what happened between the two of you at Glenna's stag. I presume he behaved poorly. When drunk he is a man of few words and even fewer brain cells. Thank god he works in the government sector.
Prior to the drink (not) talking, he told me he was visited by a UFO that landed in his corn field, and, thinking that no one would believe him, he had set fire to the craft immediately.
I suspect he is actually telling the truth. After all, why would he lie?
Out of interest, does your neighbour, Edward, still insist that the 'e' in 'e-mail' was named after him?
It's just that I was talking to an ombudsman yesterday, whilst Laszlo was being sick in the ocean, and he reckons it stands for 'electronic'.
Your thoughts, as ever, are welcome.
Oh, and do tell whether you're coming to town for business or pleasure - if you've a spare yard for a yarn, perhaps we could meet at the club?
Very best,
Pitkin
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