Wednesday, 23 March 2011

The Case Of The Missing Ouseph (Part_A).


My dear Ouseph,

Apologies for my tardiness, I have become rather reliant on a drop or three of Claret with (and after, truth be told) dinner.

Therefore, combined with my general lethargy, and forgetfulness, and tendency for procrastination, I have become a tour de force of scat; a maelstrom of inefficiency.

So, anyway...

I was in the club talking to Chris Choi, about his unnecessarily crass laugh and fortified footwear, when we were approached by Maurice, who started wiping his own mouth with a cold flannel.

He asked me how I was (forgetting my name in the process), before asking whether I'd seen you recently.

I told him you were busy preparing for a life with an extra mouth to feed, and he started coughing up blood. Chris Choi promptly threw up on Russell Grant, who was sat to his right, alone.

Visibly shaken, Maurice then left the scene. He was very subdued, and it was clear to all that he still holds you in high regard. It is understood that he misses your regular attendance. Perhaps you could give him a call.

Your sudden departure, and absence, from the boules training sessions and the club nights, not to mention the BAFBA Annual General Meeting, has led to more questions than answers.

Questions, it would appear, that I am having to field. 

I do sometimes wish that you had straightened things out before your hasty exit.

Anyway, it must be nice to be missed. 

I trust you are managing to dot the i's, and cross the f's.

Right, now, I really must tell you about an entriguing new club member that I met after helping a stricken Choi into a tuk-tuk. 

His name is Derek, and he looks like the projected offspring of Alvin Stardust and The Milky Bar Kid.

He asked me if I'd ever been to Amarillo.

I said 'yes', for I had.

He then asked me if I stayed at the 'Camelot Inn'.

I said 'yes', for I had.

He then asked me if my name was 'Reuben'.

I said 'no', for it isn't, and he walked away.

I wondered what he would have done/said if my name was Reuben, or at least if I told him that my name was Reuben.

Your thoughts on 'The Alvin Kid', as I will now refer to him, are, as ever, welcome.

Does he have a sinister agenda? Should I befriend him? Am I to avoid him? Should I tell him that Maurice's name is 'Reuben'?

Must dash - I've yet to finish my strudel.

Very best,



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