Correspondence from the pen of Marquis E.P.K.S. de Charborg au Chantilly.
Kensington my old sparring partner,
I am awfully sorry to hear about the loss of those badgers. Might be something in the air because I'm having a jolly difficult time securing a full compliment of stoats for my traveling stoat diplomatic mission to the State of Nevada. Did I mention I'm on UN posting these days? Perhaps you should let me put in a good word for you, get you out of those little jaunts you like to call expeditions. Or perhaps it's time for you to retire? Ha! I jest.
The fine fellows at the United Nations have provided me with all the stoats I can drink for the purpose of infiltrating the gaming industry in this godforsaken hell-hole. I remain committed to the true vision of this noble quest and all it signifies, but the stoats require a steady supply of chewing tobacco to keep them loyal. I have tried weening them onto ham and cheese croissants but they insist the conditions in the pig farming industry are unethical and refuse to touch them.
Six days in and I have yet to discover how to set the wake-up call on my room telephone. I have lost four of my best men on retrieval missions to the concierge. Of each one only a little pair of fluffy booties remains. I can't admit this to the men, of course, but morale is at a low point. If we can't work out how to order some more lobster thermadore to our suites soon, things will be pretty desperate. God only knows what will happen if we are forced to open the minibar, but I will be damned if I'll let it come to that. Still, I don't know where I will find the strength to continue.
In the meantime the stoats are singing the men to sleep at night to calm their spirits. It's a temporary measure (and the stoats, rescued from a Cockney stoat-smuggling ring only know old Music Hall tunes) but the nightly knees ups are a pleasant diversion as we contemplate our predicament.
I have developed a rash, and though one doesn't like to complain, I have attached a picture for your consideration. Diagnosis, old chap?
As always I work for the glory of His Illustrious Majesty King Bernard Schrift and the greater glory of the Belgian Empire.
Yours,
Charlie
Bounder, Cad, Reprobate, Scoundrel.
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