January 4th
Well, helloooooo, to you, Miss Dung Head! I'll bet the droning rhonchus of the pipers keeps your sweet heart (sweetheart, yeah, right--in a pig's eye!) from missing the sound of your mother's unforgettable voice now that she's been taken away (ha! ha!--They've come and taken her away--ha! ha!). Play on, pipers! Play on! I'll keep writing the bloody cheques to keep the hire of ye'! There's No Business Like Schadenfreude Business!
And it wasn't the December wind, my little bird of great goggles and keen observation, that blew their kilts up. I hired out a wind machine to guarantee your amusement on that account while on the lawn. The old Emily would have laughed and blushed and blown me kisses for such a trick, but not this new permutation: faithless, humourless, and still disturbingly sciapodous. Has this Musick Man Person seen the size of your pieds, Clementine? Don't imagine he's going to want to take too many of the "steps" you mention once he gets a good look at how treacherous a walk that would be.
No regards at all, strumpet!
Mr. Beastly
