UPDATED: annual flyers - I used to love getting a flyer for the year's annuals (and then, to no avail, ticking off the ones I was interested in getting for the upcoming Christmas)....
Monday, 27 May 2013
Dear Prof Bromfield and Dr Clattercut
We’re having trouble with our giant. He’s not content to lie on the hill any more; he goes for a wander at all hours, stepping right over the houses. Children are asking their parents all sorts of difficult questions and the nub of it is, we need to get some trousers on him.
Some of the ladies who organize the church fête were kind enough to sew him a big set of leather breeches, but he won’t keep them on for five minutes. Last week he went for a dip in the river to cool off, leaving the breeches blocking traffic in the high street. We had to cut them up with cavalry sabres so that the brewer’s dray could haul them off.
the Reverend Cuthbert O’Dwyer,
Dr Clattercut replies: He may simply be unfamiliar with the concept of trousers. Some of the pre-Roman tribes of these isles wore kilts. Perhaps you should try that.
Prof Bromfield: Not a lot of use, Clattercut, if you think about it. The altitude, you see, means the kilt would do little for propriety.
Dr Clattercut: Yes, I see. It would have to be something more like a nappy.
Prof Bromfield: Heavens, man, imagine somebody told you to put on a nappy! How do think you might react to that, eh? Good lord, the last thing we need in this heat is a giant on the rampage through Dorset.
Dr Clattercut: Or any county other than Essex. Well then, Mr O’Dwyer, let me suggest an inducement. Why not get everyone in the village to take up bee keeping? Then I think your giant will soon see the benefit of a thick pair of trousers.
Tales of the Year of Wonders abound in A Minotaur at the Savoy, a collection of curious correspondence curated by Professor Bampton Bromfield and Dr Cyril Clattercut, with the studious noninvolvement of Dame Sepia Belchamy.