Sir,
Things have come to a pretty
pass when the people of this town cannot go about their business without being belted
with a blancmange, a trifle, a spotted dick or a rubber chicken. And that’s not to
mention a clown bursting into Sunday service and squeezing his bulb in front of
innocent women and children.
And what, I ask you, are the
police doing about it? In a word, nothing! Even the riddles – and the last one was
utterly obscene, I might add – were solved by members of the public!
I spent over 45 years in the service of Her Majesty and let me tell you, we didn’t stand for this sort of nonsense in the army.
Anyone who so much as put on a dab of make-up, let alone a wig, would have been
bundled into the bunkhouse and had up by the Privates.
So come on, D.I. Hardman, live up to your nickname. Pull out your finger, apprehend this scoundrel and then bring down the hammer!
Yours disgustedly,
Maj. Redfers Nuthatch (ret'd)
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