Wednesday 6 February

A surprising development. While giving a thorough goodnight to her soldier fiancé in the darkened stairwell last night, Miss Jordan spotted two men returning to our building from a night out. From her description this morning there is no mistaking them for any other beings than Scarface Jones and Shifty McQuiggins. As you know, I am all for parity of pay and equal rights, provided they are distributed randomly by a Viscount, but now must ask myself how these two floor-workers (a cap stiffener and junior checker-upper) can afford to rent or buy amongst these shabby-chic apartments in what, positionally, could only be described as the brains of this muscular hub. How on top of this they manage such lavish and lavascious entertainment, staggering through the spinning machines ‘in high spirits’ before unleashing an Amazon of Starjuice and pie-kebab into our elevation machine, is beyond me. Someone has left a note describing them as ‘animaux’ but is it not true that animals have cunning as well as bestiality? Sanchez here just offered to reach Daisy in South America by strapping himself to Britain’s fastest otter. Incidentally, it is Che O’Gooner in Patagonia who has been in touch most recently – offering to put me up, with typical kindness, should cotton prices continue to head down.

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