His Tedness has received much attention in the Australian press of late, re "The Birthday Letters". The reviews have been favourable, but then, two of them were written from the Old dart, so I'll hold fire until I've read the book. It's only just reached us; two days ago in fact. Things take time to get here. It's like fashion getting to Cork after it's died in the bum in London two years previously.
Here's something for:
MR EDWARD HUGHES
amateur ornithologist, botanist,
marine biologist and sometime
scribe from Whipping, Oneupmanshire,
was given a rousing farewell last night
from the office heıd held for many years
at the Royal Academy of Song.
The party, at the Cock and Crown
turned nasty when a gang
of unpublished poets, animal
liberationists and Daddy-loving
headstone correctionists stormed the club.
A member slurred: ³Tedıs always been
a dark horse, what!² Mr Hughes
left the club, pursued by the mob.
After running a few blocks, out of blow,
he turned to them and showed his teeth
like a pike out of water as he growled
and entered the Faber & Faber bunker.
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