My Dear Friends
I regret that a considerable period of time has passed since I last wrote to you, although I have no doubt that my grandson Ivanhoe has been keeping you abreast of the planned disasters that masquerade as ‘the News’. However, I believe it is now fitting for my secretary Catherine to dust off the old Remington to let you know that you are still in my thoughts during these trying times.
Speaking of which, I am aware that the usual charlatans are promoting something they call ‘digital identification’. I note that one of these malefactors is the little upstart twerp by the name of Hague, a man who did so much to destroy my old party. I must warn these Reichsleiters that their plans are unlikely to succeed.
One of my forebears, Sir Cosmos Chatterton, tried something similar. He was short-sighted and profoundly deaf. In order to distinguish which household member or estate worker he was addressing he devised an identification procedure whereby each person would configure their fingers differently. For example, he instructed the estate manager to form a circle with his thumb and forefinger, the cook was to proffer only her ring finger and so on. As you might imagine, this rudimentary coding system was wide open to identity theft as the respective digit configurations became common knowledge. The plan was soon abandoned and replaced by recognition based on smells. The cook would be required to smell of bacon, the maids of lavender, the gardeners of compost, the pig man of manure and so forth.
Although I rarely visit the Palace of Westminster, I recently popped into the Lords for lunch before a business engagement in the City. After a decent steak and an acceptable claret, I did briefly show my face in the once-esteemed Chamber only to find that a former social worker was arguing the toss with a former car salesman about potholes in Dewsbury. O tempora, o mores!
Although it is an irrelevance, being a Lord does give me the chance to travel occasionally. One such expedition was a fact-finding trip to Swaziland (now called Estapona, Esterrantzon, Esperanto or some such) to study a Foreign Office project relating to an endangered butterfly or moth. I must say it was a blessing to have Catherine by my side to keep my pecker up as there are only so many earnest lepidopterists, chrysalises and cocoons one can cope with.
Whilst there we were royally entertained by His Majesty King Mswati III, a jovial cove who has to put up with 16 wives. The King is an absolute monarch who controls just about everything that happens in the country. I have to admit that it caused me to ruminate that an absolute monarch might be the best chance we have of rescuing our benighted nation. Of course it could not be the current traitor or his family at the helm, but perhaps the time is ripe for a Chatterton dynasty. I firmly believe that Ivanhoe would make an excellent monarch. He would immediately invoke mass deportations, restore the death penalty, reintroduce corporal punishment and make the feckless contribute to society. I would naturally be Richelieu to his Louis XIII to curb any excesses of power.
You will be pleased to read that Lady Veronica has overcome her fear of the internet to become a lemon drizzle cake ‘influencer’. I do not know what this is but she tells me she appears on something called FaceTube to reveal the ingredients and methods required to make her perfect confection.
Despite the gloom engendered by the totalitarian clowns in the Commons, I urge you all to remain positive. The good people of Tittleham have never been cowed. We will resist the proposed evil digital intrusions into our lives and, God willing, look forward to redemption following the coronation of Ivanhoe the First in the not-too-distant future.
As ever, your humble servant,
Lord Charles Chatterton
Tittleham Hall
Middle Tittleham
