Reply to Rebecca #13

Preposterousness, pontification, puzzles and persiflage

Madam

I hope you are well, and I’d like to offer my sincere apologies for the lateness of my reply.

Now, about your recent letter. What’s all this about my “unproven claim to be a member of the aristocracy”? It’s preposterous. I have a certificate somewhere here that proves it. I came across it while converting a huge mess in my office (the heart of the Freedman Word Factory) into a more tidy mess. I’ve put it in a safe place. Your aspersion-casting is simply intolerable. And here is more proof. This is me and some woman I met when I lunched at the House of Lords recently (I’m the one on the right). What more proof do you want?

Oh, and before you start, that is not my handbag because I don’t use one.

Chas and Cam and I are best pals by one or two removes. My late mother-in-law met Chas when he was a mere prince, which means that Chas and I are virtually best friends. So put that in your pipette and smoke it, and stop pontificating about locking me up in the Tower.

On the subject of Chas, I hope you like the video I took (above) of an installation in London a few weeks ago. As for the coronation, it was delightful. I love all the history, and in the Abbey I enjoyed the view of Princess Anne’s feather.

And another thing. You wrote:

I know you have a first aid certificate which of course renders you *coughs* medically qualified…

Have you seen anyone about that cough, madam? It seems pretty nasty to me.

You further say, madam, that you are:

deeply concerned about the connection you have made between a UTI, which is a bacterial infection of the waterworks, and gout, an inflammatory joint condition affecting the foot.

Well, everything in the body is connected to everything else. There’s even a song about it:

The foot bone's connected to the leg bone.
The leg bone's connected to the knee bone.
The knee bone's connected to the thigh bone.

A few years ago I went to the doctor. They had this insane rule that you could discuss only one problem per appointment. This is how the conversation went:

Dr: What can I do for you?

Me: I have two things going on.

Dr: Well are they connected? Because I can only discuss one of them otherwise.

Me: Everything’s connected doctor. Surely you of all people ought to know that?

I got to discuss the two issues which were, incidentally, completely unrelated. (I knew my rights.)

As for publishing my scientific findings in The Lancet, I’m afraid I don’t have the time or energy to go through a peer reviewing process which will take years, conducted by people who do not appreciate my genius.

Changing the subject, I enjoyed your discussion about musical cats. My favourite scene from the Aristocats is where they are all falling through the house, and afterwards the piano keyboard still works even though it isn’t connected to anything.

Sir Thomas Beecham was once asked by someone what instrument he would recommend her son to learn, given that she was dreading the sound of him practising. He replied:

I can thoroughly recommend the bagpipes, madam, because they sound exactly the same after one has learnt to play them as they do while one is learning.

So you admit to cheating on the crossword: ha! Over the years I have tried the Listener Crossword (The Times) and Enigmatic Variations (Telegraph). Have you ever tried them? I hardly ever get beyond attempting to decipher the instructions. For instance, read this from The Listener:

The completed grid contains a message that has been encrypted using a transposition cipher. Sixteen symmetrically placed answers must be jumbled before entry. Clues to the remaining answers, and one of the jumbled ones, contain an extra letter (not in the definition) that must be removed to enable solving; in clue order, these spell out key information for decrypting the ciphertext. Solvers must add bars to enclose the region of the grid containing the ciphertext (thereby creating real words outside it) and write the plain text above the grid. Ambiguities in filling the grid are resolved by the correct plain text.

What?

Or try this one, also from The Listener:

The clue answers are based on equations of the form (B + C 66)(E + F 66) = G + H 66, where B, C, E and F are distinct nonzero digits, G is a positive four-digit integer with no zeros or repeated digits and H is some positive integer. In the clues the letters of DURATIONS stand for the digits 1 to 9 in an order to be determined. In seven cases the answer is a BCEF value, ie 1000B + 100C + 10E + F, and the grid entry is its G value; etc etc (there is the same amount again of this stuff).

Here’s a few of the clues that followed:

Or try Enigmatic Variations for size:

So easy. <Yawn>

Finally, ain’t nothing wrong with the number 13, though I found your mini-essay on the subject, and other superstitions, interesting and entertaining. I was born on the 13th as it happens. Every year on my bath day I declare a public holiday, which I think my fans appreciate.

But enough of this persiflage! I am signing off now.

Your epistolatory friend

Dr Tel

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