Dear ravaged Rosalind:
My vanquished, tarnished and varnished - how are you?
Thought I would leave it 48 hours before writing again: to let the dust settle in the wake of our legal sand storm where common-sense seemed to entirely desert you. I hope you have spent the time smarting in defeat. That said, I don't want to rub Saharan salt in your wounds: Take heart, we humans can learn from our mistakes (even ones as big and idiotic as yours). Triumph in adversity and so on.
23 (Twenty three) minutes! Surely something of a record to get a case completely obliterated and thrown out? You made several errors, of course, as anyone who suffers such an ignominious besting will do along the way, but appointing a toddler to represent you in court was probably the finest! Old George had him on the ropes in the first ten seconds. If it had been a boxing match (Queensbury rules etc) the referee (JP) would have stopped the bout after the first round!
Tuesday almost made up for Bruno and Fritz, the book launch fiasco (in fact, definitely the book launch fiasco - have also written to the Islington Gazette to ask them to retract previous accusations about my character), and a host of unfair reviews.
But what about you, Rosalind?
Now you see I am irrefutably a fully upstanding member of society, and a successful one (quite), will this change your feelings for me (again)? Will the pendulum swing? Ding-dong out goes King-Kong and all that?
IF, if you need any (any) help whatsoever getting back up from the metaphorical canvas after our court tussle, do (please do) let me know. I can direct you towards a good head-doctor, or (perhaps) offer you a little money (though not too much since Old George's legal fees are somewhat steep - I do wonder where he spends it all). (I don't - he spends at the buffet). But do phone, write or use the email (abulletfromthepast@gmail.com), I will be as generous as I am able to be (and promise not mention ze war!).
Heading to the National Army Museum, Sunday, to look at some military regalia - short notice, I realise, but would you like to come along?
Yours,
Norman.
... justified.
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