muss of potage

i seem to have hit on a rather good wheeze over the mail accusing me o selling off the family silver n mutterin threars agin my gals.

• as i say, frenz of san luca rollup n hope to buy some memento of maman
• i gesture to the printout edangling inna wind
• they blanch n retreat
• i giver them pen n papier n urge them to go round the house noting down every item that the plaintiff email might be referring to. i tell them it is a jolly comp n that their answers will be mailed to my bro for matking n scoring for good guessweor. i do not hold out hope of my bro relenting and allowing them to buy a memento

easel knievel: i have no idea where the the laura knight beast iws. i swear, 24.7 bugging of the landline but not one whisper that sandra Q was meant to get it. not onr breath wot to do with maman's artmaterials. nothingh was "all on paper", even my mum's dictation of who ghot what of the jewels was only on the paper of my notebook as i took interminable dictation. as 1 dinner guestr quotheded, "thank god \youre honest n organised about all or youd be #1 suspect over where n what yer mums joolry adds up to.' sovaro, lord copper. 

more mails to folkllow. already 56he family mailvine is shuddering under the cautions n protests. i send them fotos of the fallen prank tank n conjure up images of the wicked in Oz lying under the meteor crater, red shoesie =s protruding. for which read my red velveteen jool box. hey ho. only in thr movies.