I've been receiveing a lot of emails recently...

As I don't get out much, partly due to the gammy leg and partly due to this infernal mobile computer thingumyjig. I've been looking at these ee-letters that a lot of strange people from far-off lands keep sending me (probably invented by a Yorkshireman, only they have ee before every word).

Now far be it for me to criticise, but some of these people must have failed spelling at school, as the majority of these ee-letters have some atrocious manglings of the English language. I say language as children nowadays have no comprehension of grammar or any requirement to use more than a handful of one-syllable grunts, they are too preoccupied with typing on these portable phones to actually talk to anyone.

But I digress.

Without much to occupy me these days I replied to one of these ee-letters, as the chap who was writing to me seemed to be fairly honest and trustworthy, though the content of his ee-letter seemed quite astounding.

The position was that he was trustee, or manager, or some such thing, over a considerable sum of money that appeared to have lain dormant in a bank account in some African country or other. Well, shouldn't you know it but he'd managed to track me down, probably at considerable personal effort, as the sole surviving heir to this as yet unclaimed fortune.

You could imagine my surprise and delight as I replied, knowing that I was soon to come into a fortune, just by sending my personal details. They didn't even need my account details at the Old Sodbury Farmers Union Bank, so I suppose they're going to post me a cheque. That will make my bank manager happy as the war pension isn't what it used to be.

Anyway, I shall copy our correspondence onto this estimable service so that you may all follow my example if similar fortune befalls you...

Your dear servant,
Major Des Aster.