Dear Barrel O’ Parsnips Market Stall holder.
It may come as a surprise to you, yea, it came as quite a surprise to me the true extent of my feelings. Let me set the scene, o sweet barrel-hand. I happened upon you whilst downstairs in the Skem Concourse, it was the smell of your beetroot that first aroused me to the sensibility that you were present. I followed the pungency until I happened upon you proper. There you were, standing o so proud, displaying your wares in what I can only describe as a cavalier manner, with a blatant disregard for my heart.
My heart quickened and a flush came to my countenance as my gaze came to lay on your fungal nail infection. O happy day! Screamed my hormones as my gaze wandered luxuriously to your ‘British bulldog’ Argos chain and your be-sovereigned hands. The stench of stale Stella 20 Rothmans only served to blur the outer limits of my peripheral vision with desire.
O, sweet gent, I turned ‘pon my heel and ran into the cool, sharp fresh air to gain control of my abandon. I placed my hand on my brow, drenched with sweat and Insette hairspray.
All that’s left to say, sir, before I hold my tongue,
‘ows about it luv?
Your enduring servantLady World of Sheds
This novel will take the form of a series of letters betwixt my good pal and fellow whimsical genius, Sherby57 .