Dear The Queen

Dear the Queen

I am Lord Eldridge Haversham-Brown of Koquemonmouthshire. We met once at a party in aid of Nelson Mandela. I remember you having one glass too many of that godorful wine and crying about the disolusion of the commonwealth. ``The black man has no right to the Cape!`` you cried - I had to restrain you from throwing vol-au-vents at the diploments if you remember. Good times.

Anyway, I understand my son, Benvolio Haversham-Brown wrote to you with a splendid idea for the Christmas speech not long ago. I trust by now you've had sufficient time to digest the idea and have come to the conclusion that the lad has a point. Sharp as a button he is. Good looking too.

But the poor lad hasn't eaten or drunken since sending you that electro-mail. He's barely even breathed if I'm honest with you (which I always am). Poor bugger just feels in the dark and wants to know how much money you'll give for him to script the entire speech. Did you know he spent eight solid months researching the extract he gave you? He sent an informal copy to the Mirror who described it as `the perfect communicative equilibrium between the elitist upper eschiloms of intellegensia society and talkin' to right proper common slags w/out konfusin dem lololol`.

The guy is rather modestful. He is infact very very very good and will still work for pittance.

So if you could get back to him sooner rather than laters then I for one would appreciate it.

Yours with faithfulness

Lord Eldridge Haversham-Brown