Dear Drew [old uni/house mate]

... My stupid rechargeable lantern went flat after that sentence, and it is now the next night, Tuesday 10th July if I'm not mistaken, which I probably am. A freezing cold night it is too; cold enough for my penis to shrink to a mere 6 inches when I jumped into the mighty Dunham River after my evening jog. That's 6 inches across, in case you were wondering, which you probably were you seedy cunt. Honestly Drew, grow up and get your mind out of the gutter.

All this talk of penises has made me lose my train of thought, which was a narrow-guage, two-carriage, rickety steam train of thought anyway, so it's no great loss.

What would be a great loss, would be if you and I were not to meet when I am next in Perth - I believe between the 20th and 29th of this good month. Unfortunately Skywest do not fly people around according to when the passenger "believes" he is travelling, so I will need to somehow confirm those dates. No easy feat when your only form of communication is a good loud yell. I suppose I could just yell out my message and ask that anyone who hears it, can they please yell it on in turn, but it would no doubt lead to a horrible Chinese-whispers-style balls-up, where my message "When am I flying back to Perth?" would become something like "Dead-eye driving, smack the smurf" or "Jedi flying, slack the berth" or, worse still, "Cup of tea please. Milk and two sugars. Oh, and a milk arrowroot". Can you imagine the embarrasment? I only take one sugar!...