A Friendly Roast from an Old School Chum
NO Signs of the Apocalypse today, Instead, I recently received a delightful and humourously FICTIONAL missive from my old chum Vice-Chancellor Leopold Salloum who has taken up a humorous and FICTIONAL alter-ego for this epistle. We are old friends from school and firmed up our friendship sailing out of the Royal Yacht Cub in Hong Kong, engaging in friendly one-upmanship to see who could sink the most Indonesian Pirates in a month without the aid of any military equipment, using only our trusty racing schooners, pen-knives, and good old-fashioned ingenuity.
But that aside, I realized that were this epistle to fall into the wrong hands -- ie the hands of someone who felt that it might be factual -- it would be potentially damaging and slanderous. To prove to one and all that it is merely FICTION and has no basis in reality I shall post it here on my website for the world to see. Notice how he makes a subtle jibe at my German heritage, which, instead of concealing, I have proudly embraced. Clearly this is a JEST.
What do you think of that Leopold?
I know what you think, you think "What a good use of my ENTIRELY FICTIONAL and GOOD-NATURED roast."
It is actually addressed to my official but occasional editor Matthew Lie - Paehlke, so keep that in mind to avoid confusion. I imagine the havoc this email played in Lie-Paehlke's mind until I calmed him down over a cup of heavily soporific tea.
________________________________________________________
Sir,
You tell that bastard Mustard that I'm tired of him taunting me through his vast army of indistinguishable lackeys! Mustard, that globe-trotting criminal and reprobate, is perfectly aware that the Chinese government has put an internet block on his site, and that I can't read the missive that you've contacted me about. Whatever kind of game he's playing, I'm tired of it.
The colonel has a long history of conflict with the Chinese authorities. If he thinks his days as an opium-smuggler have been forgotten, he should think again. What's more, I had a cup of tea with the local governor here, wherein the damnable Mustard's name came up. You tell the "honourable" Col. Von Mustard that the rickshaw driver that he beat nearly to death is now the cousin of a regional Mandarin.
Tell your bastard Colonel that that's another score that I'm keepingtrack of. When I finally track him down, it's another score that I will, by god, settle.
Oh yes, it's all true. I can understand that you'd be surprised, but these few things are just the tip of the iceberg. The man you call Col. Matteus Von Mustard is not the cultured, British gentleman that he seems to be. I've met dozens who (no doubt like you) have been fooled by his charm, his well-tailored clothes and his devilish good looks.
I've been chasing him in three continents. In South America, the Indians speak of "El Diablo del Mustardo," who robs their holy temples. It is also rumoured that he tricked a medicine man into teaching him dark secrets hidden from civilized men. In the wild United States, he's"Black Matt Mustard," a train robber and rum-runner. Here in China they simply call him "jie Shenshang." This is a joke: "jie Shenshang" means both "Mr. Mustard" and "Mr. Scabies."
I can tell you a thousand stories about your Colonel. But the most important thing to know is that he is NOT a British gentleman. He may try to play upon your national pride, and your (creditable) deference to the upper classes. Know this, though: The "Honorable" Col. Matteus Von Mustard is a filthy German.
Knowing that you have some kind of contact with him, I would normally rush to interview you, wherever you are. Unfortunately, there won't be a steamer for another three days. By then, I'm sure the cad will have gone, leaving no traces behind except ruined women and empty bank vaults. However, if you still have any of his writings, I beg you in the name ofKing Richard to forward copies to me. As an expert investigator, I may be able to glean some new evidence as to his intensions and possibly his next destination. It was through just such a clue that I was able to track him to Bombay several years ago. If not for his seventeen Ghurkha bodyguards, I would have been able to arrest him there. In the end, I killed the Ghurkhas, but Mustard escaped in the fracas. I was able to reclaim a chest full of stolen treasures (including the crown jewels of the Pasha ofDar-es-Salaam, and the cursed amulet of Ra-Bak-Nall).
I know very little about you, but I am assuming that you are an honourable man, and have merely been duped by this arch-fiend. If you choose to help me, I will be very grateful. But if you are nothing but a hired thug in Mustard's employ, remember that I am a dangerous man with a long memory. I did not allow those Ghurkhas to stand in my way, and neither will you. I eagerly await delivery of all the missives from Col. Mustard to which you have access. Also, would you do me the favour of telling me what country you're in?
Respectfully, but with a veiled threatening mein,
Det. Leopold Alexander Potts
P.S. If you do have any further contact with Col. Von Mustard, I would be obliged if you would pass on the following message:
Do you remember that little scrap we had on the deck of the rapidly-sinking telegraph ship? The third finger from your left hand was placed, at my request, in a prison cell in London. I'll put you in jail piece-by-piece if I have to.
_________________________________________________________
Oh LEOPOLD, you'll put me in jail piece-by-piece? But why? I can assure you that I have never committed a single crime (under the Queen's Law) as all my gentle readers know full well.
But that aside, I realized that were this epistle to fall into the wrong hands -- ie the hands of someone who felt that it might be factual -- it would be potentially damaging and slanderous. To prove to one and all that it is merely FICTION and has no basis in reality I shall post it here on my website for the world to see. Notice how he makes a subtle jibe at my German heritage, which, instead of concealing, I have proudly embraced. Clearly this is a JEST.
What do you think of that Leopold?
I know what you think, you think "What a good use of my ENTIRELY FICTIONAL and GOOD-NATURED roast."
It is actually addressed to my official but occasional editor Matthew Lie - Paehlke, so keep that in mind to avoid confusion. I imagine the havoc this email played in Lie-Paehlke's mind until I calmed him down over a cup of heavily soporific tea.
________________________________________________________
Sir,
You tell that bastard Mustard that I'm tired of him taunting me through his vast army of indistinguishable lackeys! Mustard, that globe-trotting criminal and reprobate, is perfectly aware that the Chinese government has put an internet block on his site, and that I can't read the missive that you've contacted me about. Whatever kind of game he's playing, I'm tired of it.
The colonel has a long history of conflict with the Chinese authorities. If he thinks his days as an opium-smuggler have been forgotten, he should think again. What's more, I had a cup of tea with the local governor here, wherein the damnable Mustard's name came up. You tell the "honourable" Col. Von Mustard that the rickshaw driver that he beat nearly to death is now the cousin of a regional Mandarin.
Tell your bastard Colonel that that's another score that I'm keepingtrack of. When I finally track him down, it's another score that I will, by god, settle.
Oh yes, it's all true. I can understand that you'd be surprised, but these few things are just the tip of the iceberg. The man you call Col. Matteus Von Mustard is not the cultured, British gentleman that he seems to be. I've met dozens who (no doubt like you) have been fooled by his charm, his well-tailored clothes and his devilish good looks.
I've been chasing him in three continents. In South America, the Indians speak of "El Diablo del Mustardo," who robs their holy temples. It is also rumoured that he tricked a medicine man into teaching him dark secrets hidden from civilized men. In the wild United States, he's"Black Matt Mustard," a train robber and rum-runner. Here in China they simply call him "jie Shenshang." This is a joke: "jie Shenshang" means both "Mr. Mustard" and "Mr. Scabies."
I can tell you a thousand stories about your Colonel. But the most important thing to know is that he is NOT a British gentleman. He may try to play upon your national pride, and your (creditable) deference to the upper classes. Know this, though: The "Honorable" Col. Matteus Von Mustard is a filthy German.
Knowing that you have some kind of contact with him, I would normally rush to interview you, wherever you are. Unfortunately, there won't be a steamer for another three days. By then, I'm sure the cad will have gone, leaving no traces behind except ruined women and empty bank vaults. However, if you still have any of his writings, I beg you in the name ofKing Richard to forward copies to me. As an expert investigator, I may be able to glean some new evidence as to his intensions and possibly his next destination. It was through just such a clue that I was able to track him to Bombay several years ago. If not for his seventeen Ghurkha bodyguards, I would have been able to arrest him there. In the end, I killed the Ghurkhas, but Mustard escaped in the fracas. I was able to reclaim a chest full of stolen treasures (including the crown jewels of the Pasha ofDar-es-Salaam, and the cursed amulet of Ra-Bak-Nall).
I know very little about you, but I am assuming that you are an honourable man, and have merely been duped by this arch-fiend. If you choose to help me, I will be very grateful. But if you are nothing but a hired thug in Mustard's employ, remember that I am a dangerous man with a long memory. I did not allow those Ghurkhas to stand in my way, and neither will you. I eagerly await delivery of all the missives from Col. Mustard to which you have access. Also, would you do me the favour of telling me what country you're in?
Respectfully, but with a veiled threatening mein,
Det. Leopold Alexander Potts
P.S. If you do have any further contact with Col. Von Mustard, I would be obliged if you would pass on the following message:
Do you remember that little scrap we had on the deck of the rapidly-sinking telegraph ship? The third finger from your left hand was placed, at my request, in a prison cell in London. I'll put you in jail piece-by-piece if I have to.
_________________________________________________________
Oh LEOPOLD, you'll put me in jail piece-by-piece? But why? I can assure you that I have never committed a single crime (under the Queen's Law) as all my gentle readers know full well.
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