The Carbon Copy

In this Party edition, there is something for everyone concerned: for Italy, for Bletchley Park and for Germany.

At Betchy Garden

On a day in which the sun rose over England, the Hun wrote out a note which was to be sent on to two recipients. The original was for Mädel, and a carbon copy was to be dropped off for Phosphorus at Bletchley Park. This is what the note said:

Italy’s Prince of Wales

At The Party I have informed Italy – as you instructed me – not to hang on waiting for the next instalment of EU recovery fund while assuming they are sitting in a barrel of iron (you said in una botte di ferro), but to get the Hell out of Babylon. Your office at the English Chancellery has been referred to as the point of contact should the Italians accept your better advice. As postman at the Ænglisc Rīce Chancellery I will inform you immediately if any message arrives in an official capacity from Italy.

At Betchy Garden Alexandra and I picked up and decoded part of a radio message sent from Bletchley Park to Rome. It read:

On a hilltop in Italy – crackle (interference) – we assembled young people – from all over the world – (crackle, word unclear) to bring you this message: crackle – it’s the real thing! – crackle – I’d like to buy the world a home – and furnish it with – crackle ….

As you and I both know, he promised to traffic your work over to Italy, and I assured the Italians they can write him off as a complete failure who tried selling your work. So if they want to shroud themselves in the twelve stars of the EU waiting for the next batch of fake money from their papa’ in the Central Bank of Frankfurt, they know that they can forget you and keep their dear Phosphorus and his queen who they clung to in vain.

Ce Sont Des Salauds

I let them know that 10 Downing Street won’t hand over your work to anyone, no matter what promises they made, that those who called you a liar won’t ever get anywhere near you. I shut the door from within and locked it, leaving them out in the garden to rot! Just as you wanted me to do. Those perverts don’t have any right to peep into your room, after all you chose me your Hun to enter your room and be with you, and as a good Hun I locked them out and left them to their own devices at the compost heap where they can decompose.

I sent them this link too to make clear who they are dealing with.

My Sister Angela

Then I posted a letter to Germany at The Party and let them know what they inherited in place of my dear sister Hun. I explained it was their own fault, they chose to go that way, and if they ever wanted to contact her, they’d need to come to brother Hun instead and enquire about Alexandra, our expert on holocaust and karfreitag, and that they had better be bearing gold bars, because she owes me a decent sum of gold for the Exorcism I’ve been helping her out in. I didn’t do this for nothing, she agreed and said: do the work first and I’ll pay you later. A tear ran down Angela's cheek when I told her this.

We also made an agreement that her next work needs to be on contract and paid for in advance, in gold, and not one ounce less than she sees fit. Phosphorus had accused my family of committing mass murder all over Europe; well if they did, I never saw anything of it, and from history books I was given to understand that holocaust never came without hoarding gold. But the real Gold is what the Germans flung away when they tried exchanging my sister Hun for a heap of phosphorescent glitter.

She carried away the spiritual church calendar from a church in Valjevo and knows when it’s time to work for a national Church. It is as you said of them in relation to Angela: They flung away the Gold and took the wood instead and went and crucified themselves with it! But as Angela told us, she isn’t giving that calendar back, it’s hers and she uses it. They broke their word and submitted to Italy instead, and that’s too bad! Our Fair Lady of the English Folk is different, she does not surrender and intends keeping Her word.