C: Diary Three

Dear Diary,

How very kind of the authorities. They knew that I needed a change of
scenery and have brought me most delightfully to the Isle of Wight. How
appropriate! It was here that Queen Victoria came to mourn the loss of
her beloved Albert (he had that male thing named after him) - and here
am I to spend my hols. What a whizz!

Sea air is splendid but my frequent suggestions of walks for me and the
guys have so far met only with an odd look from the governor chappie.
It'd do us all a lot of good if we could go for a wander up to
Blackgang Chine and see the different coloured sands.

Wozza was very unhappy that I was to go on this little jaunt but he got
me to write for him to one of his old colleagues who's here - a very
nice gentleman who goes by the name of Big Eric - who says he's here to
'mind' me and that I'm not to go with anyone else. It all seems a bit
odd to me but Big Eric is quite jolly and keeps referring to a 'nice
little bit of tail'. Still, he's got some lads to do my bits and pieces
for me and all seems tickety-boo. What fun!

Seems there's some to-do about my efforts for the Kurds. Rum do that.
All that banner waving I did for those chappies. Of course I am a touch
dyslexic when it comes to numbers - especially noughts I find - but I'm
sure they all had enough cash for some shepherd's pie and 'poo so what
more could they want? Beats me. You try to do good in this world and
all it gives you is trouble.

My book is going very well. I'm up to the bit now where I got four 1sts
from Oxford and then Cambridge gave me two more. It was all terribly
sweet of them as I also coxed three rowing crews, rowed in two more,
played rugby, cricket, hockey, netball and squash, ran the four minute
mile in three minutes and less, wrote all those comedy shows that gave
careers to those Monty Snake people, won every debate in the Union and
did some super stuff for the Conservative Party. Not much, you may say,
but I also had time for the ladies - and what a time it was!
Irresistable they said about me. Or that was what it sounded
like.

Feel v. sorry for James. A flaming Ferrari, he was called, and now they
treat him like a lumpy Lada. It's just not fair. He made those chaps
loads of money and now he's getting punished for it. There's no
gratitude in this world. Still, he says he's going to write a book and
I've given him the name of this awfully clever chappie you just talk to
for a couple of hours and he does all the rest. It's quite hard work
and you have to wait ages to get the money but it does seem to arrive
in the end.

Mary has written. She says that there is honey still for tea so that's
a jolly whizz - can't think what she's referring to though.

Better go now as Big Eric says he's putting on a party for me. I asked
if there would be pie and 'poo but he just winked and said that would
be me who had that. I haven't got any so I don't know what the
chappie's on about.

All the best,
Big Jeffrey.