Then progress was swift.The hideous envelope (windowed, dun-coloured, and spitefully undersized) came by second-class post, in late June. It contained by far the longest literary effort that Des had ever seen from his uncle’s pen (MILK and TOILITPAPER and TUBASKO – this was the kind of thing he was used to). Lionel’s letter was in block capitals and unpunctuated, like a telegram without the stops. Des and Dawn took another look at it on the bus on the way to Queen Anne’s: DES BE AT NORF GATE ON SATDEE JULY 11 TWELVEFIRTY BRING ME DRIVE-IN LISENSE ME BIRF STATIFICAT ME BLAK SELL FONE AND ME CUMPEW UH [the last four words were crossed out] AND THE DOGS PEDDYGREES BE THERE SO NO MINNIE CABIN FOR YOU THAT SATDEE TELL SIMFEA ALRIGHT LIONEL‘Jesus,’ said Des. ‘He’s winding me up. Simfea! Why didn’t he sign it Loyonoo?’‘He’s taking the piss. Simfea.’‘Simfea. You know Simfea’s mum and – Christ, you know Cynthia’s mum and dad both call her Simfea? Amazing, that.
What do You think about Lionel Asbo: State Of England?
