Philip

The unctuous snuffurbling is annoying me.

I respect those who really feel grief at his loss; but I cannot share or understand their grief. What's he to them? Why?

He lived a life he loved, cared nothing about what others thought of him, and loved to kill animals for fun. I wonder how sporting he finds that game today.

Mum saw him in the back of a car driving through Devizes once. 'He gave me the eye,' she said, with the smiling confidence of a very pretty woman.

'Was he good looking?' Someone asked her.

'God! No!' She laughed.

Despite considering him as plain as a stick, she will be sorry to hear this news, and appalled that I simply do not care at all.