Telegrams dated between 20th and 26th March 1927, addressed to Mrs Mary Courageous

Telegram dated 20th March 1927, addressed to Mrs Mary Courageous

Dear Mama STOP
Do not send Bunty over here under any circumstances STOP
Dengue fever is rife STOP
If the doctor wishes to send him somewhere hot suggest the Sahara STOP
Please also send over foot balm STOP
Stubbed my toe on a Welshman STOP
Love Jack STOP

Telegram Dated 23rd March 1927, addressed to Mrs Mary Courageous.

To Mama STOP
What a stroke of luck Bunty's doctor being an expert in tropical diseases STOP
Pity he isn't an expert in conditions of the mind or he would surely consider him unfit to travel STOP
I admit that I hadn't heard of Dengue fever in Cairo either STOP
New strain apparently STOP
Will send a case back with Bunty for him to peer over his glasses at STOP

Regards Jack STOP

Telegram dated 26th March 1927 addressed to Mrs Mary Courageous

Dear Mama STOP
Distressed to hear that Bunty no longer coming STOP
For the best, I'm sure STOP
No sign of foot balm STOP
Toe has gone black STOP

Loving son Jack STOP

Letter dated 15 th March 1927 to Mr Andrew Langton

Dear Langers,

The threads of my life seem to be converging at one single point with the sole and express purpose of eliciting exquisite annoyance and unparalleled irritation. You remember how I told you that my Auntie had started becoming uncharacteristically nice to me; well since then, my cretinous cousin Bunty has written, or should I rather say, drawn to me for the first time in fifteen years and my mother has been conspiratorially in cahoots with my Auntie which is never a good sign. I had a suspicion that something was up but I couldn't put my finger on it so up until now, I have been enjoying the hampers Auntie sent to me and revelling in the idiocy of my cousin and the several thousand miles between us.

Then it arrived this morning; the gathering storm, the fly in my ointment, the turd in my bathwater. A letter, but not just any letter. A letter from my mother informing me that Buntie was in ill health and that he will be coming to stay with me. Apparently he is under doctor's orders to leave England and take a trip to the sun. Sounds like a good wheeze. I might pay this doctor a visit myself and see if he can prescribe a trip to the Bahamas for me to recuperate from some fictional tropical disease whilst Bunty comes here. My mother is insisting that he come over as soon as possible as there is a influenza epidemic in England and he might catch it in his weakened state. You've met him. What about me! What if I catch something?

Mother has threatened to reduce my allowance if I resist. Fortunately the new business is taking off rather well and I have now moved into trading and shipping of ancient artefacts. All legal and above board and nothing big you know, just a few small trinkets but they seem to sell. If Bunty comes over, I can say goodbye to all that as he has a mouth the size of a small mine shaft and cannot be trusted to keep confidence. No doubt the whole setup will be blabbed to my mother in a telegram together with perfuse and stomach churning thanks for sending here in the first place. No, I will have to find some cunning way of putting him (and her) off.

I'm meeting up with my tutor tomorrow to review my research so far. Could be a very short meeting.

Hope you and Kitty are well.

All the best.

Jack.

Letter sent on 3rd March 1927 to "Bunty"

Dear Bunty,

Thanks ever so for the letter. I have to admit that your handwriting with it's trademark style similar to a woodlouse wandering through a blob of ink style was hard to read at first but the drawings really helped. I particularly liked the one of the barmaid who has caught your eye. Very life like and no doubt anatomically accurate.

Thank you also for the packet of bacon from your finest butcher in Scunthorpe. No doubt it is a rare treat indeed when fresh but sadly its appeal has somewhat waned after a ten day journey by boat. Nevertheless, I appreciated the sentiment and the swarm of flies which accompanied it.

Regarding the questions you posed in your letter, let me answer them in order:

No.
Absolutely not.
Don't you dare.
Over my dead body or yours.

Please do not feel in anyway obliged to correspond to me in the near future; say the next twenty years.

Lukewarm regards.

Jack.

(Editor's note: It may appear to the uninitiated, that in correspondence, Jack is excessively cruel to Bunty but the two do have history together as later correspondence will reveal. Unfortunately Bunty was not a popular fellow either in public or private life, leading one deeply inebriated journalist to once comment that Bunty "took the C##t out of Scunthorpe when he left." An unpleasant comment, but one the captured the popular mood nonetheless."

Letter Dated 27th February 1927, Cairo

Dear Mama,

This morning, I received a letter from Bunty of all people. Bunty!! It came as something of a surprise, that he knew how to hold the pencil the right way up and slide it along the paper to make a discernible mark, let alone form letters into recognisable words that then miraculously fit them together to create sentences that one could understand. True the niceties were missing like those little words that make sentences flow such as 'Dear Jack' and 'from Bunty'. With the appalling spelling and his unique approach to grammar, the rest was largely guesswork on my part. But what can you expect from a man who elevates idiocy to an art form and has on numerous occasions been called a halfwit by people that don't know him and such a term described as overly generous by those who do him. To call Bunty a halfwit, would be to credit him with having any wit at all, which clearly he hasn't.

I know he is my cousin and your nephew and as such, you are bound by family and duty to have some affection for him but if Bunty starts to write to me for the first time in fifteen years, prattling on about his pet goat and a girl from the village who has the misfortune to catch his eye, and Aunty continues to send suspiciously unsolicited parcels, then something is clearly up. Aunty never does anything without you and Papa claims to know nothing, which is a sure fire indication that whatever it is must have pretty dire consequences for me. What's going on? What are you both cooking up?

Looking forward to a speedy and frank response.

Your loving and patiently tolerant son,

Jack.

Letter to Mr Andrew Langton from Cairo dated 20 February 1927

Dear Langers,

How are you old chum. How's the old homestead? How's that wonderful girl of yours? Wish I could find one as sporting as her. There aren't many women who would follow a chap round the world and settle down with him in the middle of the African jungle. Of course having a large ranch, pots of money and a domestic entourage that the Prince of Wales would be proud of must have eased the upheaval I shouldn't wonder.

Still, I'm now settled down myself in my new caper. Papa has been more than extraordinarily generous with my allowance in the hope that I will get my head down and end my studies with some sort of degree or doctorate thingy. I've found a nice shack to bed down in. I say shack, it's actually more like living quarters with a small warehouse. Actually, I say small warehouse, it's more like a Hugh warehouse with a camp bed on the upper level; the sort of place a chap could set up a small venture and make a tidy profit into the bargain. Egyptian trinkets and souvenirs would go down a bomb in London don't you think? Don't let on to Papa though or he'll slash my allowance and that would be a real bore. He seems to be obsessed with the idea that I will just fritter my time and money away on gambling and drink rather than completing my studies. I've told him on many an occasion that you can't rush archeology and that it's not unusual for studies to take years. He said that if I wasn't careful my thesis would become an archeological artefact. Trouble is, he wants to see the fruits of my labour at the end of the summer so I have actually got to knuckle down and actually produce something. He's also in contact with my tutor which is not good news.

Anyway, I hope everything's working out for you. Why don't you both come up and visit me. It's not quite as palatial as your place but it's quite spacious so I'm sure but I can sort something out for you.

All the best,

Jack.

Letter dated 16 February 1927, Cairo

Dear Papa,

Thank you for the letter and the rather generous package that accompanied it. The cigars were welcome and the large bottle of Islay Single malt was very welcome. The evening tipples here are desperately difficult to find and rougher than a goat's tongue, though it has to be said, the goats quite like it.

You may rest assured now, that I have found more suitable lodgings in which to conduct my studies. The place in question has its own front door and by that I don't mean a doorway that I do not share with anyone else, although that is certainly the case. I mean a proper front door with wood, handles and even a working lock. This is something of s relief after my last place where I had to take all my belongings with me whenever I went out, even to buy some bread. On one occasion, I discovered that in my absence, someone had stolen my room. Not physically of course. That would have been a very witless and pointless crime to attempt. No, some chap, had been walking past, saw the place was empty and thought, I'll have that. It was only went I brought round the landlord that he decided to leave. Not surprising really when you consider that the landlord looks like King Kong's bigger and rather less attractive brother.

Tomorrow, I will be meeting my tutor at the museum, so I hope to be able to start my studies and get down to some hard work which is of course why you are giving me surcharge hefty allowance; so that I don't have to support myself with supplementary income. In fact I'll be working so hard, I doubt I will even set foot outside my rooms on most evenings.

Hope everyone is alright at home. Auntie for some strange reason has sent me a couple of bottles of wine to follow the package she sent a week ago. You don't know what the old girl's up to do you? She doesn't converse with me for ten years whilst I live only a half a mile away and then as soon as I leave the country, she showers me with letters and gifts. I know you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth but what if the crazy old nag looks shifty, has huge buck teeth and looks about to bite? Surely you would regard it with deep suspicion wouldn't you. Can you see if you can charm Mama into spilling the beans and telling you what's going on. The two of them are always in it together.

Anyway, must dash, all the best Papa. Write soon.

Your loving son Jack.

Letter Dated 10th February 1927, Cairo

Dear Mama,

I have finally arrived. The journey was relatively uneventful by air and sea. Only when it came to land did problems arise. Even your patented peppermint and lemon scented oil could not blot out the all pervading, full nasal assault that is camel aroma. It is difficult to put into words the full extent of the fetid pungency which hit me like a wall when we reached our transport to the city. Harder still was to ascertain which part of the animal, the smell was emanating from. What I had first taken to be hideous halitosis that could have been used as a substitute for chloroform, was in fact a general aura that seeped through every crack, crevice and pore. To add to the experience, was a temperament that was even riper than the creatures' smell. They spat, sneezed and bit their way through the journey but I suppose this was small wonder as I would hate to consider what ill feelings I would harbour if I discovered from birth that I smelt like a cross between a freshly laid cow pat and the sweaty matted armpits of a Yak. I have and do continue to ask myself why if they look and smell so bad, they are the animal of choice in these parts. Certainly they are hardy beasts against the scorching heat of the day and the sand but horses do manage to also survive here so I can only assume that a camel steak tastes sublime, though I severely doubt it. Nothing that bad can taste that good.

Lodgings are a little basic but will suffice until I can find a permanent base from which to plan my field trips with an en suite bed and door. A local shopkeeper claims to be a landlord of some properties nearby so I will ask if I can see them tomorrow.

Please thank Auntie for her letter. I look forward to receiving the hamper soon, even though it is uncharacteristically generous of her. I've no doubt that there is an ulterior motive for this and that I will pay for it later but nevertheless, I shall enjoy the scotch and tinned ham whilst I wait.

I hope the old man is well.

All my love.

Jack.

P.S - Two hampers are better than one.