Dear Reader,

I come to you from the Information Nexus, where I have just cut the ribbon to open the Jade Dragon Short Loan & DVD Mausoleum.

As I glide back to my rooms, I am joined by Dr Jung, dear Sigismund’s successor.

He seems a little agitated.

‘Are you having those dreadful dreams again, dear Karl?’, I say. ‘Is it the archetype with the beard and the bosoms?’

‘But haven’t you heard?’, says Karl, panting a little as he hurries to keep up with me.

‘I have heard many, many things, dear Karl’, I say, gnomically.

‘There is terrible news!’, he cries. ‘Ser Basil has just realized that the 300-million pound Asafetida Lovage Student Experience Ski Resort with accompanying All-Weather Lid* must be paid for.  The creditors are circling like sharks! The FBI have impounded Ser Basil’s helicopter and are swarming all over his vineyard! Someone called Chuck has been wearing a wire!’

‘How very confusing’, I say, calmly.

‘Student fees are to be doubled, and there will be a 150% increase in the cost of all burgers from the Happy Taizhou Happy Burger Catering Corps! But even that will not do! No! No!’

‘No?’, I say, exuding a Zen-like serenity.

‘No!’, shrieks Karl.

The bushes by the piranha pond rustle ominously.

‘Taizhou is to be merged with Astana campus! Recruitment for Runeology is to cease forthwith! 200 jobs will be lost! All redundancies are to be entirely voluntary! Voluntary, I tell you!’

At this, something whirrs by my ear. Poor, dear Karl clutches his chest, gasps, and topples into the piranha pond.

Dear Reader. I must speak to Ser Basil directly.


* Formerly Arts Faculty


10 thoughts on “Things Fall Apart

  1. omg. the waters are clearly murky. I suggest calling in the Jules Rimet deobfuscation squad (their Gold Service is a little pricey, however). M Rimet was last heard of sitting in a Bedouin tent getting rather spaced out puffing on a hoojah (not to be confused with a hookah, which is the official Hampstead version). He can be contacted via the Fallujah branch of the Bedouin WI. Possibly.Their rock cakes are indescribable, though.

    1. Because I am naive, my dear, and like to keep abreast of affaires courantes, I made the mistake of googling Ms Slattern, and have been been breathing into a brown paper bag ever since. Should Ms Slattern apply, I will be looking at her references very carefully indeed.

      1. It is always a mistake to Google anyone. I was similarly taken aback when I Googled my own name. Not exactly a pillar of the community shall we say?

      2. I see you are a guitar, or a BB King song. I always suspected as much. Whereas I appear to be someone who died in Kansas City in 1870. The internet never lies, dear Lucille.

  2. I show up between pens (I am duly flattered) and Scrabble (not so much).

    I am confident you have a plan, Dr. Lamb, and will be able to stitch things together before classes resume in the fall.

    1. As ever, dear Nib, I am moved by your confidence in my stitching ability. I have just placed an order with you for a shiny new narrative de-tanglification device – I do hope it arrives in time before this autumn term of which you speak.

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