8th October

Morning Corporal,
Much against popular belief it is now quite obvious to all that there is actually a Mr. Peabody. Seems the dear fellow works away a lot at the foreign office, well the story of Mrs. Peabody’s little display had got that far, aided by an opportune photographer who happened to be taking pictures for Ned the gardener at the time. The old chap was entering some of his prize blooms for the flower show next week and wanted to capture some of them for posterity, well when the shutter clicked all he got was a posterior! The photographer soon had them developed and were posted all over the officers mess. Some ne’er do well decided to post one of the copies to his mate in Whitehall who happened to be on the next desk to Mr. Peabody. Poor fellow got the shock of his life! Although how exactly he recognised her underneath the vicar and covered in dust and debris I’ll be damned if I knew at the time. He was straight on the train to come back and ‘have it out with the Vicar’. Well it developed into a right old farce after that, worthy of a good script if you ask me. He caught the Vicar and Mrs Peabody at another inopportune moment. Imagine the picture if you will, the Vicar running through the gardens at the vicarage cassocks and robes flowing out behind him clutching his bible. Mr. Peabody, one hand on his head to keep his bowler firmly in place, the other clutching tightly his umbrella like a native with a spear and Mrs. Peabody, her housecoat unbuttoned to the waist, her naked ample bosom doing their best to blacken both her eyes as she chased after Mr. Peabody trying to prevent world war three. Carruthers was just running around touching anyone he could get close to and shouting ‘you’re it’! Mrs. Peabody’s daughter was sat on the steps to the conservatory to get the best view whooping with delight and shouting ‘go Dad go’ at the top of her voice.
Well eventually everything died down, Mr Peabody felt sure he could feel his old hernia coming back, the Vicar fell over his cassock and Mrs. Peabody fell over and is now suffering from whiplash and concussion. Not from the fall you understand, from the effect of being battered by her ample naked breasts as she had been running after her husband. Carruthers ran off into the wood and was last heard shouting ‘I’m ready, come and find me’ from the inside of that hollow tree. Well, it turned out in the end that Mr. Peabody was not so concerned about his wife as he was the fact that him and the Vicar had for some years been having a little dalliance with a couple of choir boys and the Vicar had called it all off when he found someone else. Mr. Peabody had taken it all quite badly and had buried himself into his work in London awaiting the return of the Vicars affections. When the photograph turned up on his colleague’s desk it was not his wife that he recognised but the Vicar’s arse. Carruthers has now moved out of the tank and is living in the hollow tree and can be seen most mornings stood on top of it saying, ‘I’m a tree, I’m a tree!’ At least the milkman can now have his engine for his float re-fitted and we can all have our milk delivered again.
Got to go Corporal, cup of char is called for.
Over and out.