You have a point there, BWL...(rather like the one which I suspect may be found at the apogee of your skull, but I digress). Yes, I am aware that Cro-Magnon man was quite advanced and Neanderthals have a reputation for having been shorter and more primitive. I was being rhetorical. If you prefer to be referred to as a slack-jawed Neanderthal, I will be most happy to amend my previous statement.

Now, sir, I will have you know that it is quite inconceivable that a Rutledge, any Rutledge, would be in "total ignorance of human evolution". You are engaging in hyperbole and casting aspersions on a fine family, and were you within range I would be tempted to smack your silly face for it. However, this is the Internet, I must remember, a place which knows little decorum or respect for tradition.

As for "neurotic, agoraphobic, undersexed spinsters who spend their entire lives in prisons of their own making"...well, my goodness, I believe you have described half the cat owners in Twillingsgate, most of whom I am rather well acquainted with through my work protecting animals! Devastating description, sir. I am amused and impressed at your sagacity on this matter. You err in possibly one respect...I think these ladies are generally not exactly undersexed but rather overinhibitied or simply quite unattractive. That doesn't stop them from devouring trashy romance novels or poetry and engaging in lurid fantasy and gossip, I assure you.

However, I am not one of them. I have at least 2 decades ahead of me before anyone could accuse me of spinsterhood, and I expect I shall find a suitable spouse sometime in that period...though, God knows, they aren't easy to find! Most of the men around here are spineless degenerates and pompous fools.

Winston has loads of spine, but he's a moral degenerate in any case, a libertine with the compassion of a moray eel. As for Mr Buggeroll, he is lower than a snake. You might be interested to know that he has brought a countersuit against Winston, as have the Hoarsbottoms. It's a tremendous legal fiasco, and is enriching the lawyers of Twillingsgate beyond their wildest dreams. I did manage to rescue that wretched sheep, Millie, with the unexpected aid of a completely mad Frenchwoman who regards it as a rival in her longstanding affaire with Buggeroll. As I said, she is clearly mad. She also hates me, that is obvious, but she had reason to get the sheep clear of Buggeroll and so did I, so there you are. The sheep is now safely ensconced with a local farmer of good character in a secret location. Buggeroll has been tearing madly around looking for it, but to no avail. Apparently no other sheep will do (except for a brief encounter)! The man is as dotty as his French mistress, I believe. As much as she hates me, it is nothing to her hatred for Winston, and I seriously think she intends to kill him. Winston pooh-poohs the whole thing, saying, "She fancies me. All French women fancy me, you know."

If I were him, I would be very careful indeed. That woman has a look in the back of her eyes that bodes ill for the unwary.

Now why am I telling you all this? Heaven knows. That's the Internet for you, isn't it? One just gets caught up in thinking out loud, and before you know it...

I think I had better sign off.

Adieu.

* PR