Richard Branson?

This week’s mis-delivered mail is a bit of a puzzler. It comes on airmail stationery, but the addresses are obscured by dozens of foreign stamps ranging from Tanganyika to Macedonia. The author of the letter claims to be the Richard Branson, but I imagine that anyone named Richard Branson assumes that they are indeed the Richard Branson.

Fair enough.

On with the letter…

Dear Fifth Grade Class of Cummerbund School for Unsettling Youth,

Thank you so much for all of your letters. I wish I could answer each and every one individually. Unfortunately, being a world-reknowned expert on all things means always learning and exploring. Busy, busy, busy! At this very moment I am studying arctic wildlife and running from a polar bear. (Please excuse the shaky writing. One of my snowshoes is loose.)

However, because you’re a relatively select class of the Cummerbund School for Unsettling Youth, I can give a quick answer to at least one question from each student who wrote. To begin:

To Geraldine Monkswapper: Yes, moonbeams have market value. It’s based on a combination of weight, brilliance, and tone. The value is set and updated daily by a government office in Bern, Switzerland.

To Tauxeth O’Malley: No, you are correct–despite what the rest say. There is something behind you. Always. Always

Loved frogurt.

To Yasmine Tea: “Frogurt”, as a portmanteau of “frozen” and “yogurt”, was first coined by Kublai Khan in the 13th century. “Frogurt”, as a regional expletive, was first recorded by Sir Stanley Livingston (no relation) on the television programme “The Only Way Is Essex” in 2010. It is also the name of a minor character in “Jersey Shore”. Many scholars still debate which came first.

To Paul “Watering Can” Ryan: In summary… voodoo, twelve and thirteen, only when it rains, Evelyn Waugh, and yes… but not for the reasons most people think.

To Tyrell Waitingsworth: It is my expert opinion that what you are describing is a mild rash. Try a little hydrocortizone and mint. If that doesn’t work, burn it off.

To Alice [no last name]: My eyes are indeed blue on Monday, green on Tuesday, hazel on Wednesday, brown on Thursday, near black on Friday, and pretty much bloodshot on the weekends. I take some comfort in knowing I am not alone with this condition. Thank you for sharing.

To Paul “Garden Shed” Ryan: As I mentioned to your brother, Watering Can, the answer is yes, but not for the reasons most suppose. I wish I could go into further detail, but that would involve revealing the involvement of three recent US presidents, the US Supreme Court, and last year’s Grammy winner for Best Male Artist. I cannot, in good conscience, reveal those identities or their involvement.

Casts no reflection.

To Rosalita Monster: I have it on good authority that the reason why David Walliams has no reflection in a mirror is not because he’s a vampire. It’s just that his reflection is very, very, very shy.

To Morganna B. Apiary: Thank you. My research has revealed some interesting melittological connections between the ancient Minoans and the YMCA. I believe that, with further study, we can solidify the connection of their practice of beekeeping through their bookkeeping. 

To Frankie Helpmybottomisonfire: The grass is always greener over the septic tank. If you are truly curious as to why, use a shovel.

Thank you very much for this opportunity to respond to you all, and thank you to your teacher, Mrs. “Smith” [sic], for arranging this correspondence. I wish I could stay and write more, but I see a post box ahead and that polar bear is gaining on me.

Sincerely yours,
The Richard Branson


And it’s Friday, at last. Lots to do today. Catching up, and preparing for the weekend.