Joy of the day one and all.

 Sink Me! If it ain't a place dedicated to friends past and present.

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Welcome one and all.

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“Close friend of The Society, The Dauphin d’Alfonse, and his alleged manservant Kurt Battenberg, pictured here in the “Tarkhankout Gazette and Herald” on the occasion of their controversial claim to have scaled of the fearful heights above the plains of Chatyrlyk, by tea-time a week last Tuesday. An exhausted Dauphin assured sceptics - “Mais non! Eet looks nothing like ze Lake District. Sacre Bleu! Est ce vous regardez les daffodils? Non! Vive la Republique!” The taciturn Battenburg refused to be drawn on the subject, but was overheard by one reporter to mutter - “Gott in Himmel Alfonse, wo ist die Kendal minten caken?”

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"Lord Shuteye's former stable groom, Private Function, of the 2nd Rotherham Militia, seen here in happier days before his recent arrest for public lunacy. A nod and a wink to The Lord Advocate should see him right though. Good luck old chap!"

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Message from Private Function

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Sirs
 
Here in the Workers Cottages I enjoy an exalted status, largely as the only fellow in the history of the Regiment to have survived a flogging for the theft of a thimbletumbler of port. I am furthermore respected among  the bootblacks and sculleryjennies for my ability to read, and it is a  rare thursday that fails to end with my delivering aloud a chapter from one of Lord Shuteye's stories in The Mayfair Magazine.
 
It was on such an evening that Muntjack, a Veterinary's Waterboiler from a fallen family and a lad easily excited , became so  fixated with Shuteye's narrative that he lapsed into a state of dropsy unalleviated by the administering of Sage Tea, Toast water  or the continually singing  prescence at his bedside of Mr Ignatious Pop the Detroit Baritone and his Musical Stooges.
 
I fear we may be nearing a moral quandry: if as seems sure the fellow is Lost to Us, then would we be justified in delivering him to the Almighty by means of a pillow across the face, or would Burial Alive be a more soldierly fate  and a surer path to that version of  Everlasting Peace afforded the lower classes in the Life To Come?   
 
I ask for the guidance and prayers of those of you have reached the end of this missive, and implore you  to employ  darning needles to keep the eyelids apart when reading  Lord Shuteyes latest installment in The Mayfair Magazine
 
I remain, Sirs
Private Function.