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| - | Call me ungrateful but I was a bit miffed by Redheads matches' tendence to start fires. | View large |
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Dear Sir,
I was going to write to you. Then I wasn't. Now I am.
Not unsurprisingly, what was behind all this indecision was your matches.
Recently I have been finding that when I strike a match, moving the head away from me in the time honoured safe manner, a bit of the match, aflame, heads off in the other direction. Now it does not require a bevy of bright eyed, knobbly-kneed scouts with compasses and maps to figure out that the opposite direction to 'away from me' is towards me.
This was giving me the irrits. I decided to write to you.
I mulled on the letter for a few days and the matches were so-so during this time. Sometimes they attacked, others they were docilely compliant. Lethargy being what it is, my interest in writing subsided. Oh, why bother? I thought.
Yesterday, when lighting the gas to make some of my legendary salmon cakes for dinner the match let rip with a flaming meteor of biblical proportions. This would have been bad enough but the little incendiary landed in my beard.
I guess I should be glad that the smell was worse than the damage. But the smell was bad. Happily back burning was not required and after a brief water-bombing sortie in the form of the kitchen sink tap, order was restored. But the determination to write has become irresistible.
Your outer wrapper says "Redheads - when safety and quality count".
So when does safety and quality count? And why not now?
Yours aflame,
J. Cosmo Newbery.