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Isabella is a little put out:

(I reattached her photo to the email just in case the current correspondent hasn't seen it. I say 'current' because the style and length is out of character for the original Umba. As a 'difficult' correspondent I think I have been farmed out to the debt collectors.)


My Dear Umba,

I am so sorry to hear about the death of your father. For some reason I thought he was already dead. Silly me.

I guess this grief would account for the most passionless letter I have ever had the misfortune to receive. Even correspondence from the tax office has more romance.

You call yourself 'my man'. My man, when I find him will be passionate and compassionate. He will say kind and loving things to me. He will hold me and want me with him. He will be a sexual tiger and a sensual cat.

Are you really my man? All you talk of is money.

Yes, I can help you invest your money. I have good contacts with a company that is making DIY cardboard coffins for the Iraqi domestic market. By all accounts it is going to make a real killing. We will need to get in soon.

But more of that later.

Please tell me of your true intentions.

Yours most puzzled,

Isabella.


And no more was heard from Mr Umba.

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