So, having found a raw nerve, let's apply the salt:
My Dear Mrs Chile,
Jolly decent of you to be so concerned about me, I must say.
I have discovered that my maid, the deceiving trollop, is really sixteen. When I employed her I was lead to believe that she was only fourteen. A totally untrustworthy little tart. There I was, banging away at her privates, thinking I was in the pristine pastures of a fourteen year old and the little bitch was really sixteen. God, she is so deceitful! I bet her screaming and yelling was all a 'put on' too.
Mind you she put up a damned good fight before I finally got her roped to the bed.
My good Mrs Chile, kindly explain what you mean about me shitting on my maid. I can see no pleasure in that and it would require a much longer sentence than you outline. No Mrs Chile, I was only doing what is natural for a man to do, inserting his authority upon a disrespectful and ungrateful little whore. The sooner she learns that that is her place in life the easier it will be for her. She is my employee and she shall serve me as I see fit. I'll not have ladedah do-gooders telling me otherwise.
It is the law of the jungle. Surely you must be familiar with that?
Now, about this money. I was lead to believe that there was a fund put aside for these contingencies, 5% I believe. What has happened to that?
Wilberforce. (No 'Willy' here, he's cooling to the woman.)