[ WP ] You sign a letter `` Shamefully yours , ''

Dear Aberforth Constabulary, 
 It is with deep regret that I pen this letter regarding the defaced fountain advertised in the 30th January edition of the Aberforth Auditor. 
 While I can not claim absolute certainty of my role in the events of the evening of 28th January, the assorted events that led to the unusual rearrangement of the affixed amoretto proceeded as follows: 
 The evening began, as most of my workaday evenings begin, with a celebratory nip from the local pie and pig shop. After my usual celebration de vivre, and the four-to-seven hour devotional ceremony in service to another successful day of holding up the Fourth and Brownford Avenue telephone stand, I began to make my way home. 
 It was upon the third turn of my parade that I was most surprised to discover that I had lefted when I should have righted, and so found myself at the bottom of Querulous Henry ’ s south hayfield. It is the opinion of this citizen that Mssr. Henry has been unfortunately lax in his fence maintenance of late, as I was able to gambol directly through the barrier erected at the southeast corner with scarcely a protest from that noble edifice. 
 I must confess I am not entirely aware how I made it from the hillock at the north end of that field to the courtyard of the adjoining grange, but I suspect it may be un serre de coeur, since, as you may be aware, I had a longstanding romance with the lady of that household. ( One can not stop love from doing what it must, can one? ) In any case, I ran into my lady love, her rippling locks glinting roan and auburn in the moonlight. What a sight, gentlemen! Her liquid brown eyes shining, her tender lips quivering, the faint smell of alfalfa leather lingering in the air. So moved, I recited to my lady the tenderest poetry of my heart, and as we began to make plans to our romantic escape, I have a dim recollection of confrontation with that lady ’ s gentleman. Imagine my surprise when, in our confrontation, I found myself leaning not against my lady love, but a grass chewing nag of the lowest order. 
 I first became aware of the fountain as I was making my exit on the aforementioned shameful nag. It is my belief that the fountain insulted my recently-blessed sister, and most dishonorably suggested the very idea that my soon-to-be-nephew is not a direct gift from god, as repeatedly and verifiably assured by my dearest sister, but indeed a product of some particularly lewd acts I will not recollect here. My dear sirs, I am nothing if not a loyal family man, and was most enraged by the mere suggestion of impropriety. 
 As you well know, my family has a long tradition of civic engagement in our fair hamlet: my father was a true champion of the motor way we all now enjoy, going as far as clearing the existing courthouse with his own automobile in ’ 67, and my grandfather personally kept our local maison publique afloat during the disastrous financial years post war. It is, I believe, in this tradition that I sought to make some improvements to our local fountain, including, as you so noted, stoppering the little rogue ’ s font of lies, and improving the pipework in the style of our Belgian friends. The plea for civility to my fellow neighbors, noted in the Auditor as “ **** off, you wanker **** as a **** ******, ” was indeed not written in oil paint, but an inspired concoction of my own blending. A 50/50 mix of cold water and straight lye should take it off without difficulty. 
 Shamefully Yours, 

