George III and the Rise of Voldermort
My dear chap,
I say! If you can get even a fraction of the wit of your letters into your screenplay then I expect to see you thanking your hairdresser at the next doling-out of golden tat in Hollywood. I'm absolutely thrilled that you're putting pen to paper so fruitfully, and I'm equally delighted that you'll let me read the result. I can't wait, send it as soon as you can. When they film it can you and I be in a crowd shot like dear old Alfred used to? You've got to give the fans what they want you know.
Though I can't compare it to sitting on Jerome's commode I have been seeking inspiration where e'er I might find it. Last night saw M and I at the theatre for dear old Noel's Private Lives. Dear dear Alan and lovely lovely Lindsey were quite super, I even rekindled a long-forgotten childhood crush I think I may have had on Ms Duncan. As for Noel's sparkling lines - 'My heart is jagged with sophistication' comes to mind - simply superb.
I like your suggestion about a chap's writing week away from worldly distractions, any thoughts on where? Marrakech perhaps, we might employ some young Moroccan assistants and seek inspiration over a hookah?
My writing has recently been greatly enhanced by certain furniture relocations. M and I spent last weekend moving things around to enable me to use the East Wing's smaller bedroom as a study. With my old oak desk and picture of George III looking down on me I feel greatly inspired. Telling my pals over here about the support of the missus and the luxury of study has reminded me what a lucky boy I am. I know where the first million is going.
Were that not enough in itself M and I are off on an instalment of the Tour in October. Flying in to Milan, there to do a little shopping, we are then going to Venice for a few days and finally up into the mountains around Como and Orta. All told we'll be on the continent of civility for a generous couple of weeks. I almost wonder whether you fancy dinner while we're there, it being so much nearer than my current locale. But I suppose Italy's not like Paris where one can take the train from Waterloo, have lunch, then dash back in time for Eastenders. Any recommendations you might have would be welcome, one likes to hear about chaps that a chap can rely on.
And so once more unto the text dear friend, till I've finished the draft or it's covered with my English blood.
Crescit eundo
Sxx