A dear little Auto-da Fe

My adored godfather has taken a very stern line about the colds which we took to the Renaissance Society of America in Cambridge and which have remained with us despite visits to the chinese doctor and drinking decoctions of alder-cones and staying in bed a very great deal. My godfather’s diagnosis (which a moment’s reflection will cause any thinking person to endorse) is that any cold which lasts a fortnight is clearly caused by the operations of hostile magic. The environs of Kuala Lumpur abound in malign bomoh for those who go in for that sort of thing. The Malaysian Twisby not only has vast stretches of time on its hands but is of a demonstrably malevolent disposition (as opposed to its merely sad Irish cousin who keeps putting notices of its own demise in the provincial papers) and therefore it is perfectly clear who is to blame. What should compel the admiration of all is my godfather’s deciseiveness in these circumstances. He found time between fashion-shows and private views for a dear little Auto-da Fe so that is the last we will be hearing from the Malaysian Twisby. And, hopefully, from the lingering and protean colds.
Talking of expressions of faith as manifested in town squares, I am feeling myself a victim of anti-Iberian prejudice: I was attempting to explain my new book (which is essentially about angels with shooters) to my oldest friend the Armigerous Art Historian and he said “Yes, dear, one of your books proving that the Inquisition was a force for progress and understanding, we’ve all heard it already.”

One Response to “A dear little Auto-da Fe”

  1. canadian professor Says:

    Dr. No, who comes, after all, from the north contree….

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