Letters from the Viscomte (Birthday)

Your Most Obnoxious and Delayed
The Countess Deborrah De Nver

Memories and pratfalls I send you on this most verklempt November Twenty-Ninth day of our Lord, Two-Thousand-Ten. May this message find you Polishe but Western.

I can scarce believe how fortunate we are to continue enjoying the antics of your brother in his surprising survival. I am never more astonished by the wizardry of both modern medicine and alcohol.

Why it was only last month at the Embassy that I found myself at one point remarking upon your brothers apparant vigor, original teeth and vibrant complexion. I realized to my horror, upon closer inspection, that wax had shelaqued his face from an overhead candelabra - while he was dozing.
I did however take it upon myself, and the good name of our family dear cousin, to discreetly pop cocktail straws into his nostrils to keep him from snoring. Thus saving him any undue embarrassment.

Toodle-ti-doo, and what outrageous nonsense do you expect from our dear on his fiftieth birthday ? More of the dreaded Piss-Pot-Poker ? Wench-Wrestling-Bingo ? Titti-Top-Tennis ?

By the by, what warm yet fragrant memories we share of our Count and his itchy-eyed flatulence, good-natured drooling and mind-bending simplicity. A delightful creature.

We look forward to toasting the old koot ! A hefer shall be halved, a chicken shall be slaught and a pig shall be beat ! Nothing to good for our dear on his most celebrated of days.

Pray your virtue remains intact and that your teeth will be found, I bid you a fond farewell.

Viscomte Lary von Stael
Landgrave of This & That