A terribly agitated Mr. Boddington

asked his Nephew to repeat the idea in discussion. Surely his Nephew lost some marbles on the walk to Sireunse's lobby? And where is that cheeky waiter? Another gin and tonic to dull the pain rambling up his temples. Now perk your ears up boyo! Correspondence is meant only for the post. You must be mad to think anyone would send an invitation through a...a... a computer. His Nephew, now looking quite composed in a rather handsome set of Milanese loafers, marched on with the strategy. Something about the new world, lost time and all the social swans in Moscow were doing it. Good grief thought Mr. Boddington, what will the postmasters do? Off you go Nephew. Amuse me, if you must. And in one year to the minute, we shall meet back in this very lobby for the victor to buy the other a round.

And that is how Mr. Boddington's Nephew was born. Making the charming aesthetic of Mr. Boddington's Studio accessible to all the itsy bitsy gigabytes. For those who still adore paper, do continue sending old world correspondence. And for those who are forever tap tap tapping away on the keyboard, kindly note that there is no excuse for haggard looking correspondence - be it paper, or paperless.

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