Dear All,
Ahoy-hoy.
I would like to share with you some news. Last Friday, the workmanship of Private Wackett, Private Bradley, and myself, was put to full examination in the guise of the Multiple Oracular Transmission. Fortunately, the test subject, Espace, was up to scratch and we have been granted the ability to use it as transport for 1 year, once the beaurocrats have been appeased with some guineas for tax.
The Multiple Oracular Tramission (or MOT, to Jens Lehman) Certificate now resides in a safe place, ready to show those impertinent French and a.n. other Jonny Foreigner who so wishes to see our papers.
We look to set sail in the ship soon on a journey, where we hope to bring back such legendary artifacts such as the Potato i hear that Drake has been banging on about, and something called Tobacci which Chris Columbus has been insestently puffing on since his return.
I hope this correspondance makes it's way to the correct personnel. I'm off to see those wenches about this damn stain in my tunic that won't come out, and i may stop at the local tavern for some of that genuinely disgusting ale that One Tooth McGready has been concuncting.
Yours always,
Lance Corporal Jellyman
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