Dear Lazarus,
I have put off writing to you until I could take no more. You don’t know me, but I have certainly seen you from time to time wandering the dusty streets of Cana. I have noticed that you sleep under the gorse bush/tent at the end of my very long driveway.
My name is Diver Dan and you must have noticed me. I dress in purple which is perhaps a bit exotic but it is what I am used to and I think it rather suits me.
I have made a career out of property management and tax evasion and I must modestly confess that I have done rather well. I am able to entertain Matthew the tax collector and Zaccheus, together with their wives and concubines. They come for a soiree on a frequent basis and we have a wild old time.
They have healthy appetites as do I, for Champagne, Beaujolais, stilton cheese, tiramisu and roasted pheasant doused in healthy amounts of gravy and sauces. I’m proud to say that there is not a piece of fruit or vegetable anywhere to be seen on my table.
There has been an odd complaint from the neighbours about the noise of my parties but it is nothing that can’t be bribed away.
I have two dogs; Buck and Buddy and I know that they are quite fond of you. I have noticed that they come and jump all over you when you are going to the market. Odd, but I have never seen you actually buy anything and I have often wondered why that it is.
My slightly wilder side of life began when my wife left me because of one too many indiscretions and I have sought consolation in all the wrong places. Food, wine, dinner parties and the wrong sort of house guest. For a few hours each night, everything is swimmingly pain-free, but then I wake the next morning worse for wear and while I may not be physically alone, I am actually more lonely than ever before.
So I did want to write to you and point out that while my life might appear glamorous and festive, deep down there is an emptiness and ache. The best word I can come up with is that my life is ‘hollow’. I have 5 fridges and 2 freezers full of wonderful sweetmeats and beasts. I have a cellar that is burgeoning with fine show wine. I have all the casual company a grown man could want and yet … and yet…
My physician is very grumpy with me and whenever he makes a house call (at an exorbitant cost I might add) he gives me the same lecture about cholesterol, heart, attack, stroke, girth, and death.
You, on the other hand, always seem so perilously lean and this is probably because I have never actually seen you eat. Although I thought I did see you try to wrestle a turkey drumstick out of Buddy’s mouth once. That incident aside, I have never seen you eat and yet you live just down the end of my lovely gravel driveway.
Sadly the purpose of my letter was not just to introduce myself but also to ask you to remove the shabby little tent which is tucked away under the gorse bush that you sleep under sometimes when it is hailing. It cannot provide much shelter and warmth so I wonder what the point of it is?
I have made enquiries with some of my learned legal colleagues and they assure me that I am quite within my rights to ask you to remove it under Cana Council regulation item 54, paragraph 6.1 which explicitly states that
‘No dwelling of any substance or design may be erected on someone else’s property without the owner of the property’s explicit written permission in triplicate. Copies must be given to the owner and lodged with the House Department of the shire no later than 3:45 pm on a Friday afternoon.
I appreciate that you must have a very good reason for this ill-conceived dwelling, but it does have a detrimental effect on the value of my real estate.
I do not want to pursue this matter through the usual legal channels as I am sure you do not have the resources to fund such an unnecessary courtroom fiasco. I am hoping the matter might be satisfactorily resolved by you removing the shade cloth, finding alternative lodgings and a written apology would be the gentlemanly thing to do.
Please do not be offended by this letter. I am sure that even though I have never actually met you, you are a thoroughly fine fellow and do not mean any harm by your naive choice to live where you do.
I expect that your habitation will be gone together with any evidence of your existence, by the end of next week.
All correspondence should be directed to my legal team Pharisee, Lawyer and co.
I remain yours
Diver Dan Esquire.
Bachelor of tax evasion
Master of property management
Wholesaler of gourmet produce.
Liquor merchant and importer of quality wines.