‘Is that true?’

‘Sorry, sir, is what true?’

Brown was not amused, snapped:

‘About bloody manners. Don’t your lot do etiquette at queer school?’

Porter felt the lash, the almost lazy bigotry, the redneck conclusion of civility with homosexuality, tried to rein in, said:

‘If you mean, sir, do “Us lot” care about the feelings of others, well yes, we do have manners. As to manipulation, I couldn’t rightly say’

Pushing it.

He thought the Super was trailer trash, tried not to display so too openly. The sarcasm was wasted. It went right over Brown’s head, who resumed reading:

I wish to inform you that last Tues. I pushed a man under a train. The express from Brighton, it was of course late and no buffet service I believe. He was the first. This Friday, I’ll kill a woman, without prejudice, extreme or otherwise. My mission, which I’ve decided to accept, is to teach the denizens of our little corner a lesson.

A lesson in manners.

Anyone, and I mean anyone, who behaves like an asshole in public shall be terminated. What people do in private is, naturally, none of my business. For research purposes, you might read Mr Candid by Jules Hardy or Blackstone by… mmmm, the author’s name escapes me; he kills people for similar reasons.

A copy of this missive has been sent to the media. I don’t want to draw them on you, but if we involve them at an early stage, maybe it’s for the best.

Perhaps you’d be kind enough to inform your officers that they are not exempt from my intended cull.

Between us, Superintendent, we may create a tiny patch of civility in Southeast London. Is it too much to ask that in these uncertain days of fear, with cyberterrorists, ecoterrorists, and just plain terrorists, we may create a small area of forever England.’ Who knows, it may catch on, and the country might learn a touch of refinement. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, eh? I’ll do my part and, as a sign of my good faith, noblesse oblige if you will, I’m going to save you some valuable time.