Veritable biographer

Memoirs for an ex-Nazi concerning a credulous biographer

The veritable biographer arose and aired his prejudices; though they were numerous there remained definite favourites. He placed his monocle in his ear the better to here ?! his cornflakes; the absence of snap, crackle and pop was clearly negligible. He congratulated himself briefly. He poured a cup of tea, remarking the reliability of such concrete truths as the electric kettle. Then he opened his letters, avoiding subclauses. His brow clouded, already encountering nasty descriptive bits and even metaphors. That an exterior irritation should trivially suggest that the sun of intellect might be clouded! The letter read:

Dear V.B.,

        I am sure that you will fail to appreciate why I am incapable either of authorising or refusing to authorise your optimistic labours. Sufficient to say that I will not endorse them, and suggest that you devote yourself to enlightenment of more useful kinds. If you insist upon visiting me, I can give you nothing more than "Good morning".

        Yours, etc.