The Adventures of Doc Moreau & I, 4: The Lepidoptera Express

‘Who spatchcocked these Atlas Moths?’ Doc Moreau asked, shrieking in his indignation. ‘The execution is poor,’ I conceded, trying to focus.


The Lepidoptera Express project had been stalled for months & we were at breaking point: no government would accept butterflies as stamps.


Then, although the glue worked, and they lifted the letters easily enough, the butterflies simply couldn’t or wouldn’t remember the correct addresses.


The Night Mail moths had been our last hope. But we were plagued by apparitions of luminous ice cream vans in the depths of the forest…


Doc Moreau would chase after the tinkling nacht musik, firing bazookas almost at random into the trees while I feverishly prepared fresh moths.


Then, after nine months, a woodlouse crawled under the door dragging a postal order for some much-loved nephew or other: we were in business!


Soon every gravy-splattered brat had to have an album of Doc Moreau’s First Day Issue Babbage Whites fluttering at the end of a silken string…


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