Good Morning Mrs Johnson,
Please find attached below a blank inventory form for you to complete and return to me.
"Lexicon Harlot", "Mrs Johnson": a perfectly obvious phonetic confusion. As it happens, I rather fancy "Mrs Johnson". I'd have to stick rhinestones to the corners of my glasses, and sport one of those precarious 1950s beehive hairdos, but I really think I could pull this one off.
In other close encounters with the wonderful world of commerce: I, Mrs Johnson, was walking past the jeweller's yesterday, when I chanced upon this advertisement:
Valentine's Day Special
If you can't say it, why not engrave it?
I have often thought this myself. Words that confound even the most eloquent tongue always go down wonderfully well chiseled into a slab of pewter. I can see it now, romantics the nation over exchanging tokens of speech impediment, bracelets engraved with all the things we find so difficult to say in moments of deep passion, like "A skunk sat on a stump and thunk the stump stunk, but the stump thunk the skunk stunk", or "Six thick thistle sticks, six thick thistles stick".
Ah, young love.