I’m an avid sender of postcards and letters and always have been. On a whim, a friend will get a little dispatch through the post.
My friend Bryan has been the lucky recipient of some of these but always used the excuse of me not having a permanent address as reason to not return any. When I informed him of the new shack, this arrived.
It’s amazing. Mr Bingo and his Hate Mail are hilarious, so hilarious that every print run sells out within weeks.
“Now you owe me 70 postcards,” Bryan told me.
I’m no artist and could not hope to compete with the wit of Bingo, so instead I’ve opted for the polar extreme of badly-sketched compliments slips.