Scheme

Dear Malcolm's Diary,

Still unknown to woman - or razor for that matter, but I do believe Frederick is a sign that after twenty-five years of boyish softness, I shall soon become a man!

Onwards! Diary, with my newly fertile follicle (and the hope of a quickly-sprouting mane of manly chest hair) I have begun to plot my revenge in a manly fashion. You might have noticed that your serene, powder-blue exterior has now become enwrapped in a firm layer of camoflauged fabric with gold fillagree on the outside binding. Thomas the Tank Engine, who once occupied your front cover - and my heart, has now been replaced by a gun wielding Benson- his magical narwhal horn newly glistening with the gore of his enemies, astride his unicorn death-steed! Oh, Diary, such schemes we shall hatch together!

My plan is as follows (note to self, must be careful not to leave you around dear diary should my little plot be unrightously purloined by that carpy English brigand) : Young Siward, being a good English boy, is quite taken with his wit. Oh, how he goes on and on diary! I have been the proverbial butt of many of his witticisms, but no longer! I have devised a retort of such cunning and guile (no small feat considering both are foreign to my nature) that upon its utterance, Young Siward will wet himself with shame, the men will hold their manhoods cheap, and all the ladies' corsets will rupture as their desire for me outgrows their own physical bodies!

The key for this successful endeavor is to engage Young Siward in a conversation about laundry. As Young Siward cannot help but seize every opportunity for a naughty comment, I have the advantage.

For fear I may be discovered, I shan't record the barb (but rest assured...it is sharp). Wish me luck Diary, I am off to practice in the mirror! And possibly give Frederick a bath.

With much love,
Y.P.M.