He carried it into the living room, opened it carefully and read it in silence.
Twice.
It didn't help that Uncle Zoltan was reading it over his shoulder and began to snigger.
'What does it say, then?' I asked.
'It's not even really from the Mayor!' Uncle Z jeered.
W replied despondently, 'Well, it's from one of her secretaries, and she says the Mayor is quite interested in having a celebrity to switch on the street decorations.'
'That sounds encouraging,' I said.
'But it goes on to ask whether I know any celebrities who might be willing to do it!'
Uncle Z burst out, 'Hahaha! THEY know you're not a celebrity, my boy — talk about illusions of grandeur!'
'Well,' I replied, 'I'd just ignore that and write a nice letter saying that YOU would be willing to turn on the lights for them if they'd like. And remind them that you do have the Freedom of Uckfield — if that doesn't make you a celebrity, I don't know what does.'
Wilson agreed, 'That's exactly what I'm going to do.'
Uncle Z unhelpfully added, 'I'd start the letter with "Don't you know who I am?"'
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