Our Man Inside [111] I am a poet in deeds—not often in words.

Greetings from beneath The Guardian.

I'm in London. Brollies and scarves appear to be the fashion statement of the day. It's May Tomorrow.

I'm rushing this newsletter out during the busiest stint of work I've had for a long time. I'm not complaining. Just setting you up for an error riddled half-arsed email I wish I'd managed to spend more time on. The…

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