Your Honour,

I trust this letter finds you in good health. I hope that young Max’s carpal tunnel syndrome is on the mend, and that Bronagh managed to find a worthy jockey for Red Hot Filly Pepper.

I am writing to you from Malaysia, our fellow Commonwealth country, where I have recently become acquainted with a security guard at the end of our street hailing from Pakistan. As you probably know, it is not always easy for a foreigner to enter New Zealand, particularly to live – especially without a job offer. But, regardless of how little clout I have in such matters, I seem to have inadvertently given this man the impression that you and I are on the closest of terms and that I regularly acquire citizenship into New Zealand for whomever I wish. I engage with him almost daily in my comings and goings from the house, but what had initially seemed to be friendly banter about our two nations has quickly escalated into something a little more… demanding. There are, of course, awkward smiles and misunderstandings related to our language barrier, but I have recently felt increasing pressure to contact you directly – essentially to secure this man’s unbridled passage into our fair nation.

And so (keeping in mind that I let you borrow my lawnmower last spring) please hereby acknowledge this letter of recommendation in lieu of a mountain of paperwork and a job offer, for the venerable man from Pakistan, whose name I either never quite caught, or simply wasn’t given.

I know you can make it happen.

Your most loyal subject and friend,

David McGurk

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