An amusing whodunit set out in an epistolary novel. A cache of letters stolen from a Yorkshire village postbox is recovered, and it is each of these vignettes that form the basis of satire on rural village life. The actual theft is secondary to the comical tales of corruption or misunderstandings that each eccentric village resident pens in their letters. Some of the characters are so obnoxious that I am surprised there wasn’t a murder too!
It was initially - she insists - due to the difficulties she experienced in negotiating/avoiding random dog faeces during these night-time hikes that her bizarre habit of bagging other people's dog faeces and leaving them deposited on branches, walls and fence posts - apparently as a warning/admonishment to others less responsible than herself - commenced. This activity continued for upwards of six months before anyone either commented on it publicly or felt the urge to root out/apprehend the strange individual in our midst who had inexplicably chosen to enact this 'special service' on our behalf.