Dobson’s Boots

Ahoy there Key!, writes Dr Ruth Pastry, possibly trying to pretend she is aboard an ocean liner, I have a few questions for you about Dobson’s magnificent collection of boots. Yesterday we were told about the Austrian Postal Service ones and the Nova Scotian Seabird Tagging Patrol ones, and we can add to these the many other boots we have learned about over the years, those designed for Hungarian Flying Officers not least among them. What I want to know is, did Dobson have some sort of official connection with the many and various organisations whose boots he saw fit to wear? Are there gaps in the biography where he was, unbeknownst to us, actually employed by them? If this is the case, I really think it is time we were filled in on the details. Or, if not, it begs the question of how an out of print pamphleteer managed to obtain what I presume were pairs of boots normally made available only to those tireless servants who, for example, delivered the post in Austria or tagged seabirds in Nova Scotia. I do not want to think, even for a second, that Dobson may have gone marauding around the globe thieving boots wherever he found them. It pains me to consider the very real possibility that my favourite pamphleteer may have been wallowing in a fetid swamp of moral turpitude. I suppose it is only fair to declare an interest here. As you know, I am a woman of impeccable rectitude, and would never, ever stoop to thievery, but for many years now I have been coveting a pair of Uruguayan Butcher’s Assistant’s Boots and I cannot for the life of me think how in heaven’s name I can get my mitts on such an item, short of becoming an assistant to a Uruguayan butcher, a position for which I am hopelessly unqualified. My final question, then, is to ask if you have any advice for me in this regard. Not that I am expecting sensible answers to any of my queries, given the Key track record, but I live in hope, and at least I have got this off my chest. I am now going to wander up on to the deck of this entirely factual ocean liner, and stare at the sea, before eating my dinner at the captain’s table, jealously eyeing his Peruvian Sea Captain’s Boots which have been cobblered in a fashion very similar to the boots I covet. Passionately yours, Dr Ruth Pastry.

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