Lost: One Magnificent Insult

Original fictional notice from Plume City.

LOST, between the fig stall and the lower footbridge: one magnificent insult.

It came to me at half past four. By five, it had vanished.

The intended recipient is a goose in a green waistcoat who has spent three afternoons explaining how I ought to arrange my window boxes. He owns no window boxes. His own window contains a spoon.

The missing remark was concise, devastating and suitable for delivery while watering. I remember being particularly pleased with the middle.

Reward: six figs.

Please do not submit ‘mind your own business.’ I have that one. It lacks architecture.

— The Duck Above the Barber

ADDED THE FOLLOWING MORNING

Several replies received.

One was too cruel. Two were too long. A third concerned his waistcoat, which is actually rather good.

While attempting to reconstruct the original, I asked where he had bought it. He took this as a friendly overture.

He has now offered to repair the bracket beneath my largest window box. Apparently he is a carpenter. The spoon holds his window open.

I am willing to admit this complicates matters.

REWARD WITHDRAWN

He has repaired the bracket and invited me to supper.

If you find the insult, keep it. I may need a toast.