Import, Export V

As far as I can tell, God has not yet discovered the whereabouts of my reclaimed secretary, and appears to be losing conviction that she's near me. In the last few weeks we've have no rains of poodles, no saintly manifestations and no plagues of cockroaches. That said, Scotland has had a couple of rains of poodles, St. Boniface has put in an appearance in an abattoir in Leamington Spa and brought the slaughtered cattle back to life, and Hastings has had repeated cockroach plagues. St. Boniface got reported on the BBC -- a solemn report with an artist's impression of St. Boniface -- and the cable news channels -- a live feed from the abattoir with flayed carcasses lurching about and trying to moo. The BBC are looking smug.
I've not found a sales angle on my engineer who can turn things to mould when he touches them, but I have made use of his anyway by sending him round to competitors. He can get into just about anywhere by turning locks to mould, or, with enough time, entire walls. I can foresee possibilities with this now, but first I have to break him of having a conscience.
We've had a shipment of chocolate teapots, which we've wrapped in tinfoil and sold on as antiques. The foil can be easily distressed, and when the teapot melts after the hot water's been poured in, we claim that it's age and stress related. We had a moment of worry when we saw that one of then had made it onto Antiques Roadshow, but luckily it melted under the studio lights before it could be examined.
In fact, they've been such successful sellers that I've decided to take the plunge and sell the silverware I've had in storage for the last couple of years. It's all made of arsenic with a very thin tin coating, but now that I've know I've got a target market that believes that antique silver can melt when it has tea poured into it, I know they'll buy the cheap silverware too. And if they die of arsenic poisoning, as my secretary pointed out, they can't sue for mis-selling.
It's a slow month, but business continues!