“I don’t know”, Producer-san responded in question, “You say it’s British humour, but I don’t remember any jokes about Fish and Chips or driving on the wrong side of the road”.
“That would be humour about Britain, not British humour”, I anwser.
“I fail to see what the difference is”.
“For starters”, I sigh, “I wouldn’t make jokes about it being the wrong side of the road, as for me it’s the right side”.
“Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”, Producer-san ponders, “I mean, with the oncoming traffic and all”. I redouble my efforts in the sighing department.
“I meant that I consider the left side of the road to be the right side when it comes to driving.”
“Don’t you get lost a lot?”, Producer-san queried, “I can’t figure how you’d follow directions if you keep confusing left and right like that”. If ‘retripled’ was a word, it’s would I’d be doing to my sighs of disbelief right now.
“I meant ‘right’ as in ‘correct’, not in terms of placement”. I turn to examine the mountainous stack of mail that has been deposited on my desk. “All of these are negative?”, I enquire, “Surely that can’t be right?”
“Or left”, Producer-san added helpfully.
“Surely,” I seek clarification whilst attempting to suppress my irritation, “That’d can’t be correct? Why do you even bring me all of this mail if it’s all negative?”
“My own amusement”.
“Your own amusement?”, I repeat in disbelief.
“The look on your face at moments like this is the only thing that separates the potential living hell of working on this dreadful comic from the mere waking purgatory it actually is”.
“Dreadful comic?”, I reply, “Great, even you are insulting it now”.
“I’m just trying out this British humour thing you’ve been going on about”.
“It’s only British”, I explain, “If the degrading comments are directed at yourself”.
“Besides”, I add after a moments pause, “Surely it’s your job as producer to ensure the comic doesn’t suck?”
“Hey, I’m not Mu La Flaga“.
“Quite clearly. Still”, I try to steer the conversation back on course, “You mean to say that there wasn’t a single positive letter?”
“Well”, Producers-san responded, pulling an envelope from his pocket, “There was this one…”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”, I snatch the letter from this hand, “Let’s see here…”

Dear Mr. Kerot,

“Well, at least this one starts more politely than the rest of them…”

Dear Mr. Kerot,
I really liked that one comic you did about that new Key game. You know, the one with the koma/coma pun and the Higurashi cross-over? That was pretty clever stuff.

How come the rest of your comics suck?

“And you class this as a positive letter??”, I enquire of Producer-san, not really seeing how that works.
“Hey, you’ve got to judge these things comparatively”, he explains, “At least this one doesn’t wish any harm upon you”.
“So you mean to say”, I ask, seeking clarification, “that just because he isn’t wishing cancer upon me, or pleading for my mortal soul to be torn asunder, it means that this letter is alright?”
“Don’t you mean ‘alleft’?”
“You’re a moron”.