
Dear Mr. Lovecraft,
May I first of all take the opportunity on behalf of the Management to wish you a very happy 121st birthday.
We are in receipt of your 1164th letter of complaint, pointing out our administrative error, as you term it. Permit me to say that I completely sympathise; it is a very crowded subway train, probably because there are no stops to enable people to get off, and only one carriage. The lack of washing facilities must also be a considerable inconvenience to you and your fellow passengers, whom we have carefully selected from the widest possible selection of races and cultures. Let me assure you that this latest letter will receive our usual prompt attention. I am glad, incidentally, to see that the red hot pen and vitriol ink are at last bringing home to you the virtue of brevity. It is the soul of wit, I am told, though you would know more about that than I.
I am aware, as you point out, that a number of individuals have departed our portals during the period of your stay; I am sorry that you find this so distressing. However, let me say at once that there is no "password" or secret phrase which will allow you to share their happy fate. Indeed, I can state quite categorically that not one of those erstwhile clients has ever complained, or attempted to persuade us that they did not deserve to be here. Whether this fact may suggest something to you, I can only speculate.
In conclusion, let me remind you, Mr Lovecraft, by way of consolation, that there are many people within these walls a good deal worse off than yourself; and it is the policy of the Management to see that this position is maintained.
Affectionately yours,
SCREWTAPE
P.S. Would it be excessively arch of me to wish you "many happy returns"?