It ain't half hot mum (In which our Librarian witnesses acres of naked flesh)

Gad the heat Carruthers- the boys have issued Planters orders. Now, to be frank, I had no idea what this meant as my jungle training did not progress past Uncle Jim's Jungle Gym, but apparently the implications of this are quite shocking: jackets and ties removed, sleeves rolled up (four neat turns and not above the elbow - we are not an 80s pop group remember) - the place is starting to resemble some sort of Roman orgy. The Horror, The Horror.

Despite this shocking distraction, I have been managing to get a lot of work done - aside from an incident earlier in the week where I was forced to reenact the Dentist Scene from Marathon Man and, most shockingly, to pay over £200 for the experience. I suspect it's time I found a new dentist, and one where the receptionist doesn't chirp out in a loudly nonchalant fashion:
'No, you can't book an appointment with Mrs Engelblatt, she's dead'. I suspect there are better ways of breaking this news.

But I digress from my purpose. The old feller (or 'im indoors, but usually out as I call him) has apparently been drafted into the Albanian army. He went there on a sort of musical exchange programme, but appears to have come a cropper in the fashion of that nice Liam Neeson (or was it his daughter?) either ways, our offspring's reaction by text was :

The ungrateful brat! Remind me to put her on half rations for the rest of her tour of duty.
I am currently negotiating with various ambassadors and the makes of Ferrero Rocher to pay the ransom.

I have been putting a lot of work in building an electronic roll-call of soldiers which I am

thinking of turning into a musical, along the lines of Privates on Parade (although - given the amount of flesh I've been forced to face in the last few days - I'm not sure that this is wise). 
My version shall feature several old salty Sea Lords and the odd Cotton magnate and will start in the National Portrait Gallery where, it appears, they feature dozens, nay hundreds of illustrious former members of my platoon. 
Naturally, they will all be fully clothed: 
I guess Some Like it Hot, personally I prefer formal wear, as they say.