On WH Smith Closures and Hot Cups of Tea
Sir/Madam,
The news that WH Smith is considering selling off its High Street business has left me reeling, much like the time I tried to balance a ladder on a trampoline to prune my neighbour’s overzealous wisteria. One cannot simply discard WH Smith, that sacred temple of overpriced stationery, snack multipacks, and magazines you didn’t know you needed until they were nestled beside a travel pillow and a Toblerone.
But what truly baffles me is the sheer audacity of this decision in a world so clearly held together by the delicate threads of paperclips and novelty bookmarks. And what, pray, will happen to the pencil cases? Are they to be abandoned to some corporate wilderness? Will the gel pens rise up in rebellion? I dare not think of it.
Faced with this existential calamity, I sought solace in what can only be described as humanity’s last remaining constant: a strong cup of tea. Now, I know this may sound absurd, but I firmly believe that a properly brewed cuppa could solve both WH Smith’s woes and, by extension, the nation's. After all, what better way to heal a retail chain teetering on the brink than with a beverage that has soothed everything from bad weather to existential crises?
Picture it: staff huddled around kettles in the stationery aisle, sipping PG Tips and brainstorming innovative ways to flog sudoku books and overpriced USB sticks. Customers could receive free tea with every greeting card purchase, creating a sanctuary of calm amidst the chaos of high street decline. Who knows? Perhaps the sheer aroma of Earl Grey could reinvigorate their business model entirely.
My neighbour, however, has misunderstood my enthusiasm. She insists that tea cannot reverse corporate mismanagement and that WH Smith’s woes are due to "market forces." But I ask you this: can "market forces" warm your hands, soothe your nerves, or perfectly accompany a slightly dry custard cream? I think not.
I urge WH Smith to reconsider this dire course of action. Let us brew not just tea but also hope — for the humble stapler, the loyalty card, and the all-important travel-sized Sudoku. Together, with kettle in hand, we may yet triumph.
Yours in mild bewilderment,
Marmaduke Teasdale
(Devout believer in the restorative powers of stationery and a properly steeped brew)