Magic is ultimately at its best when it has actual effects. A faint glimmer of glitter an episode of Eastenders later doesn't do it. Nobody likes a syncopated tease that gets you going and then buggers off.

I fear these metaphors are a multi-car pileup during low-visibility weather. Horrifically violent, yet tragically riveting.

But then, my dearest Julia, what choice do I have? This is what happens when your editor puts a rocket under your rear and invites you to light the blue touchpaper. Phwoarrrrrrr. We have ignition. We have lift-off.

(We also have a decidedly sore derriere, but that’s another story. )

I trust you can handle the worst of the revisions. You have my thanks, dearest Julia, and may fortune keep you from the dress sense of L.S.E pseudo-academics.

Important note to all spellweavers; adjust vodka content to mental state.