THE MORELLO LETTERS
Duncan McNair

Fourth Estate, £9.99



Solicitors do not have the best reputation when it comes to letter writing, and with some justification. Many have inherited and further developed an arch style that they seem to think is how solicitors should communicate, but which can leave clients at the receiving end largely in the dark about what is happening with their case.


One solicitor who most certainly does not fall into this category is Duncan McNair. By day a commercial litigation and insolvency partner at central London firm Pettman Smith, by night he is the conduit through which the happily bonkers Italian immigrant Morello family corresponds with the world.


Following in the footsteps of the likes of The Henry Root Letters and The Timewaster Letters, Mr Morello spends much of his time writing to the great and the good of this nation. He seeks advice on the confusing world around him in the west London suburb of Ealing, permission to name various animals in his household menagerie after them, and help in dealing with his three idling children, Tosi, Amphora and Rizzo, not to say his imposing wife.


For Mr McNair, his letters follow in a well-trodden tradition, but they have a different style to the spoof letters that have come before. 'They're not political, satirical or debunking,' he explains. 'They're intended to be innocent and just [reflect] one's sense of humour.'


The context is different too, he explains. 'The Morellos are real characters who are integral to the humour,' Mr McNair says. 'They're a great bunch... if it was just a flat, cardboard character that prompted amusing responses, it would lose something.'


Indeed, so keen is he on the family that the solicitor sometimes slips into the conceit that he is more their spokesman than their creator. There seems no particular reason why the family is Italian, except it allows for the added humour of their mangled English and also for their general bewilderment when confronted by British life.


By making the letters themselves amusing and having an inner life, Mr McNair continues, the book does not have to rely on the responses to prop it up. Some readers like the letters, others the replies, he says.


Nonetheless, it is the replies in particular that make the book so amusing in places. There have been enough spoof letters now that most recipients spot them and play along - indeed many thank Mr Morello for brightening their working day. 'There's clearly a tipping point,' Mr McNair acknowledges. 'It only takes a certain word here and an illusion there to tip it from a serious letter from someone who's a little confused to a gentle spoof.'


One exchange sees Mr Morello write to Oliver Letwin, then the Shadow Chancellor. Explaining that John Prescott has already consented to their putting his name to a newborn pup of the family's bull terrier, Mr Morello asks whether Mr Letwin would allow the same in relation to a baby gerbil. '[Mr Letwin] is happy that you should do so,' replies his senior researcher pithily, 'on the condition that J Prescott, your bull terrier, is kept well away from his cage.'


Mr McNair began writing the letters in 1996 to cheer up relatives in the wake of his father's death - publication was never the intention. He then stopped for several years before restarting in 2004. 'I find it a little bit compulsive,' he admits. Clearly the recipients do not mind either, as none has refused him permission to reprint their letters in the book.


His professional background pops up now and again, such as a letter to the Master of the Rolls for permission to use the title in relation to Mr Morello's bakery business (something of an old gag). Much funnier is a missive to the 'Lord High Chancellor Sir', Lord Falconer, to express Mr Morello's concern about a law apparently passed 'whereby you can marry your own mother-in-law'. Mr Morello explains: 'I cannot tell you how much I do not wish to marry my mother-in-law. I cannot over-emphrasise [sic] this. I can't send you a picture of the old bird anyway which could easily be connotated [sic] as a malicious communication.'


Lord Falconer's private secretary replies, with an admirably straight face: 'Although the recent judgment made by the European Court of Human Rights does apply to all citizens, you should in no way feel compelled to marry your mother-in-law.'


Tony Blair's list of his favourite things makes for good reading - who knew that his preferred wildflowers are snowdrops and bluebells?


Among the (as yet) unpublished letters in the collection are a string from Amphora to various City law firms in which she seeks employment as a secretary (with the quality of the letter demonstrating just how unqualified she is for the role) and asking detailed questions about their canteen arrangements. 'The responses have been very measured and understanding, if not holding out a great deal of hope,' Mr McNair recounts. Others that may be included in any second volume include an application by Kenton, the family's pet gorilla, to join the local tennis club.


Mr McNair professes himself 'genuinely amazed' at the positive response the book has enjoyed. 'It's had an appeal far beyond my expectation,' he says. Plus it is a welcome contrast to everyday legal practice. 'It's a nice departure and provides balance. It's a great antidote to some of the stresses of professional life. It's no bad thing to have interests away from the office.'


There is more than enough material for a further volume and there has even been talk of a radio serialisation. They are, at their heart, good, clean fun. 'Someone asked me "What's the point?",' says Mr McNair. 'I said I'm not sure if there is one. Mr Morello says there was one, but he can't remember what it is.'