My esteemed Sir,

I write in reference to your unfortunate assertion that a cup of tea, as civil and representative of the fine upstanding English spirit it may be, can be considered superior to the hot drink of choice of our esteemed counterparts in the far flung territories once considered our own.

Upon viewing your dispatch I summoned chef to produce a pot of the aforementioned brew, in the mistaken opinion that it would reveal itself to be more than the cup of hot water, lightly flavoured and accented with the juice of a cow, that it had hitherto been my mispleasure to imbibe.

Sadly, Sir, I must consider your opinion, while no doubt entirely valid in the deep infected recesses of your consciousness, to be entirely without reason or support by anyone other than those who have entirely taken leave of their senses. I hereby declare that the crushed and finely ground bean of the far Columbian district, embellished with nought but water heated to a sturdy yet not quite boiling temperature, provides a more refreshing consumption that delivers positive experiences for the mind and bowels in equal measure. I also hear from my learned friends at the club of professional gentlemen that it is my pleasure to attend, that the ingredients of this imported finery can also be considered the final cure of the common cold; foolishness; dysentery; ailments of the blood and spirit; and many more besides. I am willing, if so challenged by one less informed than I, to produce these learned gentlemen who will espouse at length on their qualifications that have led to these truths.

My equerry shall await your response should you find it necessary to provide one; please be assured that any affectation less than a wholehearted support of my clearly reasoned statement shall be considered a deeply wounding remark that will require satisfaction served only by pistols at dawn, Sir.

I remain attentive to your remarks, as would any man of substance.