I’ve taken about as much as any reasonable man could stand, and now I’ve had enough. When Steven Starling first showed me the letters he’d received from you, back in ’96, I thought it was a joke. Using me as some kind of warped, deranged character in your story of the so-called “Red K” was, at first, vaguely humorous, but now it’s out of control. I am a professional. I have a well-established medical practice in Brisbane. I am married with children. I am a respected fishing journalist. You idiots have brought my name into disrepute. I have never conducted midnight medical experiments on poets or fishermen, nor have I kept the kind of company you describe in your septic, disgusting memoirs. I haven’t slept properly for three years. Please, I beg you, stop this insane activity now. People stop me in the street and whisper “Red K, Red K”, whereas in the past they would stop me and shake my hand and congratulate me for the black marlin I caught off Cairns, or the massive Nuigini bass I caught in the Sepik river. I feel I have been reduced to a cartoon character in some X-rated magazine for perverts. I don’t know why you have chosen me for your vile projections of humour and fury. If this nonsense continues, I will be forced to take action. It is not in my nature to be extreme, but I will not hesitate if you keep using me in your letters.
Dr David Greene