Apparently, Mr Larkin is desperately ill. The poor gentleman's life hangs by a thread. Retaining his spirit of scientific curiosity even in circumstances of extreme misfortune, he dragged his ailing frame to his computer yesterday evening to check his symptoms on the interwebnet.
The results of his search were even worse than he suspected. Mr Larkin has the plague. And not just any old common or garden plague, mark you, but the exceedingly virulent "Terrible, Terrible Plague".
Mr Larkin's sufferings must be great indeed: Lady Bracknell is given to understand that he has a sore - nay, gravelly - throat and a sniffly nose.
As the Editor would be inconsolable at the untimely loss of such a good friend, Lady Bracknell can only hope that Mr Larkin will pull through.