rampaging john bull
The letters home of
Sir Allenby Pigge-Worlshe, RSPCA, GHQ, TTFN
Vice-President, Max Mosley Society de Degalas, France, 62320
My Dear Sinden
It is with enormous pleasure that I confirm we are not, after all, the only nation in the world run by lunatics who would be unemployable in any other job. My English neighbours here Jeffray and Caroline Begge-Lurk recently put their house on the market. As you will no doubt appreciate, selling any property in the Degalas area is these days an occasion for fireworks and thankful prayers. So it was good news indeed when they received an offer not entirely unadjacent to the asking price after only six months.
But the good news ended abruptly when their farmer neighbour Monsieur Allardoux turned up on the Begge-Lurk front doorstep soon afterwards to announce that - if they wished to sell with all the land mentioned in the agent's details - they would have to give him a serious bung. Ha-ha they cried - until the Mayor Monsieur Monopolie told them with a Gallic shrug that the reptile Allardoux was on a solid wicket.
Here in France, farmers occupy the position once enjoyed by the Scargill rabble before the Blessed Handbag came to our rescue. They come first second and third on every issue: indeed, so potty is their position several furlongs above the law, all the cheeky buggers need to do is turn a plough on a chap's land, and before you can say Wat Tyler they own the whole field. Poor Jeffers and Caro have had to buy their own land back off Mister Frog the Farmer. So despite the daily madness back there in Brown Britannia, it could be worse: you could be at the mercy of devious peasants and crooked Mayors - as opposed to crooked local planning departments and devious bankers.
I see that flighty piece Lumley told the media pack she trusted Brown to deliver on the Ghurka issue. There exist in our midst many naifs prepared to believe that up is down and Cameron can think, but Lummers isn't one of them. She knew the Gordon Highlander would renege, and now she's practically unseated the socialists single-handed. She's done a damn good job for these plucky slant-eyes, and we must now hope this ghastly Government will know how to behave. The holding of one's breath is not advised.
Reading the BBC website today, I was unsurprised to discover that bacon sandwiches are good for one after all. This follows closely on the heels of our mad vets finally realising that salt and eggs are also grist to the mill of all those like you and I who know that life is there to be enjoyed to the full, not endured until the age of one hundred and fifteen by ratbag crones living in the environs of San Francisco. They will never learn these Health & Safety harpies, nor indeed will the troughers at Westminster - over whom I shall draw a discreet veil for fear of aggravating my apoplexy condition.
The dear old Pound has crept up a few points recently, probably because Brown isn't paying attention. Let's hope it stays that way, otherwise the currency of our forefathers will soon be on a par with Comrade Mugabe's loo-paper. Needless to say bean, I retain the old service revolver in the attic just in case any other cheeky bugger starts talking about taking the Monarch's head off our notes...or even worse, joining this cartoon Euro nonsense we have over here. If every EU country is so bloody bankrupt, why is this beastly currency nearly on a par with ours? Don't answer that.
I was watching one of your old sitcom gems on BBC 93 the other night. You haven't aged a bit.
Yours halfway down the last of the '97 Vosne Romanee
A P-W
My Dear Sinden
The pigeon post de Degalas is rather better than your pidgin porn from
This leads me to wonder if - just as the former politically incorrect gags about black chaps having enormous members was universal among we whites – so those of various darker hues concluded years ago that we told so many of these tales, we must be horribly underendowed ourselves. I'd wager they tell smutty jokes about us all the time: ‘Heard the one about the Englishman who wanted a penis extension? Surgeon turned him down - said he didn’t do keyhole surgery’. Ba-
Anyway, I’m not worried about the size of mine you understand, dear me no, perish the thought and I bought the ruler purely for DIY purposes. So it’s good to have other pointless anxieties such as Swine Flu. I’m not sure this has struck you during various excursions there and back to see how far it is, but isn’t it rather odd how we’re told by everyone – Odrama, Brown, the WHO (that Roger Daltrey’s rather dishy, isn’t he?) and Alan Jobsworth that we should ‘do what you normally do when having a bout of flu – wash your hands frequently’.
Well I’m sorry old chum , but it has never occurred to me to wash my hands more often when the aching limbs and oceanic
I got into a bit of a kerfuffle this morning trying to tot up the number of folks in mortgage arrears who’ve used Alistair Daley’s Mortgage Protection Scheme. As the crooners sing, one is indeed the loneliest number, so it’s good to see that two people have used the scheme – even if they are man and wife. £285 million announced as if it was the secret of time-travel, and that’s what they did with it. Or rather, didn’t. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if that Smith woman used most of it to buy her husband some porn and oh God, we seem to be back where we started.
I shall close with (in case you missed it) Brown’s classic from last week about McBile’s emails: ‘I take full responsibility for this matter, which is why the person responsible is no longer working with us’. Amazing: 'Mr McBastard is a man I know only vaguely, having met him once for two hours every day for the last five years'.