Letters, 1.

Inspired by Mel's marvellous idea for a play called Talks with JK Rowling, in which she has a one sided conversation with a poster of JK, and spouts witticisms about popular culture for an hour or two, I have decided to introduce a series of letters into my blog. In these letters I will spew all the pent-up venom I am currently stewing on, they will not be pretty and it is most likely that they will contain some extremely vulgar language - but thankfully, this space is not regulated by the "admin. thought police" and Big Brother was killed off at a freedom of speech rally, so the only person who can criticize my work, is me. At a much later date, I probably will have a go at my own bile too, but until then, I give you, to ignore as you wish, the first in series of "Letters to Boy Wonder."


Dear Colin,

It has occurred to me that I have been remiss in our correspondence recently, having received a number of emails from you that I have not yet answered. There are several reasons for my apparent lack of response; at the top of the list is the fact that your first email took such a patronising tone, that it made the blood rage through my veins at a temperature so hot that I was temporarily incarcerated in a mental asylum as I was a danger to myself and everyone around me; the doctors said it was a good job I do not see you on a daily basis, otherwise I might have found myself serving a life sentence at Her Majesty's pleasure. In short I was unavailable and could not reply for several weeks. Unfortunately, by the time I had regained my composure, you had sent out yet another poisonous little missive. Secondly, judging by your efforts, it seems that your vocabulary is disyllabic, therefore it has been necessary for me to attempt a note of epic proportions that expressed my dissatisfaction in a style that even you can understand. I do not work with idiots terribly often so as I am sure you can imagine, it took me rather a long time to write something that even someone as obtuse as you would appreciate. Regrettably, it took somewhat longer than anticipated, resulting in another irritating little jibe from you before I had had time to respond to your last. Finally, and quite frankly, despite the fact that I know about 300, 000, 000 more words than you obviously do, it took me an ice-age to think of a sentence that would suitably articulate my thoughts without being vulgar. In fact, surprisingly, I have not yet managed it, so until my next epistle, I will leave you with this simple opinion: I think you are full of shit.

Yours etc etc

Terri.