Friday, 18 December 2009

dearest t

given that you do not read this blog, guido fawkes, old holborn, or call me ishmael, and you do not monitor my communications by hacking into my computer (let alone eavesdrop on my conversations and track my movements via a bug in my mobile telephone), i trust that the contents of this letter will cause you absolutely no offence whatsoever.

i cut short your last telephone call because you started to rant on about sinking 'this ship'. if you are going to push your magic red button and turn the world upside down, please proceed - and i will await reports of a wet fart occurring in a hurricane. you appear to have issues about power which manifest themselves in an acute complex about the size of your penis - a trait which i must confess i have always found rather unattractive in a woman.

please give my love and lots of kisses to mummy - if she wants me, she will have to catch me.




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