Written by Coco de Pudsey
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Tags: 50 Cent, Club

Monday, 15 October 2007

Dear Mr 50,

Re: "In da Club."

I do hope this letter reaches you as I have been otherwise unable to make your acquaintance. After hearing your recent popular composition, I embarked upon a quest to track you down. However, this has been harder than I could have ever imagined. I have spent many wasted evenings searching for you in clubs around my locale, Gimlet Green Bowling Club, Boffingham Street Young Conservative's Club, Prithick Tonk Grammar School Upper Sixth Chess Club to name but three. So Sir, you leave me no option, having exhausted all possibilities, but to assume you are not a member of any club whatsoever. Naturally, I am frustrated but unabashed, and so will continue with my point.

I am a Chelsea pensioner , I will shortly be celebrating my ninetieth birthday and have been a life-long music buff. I have seen acts as diverse as Django Rheinhart at Le Club Hot in Paris and The Sugarhill Gang live on the terrace at Raffles in Singapore. I have, however, only lately discovered your music via my great-great grandaughters son. Upon first hearing your LP I would like to say that I was suitably impressed with your legato delivery and punctilious "beats". However, my "beef" with you, Mr Cent, is thus. It would appear that the general corpus of your lyrics is concerned with the acquirability of drugs, guns and "hoes" to gain status and respect. (I too am a keen gardener and can empathise greatly with your last aspiration, as one never seems to have enough hoes these days.) Mr Pence, I would like to know why this is so? Is it not possible for you to rap about positive imagery, such as regular excercise, temperance and backgammon? I fully comprehend that at my age I am not considered to be a part of your target audience, but do not be so quick to judge that we have nothing in common. I have been shot at numerous times too. I lost my right testicle to a bullet in Gallipoli and my late wife shot me accidentally in 1974 whilst trying to take her own life, the silly mare! I may be old, but I am not yet so senile and incontinent to realise that filling young people's minds with profanity and mysoginist balderdash can only be harmful. Only the other day, during my daily jaunt to the Budgens, my path was interrupted by a young man, gesticulating wildly and shouting something about "TuPac". When I enquired as to his meaning, he merely hopped up and down on one foot, yelled "Blap!" and limped away. Are you starting to see the damage that is being done? Fear not Mr Fifty, I am not placing the blame entirely at your feet. Infact, you have several peers that are equally guilty of expressing similar views to your own. I have written letters on many occasions to Eminem, Iced Tea and Snoopy Dog Dog stating my case, but to no avail. The only response I have recieved was from Dr. Dre, who kindly sent me an autographed "blunt" and a facsimile of his General Practioner's papers as requested, (which, incidentally, I still believe are counterfeit).
Your music has reached a popularity of unprescedented levels amongst the youth in this country. You cannot walk down a street in London without hearing one of your tunes blasting forth from cars and shopfronts or hissing metallically from a personal walkman. Nevertheless, with this success comes great responsibility and I am concerned that your devotees may be taking themselves a little too seriously. There are people listening to your music who belong to an extremely impressionable demographic, ie adolescents, poorly-educated young adults, anyone who works in the media etc. who may not only hear your message but wholly subscribe to the image of your gangster lifestyle. There may well be an element of authenticity to your story of selling your grandmother to obtain narcotics but, as far as I can see, this has little or no relevance to a teenager growing up in a middle class suburb of Norwich, who has never even seen a gun, never mind "popped a cap in one's arse". In the late 1940's, I regularly used to frequent the jazz bars of Greenwich Village in New York, jealously watching the sublime talents of the bebop legends, but never once thought of becoming a hard-drinking, womanising heroin addict just so I could be like them! It appears that the younger generation have forgotten that music is just music and not a manual for our existence. I very much hope you agree that something has to be done before the situation becomes any worse. My time is nearly at an end but you have youth and celebrity on your side, so please do not waste the chance you have been given to set the record straight.
Please accept my apologies Mr Fiddy but I'm afraid I will have to sign off now as my colostomy bag is nearing capacity. I hope soon to meet you in the club, (Muswell Hill Rotary Club, next Tuesday, by the billiard table) and we can talk through our plans over some scampi and a nice glass of Hennessy. I patiently await your reply.

Yours faithfully,

Aigburth Wallid - DMC and Bar

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