I write in the hope that you might sympathise with my plight. For none of mine aquaintance could be expected to proffer aught but brickbats, opprobrium or the cold shoulder.
You see, I have somehow acquired the reputation for being a bringer of ill-fortune.
"Get away!" they cry. "Why haunteth thou me thus?"
If I was a young man, I would have run away to sea long ago.
in view of the fact that Margaret Thatcher is to get a memorial inspired by the American memorial to Ronald Reagan, should she not be called the "Gridiron Lady"?
Arthur Braincell BSc (failed)
Her Highness Lady Baroness Thatcher was the ultimate role model for all civilised white women. She truly showed that with the application of hard work, brains, sado-masochism, vo...
Dear Sir Lancelot,
when the red red robin did you last buy a decent living kettle of fish? I think they have forgotten how to make a popocatepetl proper cat and fiddle kettle these days of wine and roses grow on you. I blame the Chinese whispers, everything seems to be made in China now then now then.
I bought it skipper a kettle drum down in the drink Batley High Street fighting man last we...
I ham fighting through you on beehive of a much misunderstood grope off scufflers, mainly, hose hoot stupor from the friction whereby hay displace random herds with other swords witch either luck or wound a skittle bit scimitar.
As ewe mustard seed, I amble cone of these importunates myself. Theseus hiss a moused perspexing disorder, being very scuttle hand mafeking the shuffler se...
I am writing in the hope that any of your readership may have a care for our lost histories.
You see, I live here in Broadwoodwidger and am researching the lives of our ancestor, Edwin Puley, who was a Cheesewright and Noddler, and indeed served his time in your very environment before ending his days as a Master Cheesewright and Chief Noddler back here in Devon.
I visited your...
I'm now in favor of gay marriage. That's different from before, when I was kind of in favor of it. I'm just saying, if I was gay, I'd get married. I mean that in a good way, of course.
President B. Obama
I always thought Rip Taylor was an American genius. I hear he'll be playing at 'The Comedy Dump" in Houston, TX later this month. I'll probably see you there if yo...
I write to you as it were a cry du cur from the heart, having had the misfortune to have read an article in your weekend supplement just gone. The weekend has just gone, I mean, not the supplement, which is still laid on my escritoire, ready for the recycling bin.
There was I, in anticipation of reading some picturesque passages about Dorking's lovely scenery, on account of the hea...
Last week, we asked for celebrity opiate users to drop us a line and tell us about the highs and the lows of their addiction.
Unfortunately, all the famous opium users are now dead.
Fortunately, Derek Acorah popped into the Spoof offices and was able to contact famous opium users from across the centuries.
There was a downside to this, as Derek Acorah popped into the Spoof offices this we...
I note that Paddington Bear will appear at Dalemain country house near Ullswater on the 25th and 26th of February, where he will visit The World's Original Marmalade Awards & Festival.
He won't, though, not really. Because he doesn't actually exist, does he?
Some soft-headed twerp buys his idiotic wife a teddy bear, then decides to write a book about an imaginary bear. It t...
Here I am again (oh no I hear you cry!) with the latest from my researches into the history of the Dorking Sentinels.
(For any readers who are not Dorking-bred, and are unaware of the tradition after which your newspaper is named, the Sentinels were originally guardians put in place to watch for the coming of the Danes. After Ethelfrith The Unsteady defeated the Norse King Wolfram...
whenever I hear the song 'I'm 'Enery The Eighth I Am', I think, "that wouldn't work if they said 'Henry' like we do in real life."
The cockney accent makes it worse; they are implying that all cockneys say "Enery" instead of Henry.
Now if they used "Emery", as in Dick Emery, that might just work, plus there would be quite a demographic to aim for when it comes to re-marketing th...
Is your name really Ed? Or is it something like Trevor, or Kevin? If that's the case, then why don't people write letters to Trev, or Kev? I've never been able to comprehend that - despite having a loud and rather authoritarian voice. It's one of those things which have dogged me from early childhood, when I inadvertently witnessed the master of the house, performing an act of exquisit...
Re- Hair. I used to have quite a bit of it. Then I got to a point in life where I didn't have quite so much, and now I find I don't have any at all. My wife attributes it to my age, but I don't believe her. If that was the case, how come the ones on the backs of my fingers and the tops of my toes keep growing? Answer me that then, eh! Eh!
Dear Sir (but definitely not madam),
I would like to complain in the strongest possible manner about nothing in particular or of any significance. As a middle aged man in the autumn of my life, I am utterly disgusted by most things; even the sight of Crocs makes me want to expunge a peasant's mortgage application. How can I, an outside minority representing the majority, endure any longer the...
I must admit to becoming vaguely disturbed by a recent trend in your esteemed publication - that of the blatant self-publicising cadre of crap writers, who appear to be allowed to shamelessly promote their, quite frankly, shitty product without fear of censure. I found myself misled by this relentless barrage of propoganda, and ordered the book from Amazon. 'The Dorking Review' was...
As a child I always dreamt of being the proud owner of a Johnny Seven One Man Army gun. This was the clever, 'Transformers' type toy gun advertised on the television, which could be fully or partially dismantled to make seven different weapons in one, ranging in scale from a pistol to a rocket launcher. However, being miserable bastards, my parents flatly refused to buy me one, eve...
To any readers who think their boss is ruthless, they ought to meet mine. The man is an absolute tyrant. He makes no bones about pointing out my, or my colleagues' shortcomings, and has even been known to scream abuse into people's faces. And what's even worse is that his breath frequently smells of chewing gum and a nice Chianti. This man's behaviour is positively Dickensian. He's...
Why oh why do you let things like this happen? I have just read, in the magazine section of your esteemed website, the most execrable, disgusting, expletive ridden article it has ever been my misfortune to ever come across. It was entitled, 'Have You Farted?' and although it contained a warning about foul and abusive language, nothing could have prepared me for the disgusting nature...