Written by JAB

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Sunday, 5 December 2010

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John Lennon 9 October 1940 - 8 December 1980

London - Thirty years ago on December 8th, John Lennon was murdered outside his Dakota apartment in New York City, by Mark David Chapman.

Manfred Man didn't know he would be making history when he decided to renovate DC5, his flat at the Sie Liebt Dich Complex, in Hamburg, Germany.

As he describes it, "I vas fixing a hole ver ze rain comes in und I find a letter viz Liverpool England, on ze envelope. Ze neighbor he heard zat guys viz an English band live here in ze 60's und so I phone zum people und ze say, John Lennon vas a Beatle."

Thirty years after John Lennon's murder, Sotheby's will auction that letter.

Southeby's have authenticated the Liverpool, England, September 9, 1962 postmarked letter and are holding it in a safe place until auction.

According to Beatles expert, Mr Kite, the letter has at least eighty five or more references linked to songs written by the Beatles between 1962 and 1969.

A typed letter of the original handwritten one follows:

Liverpool, September 9, 1961

Dear John,

Good morning, good morning, I was glad all over after receiving your hello little girl letter, yesterday. You really got a hold on me, John. When I had no reply to my last letter, I thought there might have been another girl, don't ask me why, I should have known better. I was thinking, please Mr Postman, don't let me down. You're only in Hamburg but it's like across the universe, sometimes I think I'm down, but I feel fine now and I'm glad all over.

Yesterday, I saw her standing there, Eleanor Rigby, that is, and your granddad, down Penny Lane. It was his birthday, I hope I look that good when I'm sixty-four. They were talking about dear Prudence and her problem with the taxman on account of her Sun King shop. It's all too much, just let it be. As mean Mr Mustard likes to say, everybody's got something to hide except me and my monkey.

You remember sexy Sadie (sweet little sixteen), she's leaving home. She's going to have a little child with Johnny B.Goode. Her mum and dad don't like this boy they think he needs help, he's here, there and everywhere says Mr Maxwell Hammer. I've got a feeling he wants to be a paperback writer but if that's their ticket to ride, then I am the walrus. I told them, all you need is love and act naturally because tomorrow never knows.

Maxwell's Silver Hammer Jewlery shop window display is like a magical mystery tour. He's got Lucy in the sky with diamonds, Norwegian wood, an Octopus's Garden, strawberry fields forever, even a yellow submarine. It's like watching rainbows.

You know the long and winding road by Rocky Raccoon, well long tall Sally didn't see they were fixing a hole in the road and had an accident. She was in intensive care at Mother Nature's Son Hospital, her sister dizzy Miss Lizzy, said she had a hard day's night but with a little help from her friends, she'll be getting better. I don't want to spoil the party but when I saw her, all she could say was ob-la-di, ob-la-da, why don't we do it in the road. She looked helter skelter,I hope it isn't hello, goodbye.

There was nearly a fight at Sgt.Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club. Lovely Rita, said hey Jude, while he was talking to a black bird and Teddy boy took offense to it. It was like the fool on the hill, all this talk about revolution and that back in the USSR it's a world without love. Everyone thought they were going to come together, until Rita said honey don't, we can work it out, honey pie. I felt sorry for Jude as all he could say was, I'll be on my way, I'm a loser.

Do you want to know a secret, from me to you? Till there was you, I used to say, you've got to hide your love away. Now it's a day in the life, because eight days a week, it's good day sunshine.

All my Loving,

P.S.I love you

According to Michelle's daughter Julia, on December 8,1980,while doing research for book number nine, 'Happiness is a Warm Gun' her mother died of a gunshot wound in a strawberry field just outside of Chapman, South Dakota.

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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