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Friday, 30 September 2011

image for Letters To The Editor About Flower Arranging, Dead Bees and Hillman Hunters. Yet more rubbish

Dear Sir,

Now that the nights are drawing-in, may I bring to your reader's attention the joys of Flower Arranging. The bright cheerful colours and hues of late-summer blooms can brighten up even the most dreary of rooms.

I myself have just placed a vase of yellow tea-roses upon the kitchen table, where their subtle scent and delicate petals have a most pleasing effect.

My boyfriend, David, gave me a bouquet of roses on our first date, and they always remind me of him.

I don't know why he left.

Miss Wendy Sprocket
Underpass Boulevard


Dear Sir,

I wonder if you or your readers are able to help me with what I believe to be a common problem. I refer of course to the difficulty of storing dead bees.

I'm sure that you will agree that these hard-working providers of honey for our breakfast toast deserve that their mortal remains are properly looked after once they have passed from this world into the next.

I initially stored their tiny lifeless bodies in a glass jam-jar, but found that after 18 months the tiny corpses would deteriorate and their wings would drop off.
Brother Simon, who claims to have a scientific background of some sort, informed me that this was due to exposure to the atmosphere, and that if the dead bees were stored in a vacuum there would be no detrimental effect upon their remains. I tried to create a vacuum within the jam-jar using the attachment from the Dyson that we use to clean the Abbott's study, but found that all of my dear departed friends were violently sucked into the appliance.

Brother Simon then suggested that a plastic bag would be more suitable than a jam-jar, and that a sock could be used as a filter over the sucking end of the Dyson.
I tried this but found that the bag would collapse forming a golf-ball sized wedge of compressed bees.
I admit that at the time I entertained a few un-charitable thoughts regarding Brother Simon, but he seemed to be as upset at the resultant ball of squashed bees as I was.

He has now suggested that freezing may be the answer to the problem, but having suffered the traumas of his previous suggestions I felt that it would be prudent to seek a second opinion before getting the ice-cube tray ready.

Yours faithfully
Brother Garfunkel
Witless Abbey.

He didn't say anything. I really can't understand it.

We were so happy together.

Wendy Sprocket (Miss)

Dear Sir,

Last Thursday, just as I'd pulled up in the car-park of my local supermarket, the rear-view mirror of my car fell off its mounting.
The wife was alighting at that time, and in her haste to get at the groceries, she accidentally knocked the mirror out of the car and then trod on it, breaking the glass.

The car is a 1974 Hillman Hunter, and I have not been able to locate a replacement mirror for it.
If any of your readers should happen to have one spare, I would be willing to pay the market price in order to ensure that I can continue driving without constantly worrying if there is traffic behind me.

Yours in eager anticipation,
Bill Baker
Saltmarsh Flats.

It was a Sunday. I'd cooked a beautiful dinner for us as well.
It was all his favourite things... Roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings...
He just put on his jacket and went.

Julie next door said that she'd seen him with another woman. But I don't believe her.
She was just jealous of our happiness.

Wendy Sprocket.

Dear Sir,

I've just seen Mr Baker's letter regarding his 1974 Hillman Hunter.
I used to have one. Although it was a 1973 model. Anyway, I sold it to a man who lived in Woodlands Road in 1979, and it might be worth Mr Baker asking if he's still got it.
I think he lived about half-way down on the left-hand side.
And I'm sure he had a white dog.

Yours etc,
W. W. Butcher
The Ridings.

Dear Sirs,

I've noticed that recently there have been less words in your 'Letters To The Editor' section. To wit: Last month there was 1,851 words in total, but the month proceeding it had 1,913.
I'm concerned that if this continues, next month there will only be 1,789. Therefore I've sent in this letter containing 62 words to make up the shortfall.

Fred Catnip
Southwold.

p.s. Please ignore my name and address in your calculations.

p.p.s. And also the p.s.

There was jam roly-poly pudding with custard as well!

Wendy.

Dear Sir,

Re Mr Baker's re-view mirror for his Hillman Hunter: I've just realised that I didn't actually own a Hillman Hunter as previously stated. I owned a Triumph Bonneville.

I always get them mixed up.

Sorry about that.

Probably best not to bother knocking a Woodlands Road.

Yours,
W. W. Butcher
The Ridings.

He said he loved me.

Wendy.

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

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