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...
Dear Editor, 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...
Dear Editor, 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...
Dear Editor, 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...
Dear Mark, 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...
Dear Sir, I melon to you as one who wishes to draw the pomegranate of your readers to the grape of those who are forced to endure the banana called "fruit insertion coconut", by which they are tomato to substitute the starfruits of fruits for the actual mandarins they really want to apple. As blackberry can no strawberry pineapple, this is a very apricot condition for both sufferers and thos...
Dear Sally, Ever since my visit to the proctologist I have found myself liking the feeling and seeking out ever larger and rougher men. Is there a cure? Failing that, could you tell me where to find some nice big men who know how to treat me rough? Desperate of Nuneaton. Dear Desperate of Nuneaton, I'm afraid there is no cure. People like you should be in prison. That's where you'll find the...
Dear Sir, it's a damned queer affair about these colonial johnnies from Australia, what? Not content with stealing sheep and loaves of bread from honest shopkeepers in the 19th century, what do they do when they get transported to the world's most God-forsaken hell-hole? They make it into a veritable University of Crime, that's what the sewers do. First they hunt the aboriginals to extinc...
Dear Sir, I think it is jolly shocking all, thi's about Robert Murdog (Rupert Murdoch - Ed.) and these phone's what he has been hacking. After, all it i's so dear to run a phone line, without the'se hacking going on top of the bill's. I think that Robert Murdock (Rupert Murdoch, you fool - Ed.) should of been forced to pay the bil'ls for all thes'e people what phones' has of been hacked.
Dear Sir, I live in the countryside (I hope to move into a house soon) and I feel I must put pen to paper (not that I have a pen, or any paper, but you must humour my whim I fear). Now I am lost for words. It's all the brackets. That's what stymied me with the algh, the aljibrae, the algiebrar, the maths at school. I got bewildered by brackets. I always reckoned when I wrote my arto, orto, a...
Dear Sir, I got so fucking angry about all these phone calls what I get all day long from bastards trying to sell me all kinds of cunting crap that I took a stanley knife out of my drawer and hacked off the cord from my handset to the socket. Now no cunt can ring me at all. Seen as how the only calls I ever got were from twats in Calcutta or Milton Keynes wanting me to claim back fucking Paymen...
LIVERPOOL FC Dear Editor, I'm not usually one to tell people to 'f*ck off' but I feel that it's necessary to tell all the non-Scousers who support Liverpool Football Club to 'f*ck off.' It may well be that I've grasped the wrong end of the stick here, so I don't object to Liverpool supporters gobbing off, providing they're proper Scousers. I can't be doing with Australian Scousers, or New Je...
DIGGING Dear Editor, I know people talk all the time about how dull us elderly folk are, and about how we're forever harping on about the good old days, but I make no excuses for calling for the reintroduction of rationing. It never did us any harm, during or after the war, and you didn't see fat kids lolloping about back then. I genuinely believe that youngsters today would be far healthier...
Dear Sir, I am a reader of your electronic magazine and applaud the way it saves paper. It doesn't save electricity, like paper magazines do, but I guess there's a cost-benefit analysis lying in wait for us all with the Great Accountant In The Sky one of these days. So, without further ado (what does "ado" mean, then? it's always bugged me, it has, and, while we're on, what does "bugged" mea...
Dear Sir, I was fascinated to read in your magazine, about three years ago (I can't remember exactly when), about the days of the British Empire and some of the great characters of those times. But why did you not mention my ancestor William Plumstone, the man who introduced the porcelain eggcup to the Headhunters of Sarawak? Despite being warned numerous times, William had the courage to...
DISCOVERY Dear Sir, I wonder if any of your readers can settle an argument? Only, my husband and I were having a discussion the other day about the end of the world. He reckons it will happen either when the sun finally goes nova, turns into a red giant and swallows the earth up, or when we get hit by a giant asteroid. I reckon it'll end when we get overrun with vampires and zombies, which w...
Dear Sir, may I, as an occasional reader, speak up for the humble cod? Wherever I go, I find that nary a person has a kind word for the cod. I am frequently made nauseous by the effusions of some of our more simple-minded citizens, upon the subject of their pet animals, viz. lap dogs, cats, various songsters, and suchlike. But how many endearments is the cod vouchsafed? Not one. Well? Have y...
Get Spoof News in your email inbox!
We use cookies to give you the best experience, this includes cookies from third party websites and advertisers.
