More Letters To The Editor From Those Curiously Afflicted

Funny story written by Erskin Quint

Thursday, 14 June 2012

image for More Letters To The Editor From Those Curiously Afflicted
What? More Of This Tripe?

Dear Sir,

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 seam like an ill itinerant fuel.

Hit is also ex-horsing four the stubbler, who is fierced two expend barge accounts of elegy pimply too sway very tittle.

I trussed hat yore leadership can sea from my example cow delerious hiss rendition really is, and hill bee cable to whelp. Many coffers of kelp will be very much depreciated.

Whores playfully,

Harold Coypu
123b Butterball Villas
Nimple Hampstead

Dear Sir,

I wonder, 6 you 87 how difficult life can be for those of 45 who are afflicted with "Colonel Lumphammer's Disease"? 67.081 condition afflicts no 0.5 than 0.000060006 in every 354 of the 2. As I hope you can 4, this most painful 34.321 affects the ability 34 construct sentences. The 6 is forced to interject a random number 56 random 8s in every 34.091, which often 6 the sense of their 78.087 utterly incomprehensible to the 2.

Are any of your readers able to 76? Anything 3 be appreciated. Our groups, which 0.03 at self-help and mutual 567, are mainly 6 in the Exeter 3, but we hope to be able to 870.03 to Bristol in the 5 future. Whatever you 3 spare, be 7 time, money or simply 98, will be 4.5 with open 236.3.

Thank 25,

Mrs Jonquil Doom-Harbinger,
Catatonia Mansions
Gettysburg Crescent

Dear Sir,

I and many like me are suffering in Brian each day. Without so much as a Brian we go quietly about our Brian. Indeed, so Brian are we that the vast Brian of the population could truly be said to be Brian of our Brian.

This Brian, known in medical Brians as Brian Brian, is a Brian which was first discovered by the Austrian Brian Dr Jochim Brian of Brian University in Brian in 1923. It has become known in his Brian as "Brian's Brian" ever since in the medical Brian but as yet is not generally understood by the general Brian in the street. Indeed, few Brians are even aware of its Brian, let alone know much about Brian.

The victims of this most debilitating Brian are both men and Brians, Brian and old, physically Brian as well as physically Brian. Brian's Brian is no respecter of Brians. The Brian you sit next to on the bus, the portly Brian in front of you in the queue for football tickets, the young Portugese lady who rubs baby-oil into the Bishop of Rottingdean's Brians for money - any of these Brians may be Brian Brians.

I Brian: can any of you find it in your Brians to give a small Brian to help those who Brian from Brian's Brian? Any Brian will be Brian Brian.

The Brians Brian out for it. Sometimes we begin to think we have recovered from this dreadful condition, when we manage to make a sentence that is free of the word in question. But then, heartbreakingly, we fail at the very last hurdle to make a second sentence free of the word Brian. And then we might Brian that a complete Brian is made Brian of the word Brian. Brian Brian Brian Brian; Brian Brian: Brian Brian Brian Brian Brian Brian Brian?

Brian faithfully,

Major Yorick Plantagenet Horsebiscuit-Williams
Brian House
Gnu Street

Dear Sir,

Call me Ishmael. I am writing to you today in the hope that I might call attention to the plight of a considerable number of our fellow citizens whose attempts to communicate are severely impaired by an overriding compulsion which forces them to interject, amongst quite normal sentences, extracts from the novels Moby-Dick by Herman Melville and A Clockwork Orange by Anthony Burgess and they sort of pushed their lower lips out at that. "Come with uncle," I said, "and hear all proper. Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones". There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim. Dim being really dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry.

Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and I am sure that you can appreciate just how difficult life can be for those, like myself, who, through no fault of our own, did the strong-man on the devotchka, who was still creech creech creeching away in very horrorshow four-in-a-bar, locking her rookers from the back, while I ripped away at this and that and the other, the others going haw haw haw still, and real good horrorshow groodies they were that then exhibited their pink glazzies, O my brothers, while I untrussed and got ready for the plunge. Plunging, I could slooshy cries of agony. You can only imagine what this is like for our families and friends.

So, although I am loth to make any financial appeal in these times of economic difficulty, I feel sure that many will want to help. Surely no-one can stand by and not want to do something, however little. Now small fowls flew screaming over the yet yawning gulf; a sullen white surf beat against its steep sides; then all collapsed, and the great shroud of the sea rolled on as it rolled five thousand years ago.

I am confident that my appeal will not go unheeded. Which is fair speeching. But, brothers, this biting of their toe-nails over what is the cause of badness is what turns me into a fine laughing malchick.

Yours faithfully,

Alex Starbuck
Korova House
Nantucket Pastures

Dear Sir,

it is a particularly distressing condition that I wish to bring to the attention of sympathetic readers this day. I, and my fellow sufferers, are daily afflicted by this and perhaps my example may serve to illustrate its difficulties.

You see, we are unable to stop thinking of a plan to dye one's whiskers green, and I weep, for it reminds me so of that old man I used to know - whose look was mild, whose speech was slow, who snorted like a buffalo that summer evening long ago a-sitting on a gate.

On our wedding night, I gazed into my wife's eyes and said: "when we were little, we went to school in the sea. The master was an old Turtle - we used to call him Tortoise." Of course, she was puzzled, and things became especially fraught when, instead of making passionate love to her, I said I could not. In explanation, I simply recited:

Beware the Jabberwock, my son
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

At a recent job interview for a post in public relations, I replied, when asked to enumerate the qualities which I could bring to the position in question:

I hunt for haddocks' eyes
Among the heather bright,
And work them into waistcoat-buttons
In the silent night.
And these I do not sell for gold
Or coin of silvery shine,
But for a copper halfpenny,
And that will purchase nine.

I need hardly tell you the dreadful result of this lapse. Yes, I got the job, and now I groan in anguish every day when I think about going to work.

As a final example, I cite the day I was called to act in the role of Witness in a very important case of Assault and Battery. I took the stand and it was required of me to confirm my identity. All I could do was to intone:

He would answer to "Hi!" or to any loud cry,
Such as "Fry me!" or "Fritter my wig!"
To "What-you-may-call-um!" or "What-was-his-name!"
But especially "Thing-um-a-jig!"

I should have been lucky to have got away with contempt of court. Sadly, that was not to be my fate. I became a judge, and now sit at the Littlehampton Assizes every third Michaelmas.

I feel that I have furnished you with enough exemplars. Surely our pain is too evident. Please help if you can.

Yours faithfully,

Carel Lewis,
Dodgson Court
Alice Springs

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

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