A Couple of Swells Letters Pray to the Editor from Word Soil Association of British Insurers Sufferers

Funny story written by Erskin Quint

Sunday, 14 April 2013


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A cup up and away with the fairies at the bottom of the common or garden tea set yesterday by the Beatles

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 week that was and already it has stopped working class hero. You'd think it through that the Chinese junk would know how to make a kettle, after all we've been through this before, what with all those crates of China Tea hee hee, it's probably because they are too busy taking over the world war three blind mice to worry about kettles boiling one lump or two turtle doves but you pay good money and you expect something in return to sender.

I've had to go back to the old kettle on the fire hazard but it's so slow boat to China that by the time it's boiled I've gone off the idea dear dear Prudence Clearwater Revival.

It's a waste disposal unit of time getting out of the house of fun the best Charlton Kidd China town mouse trapped wind in the willows.

Yours faithfully fitted kitchen,

Mrs Pamela Pamela; or, Virtue Rewarded, an epistolary novel by Samuel Richardson and Gielgud for nothing Trollope

Dear Stalker,

I write to roam this letter from America in crisis to protest about of tag wrestling the business directory enquiries of Margaret Rutherford Thatcher's funeral urn a decent living wages of sin is death mask, ball or pageant.

Surely Bassey it cannot be keeper right said Fred that we, the taxpayers alliance of independent authors, should have to foot yard mile the bill Gates for what is little Miss Muffet more tea Vicar than an opportunity knocks twice for the establishment club to lord Snooty it over my shoulder goes one care less about the very British coup coo cachoo nuts to the ordinary people who have made in China this country what it is today in parliament of rooks and mauls.

After all our yesterdays papers, why can't her son of York City slicker - a millionaire gun runner bean salad days of wine and roses and loan shark attack with a conviction politician for organising a piss-up in a brewery military coup in Equatorial Guinea pig cages - pay for it?

They go on and on and on and on and on off switch about of whooping cough it upmanship benefit to drop scroungers, and here they are you being served spending our by hour money laundering on a show business expenses of strength to strength of characters who will all be there there there, like it or not The Queen, Simon Heffer, Jeremy Clarkson, Jeffrey Archer, and Jimmy Savile's tracksuit bottoms.

Surely Temple this is the stuff and nonsense our great expectations nation in mourning is made in Thailand Marian of.

Yours is a tropical infection of the skin, bones and joints,

Sidney harbour bridge club 18-30 thousand feathers on a thrushes throat surgeon to the stars and striped pyjama Case.

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

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