I’m not entirely sure why I have chosen to grace you with one of my utterly fascinating letters on today of all days, i.e. #SundayFunday! Because it has to be said that having a control freak in charge of my country of abode is not my idea of fun on any day, let alone of a SundayFunday ….
Still, you do make an utterly,utterly fandappydozey subject for my scribbles. And, as everytime I see any living being with extremely-straight-ironed-out-but-still-scruffy hair, I cannot but help think of you. I guess this means that for some unfortunate but utterly invasive reason, you are ‘always on my mind’.
Yes, Boris, it does has to be said, to give you your due, that you are everywhere. Even as I am sitting here, in my cave at my writing desk, I look out of my very-drafty-glassless window and I see you! The drafts out there, on this rather breezy SundayFunday, are creating such havoc with your hairdo that I almost feel sorry for you!
This slight pang of sympathy is short-lived, though, because I’ve just spotted the mess that you’ve left in your wake – and, if you think, I’m going to trail after you with a collection of doggy bags, you can think again! And, if that purple shoe belongs to Jennifer Acuri, she can keep you!
First, however, I’ll be catching up with your old girl – to have a few words about ownership and responsibility; I do believe there are heavy fines in my locality for ladies who let go of the reigns a little! And, besides any of the legal stuff, then Jen really ought to consider tying up her golden locks, because she really is very lucky not to have been caught up in your turds!
Oh, Boris, what will it take to get you out of my mind? A wall? Yes, that could be the solution! If you ever get your brain-crazy Brexit deal through, and attempt to drag the rest of us ordinary mortals through your jobbies then, once that wall goes up, I’ll be digging through to take up residence on the other side.
Scotland, will you have me?
I did used to be an Aberdonian! I may have been birthed in Salopia, but I twice had occasion to take up refuge amidst the grand architecture of your granite city (and, no I didn’t sink so low as to squat in the sewers!). Take me back! Please, Nicola Sturgeon, I beg of you!
And, whilst I’m onto you, Nicola (sorry, Boris, I know I addressed this letter to you, but …), my eldest sprog needs a free university education, as will Sprog 2 and 3 in due course. If you need further evidence of my entitlement, Nic, then …
Okay, Nic, it would probably be polite to address you in a separate letter, rather than shoehorn you onto the back of Boris. Who, after all, would want to ride on Boris’ back? I mean, I know that he does have a fine pair of broad shoulders, but really?
Anyway, back to Boris! Boris? Who’s Boris?
Must be that old-age, menopausal thing kicking in. Can’t remember my own last thoughts these days! Best retrace the steps of my mental processes …
So long ….
And best regards from ?
Copyright of letter and scribbles owned by somebody-or-other who does not feel the need to lower themselves to the level of others by ratifying their intelligent ramblings and original artwork with a signature!
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