Sunday, 4 July 2010


Dear Holiness, the Fridge God,

I have collected the ritual sacrifices you requested - 2 boxes of organic eggs, 8 vanilla Danette puddings, 2 chicken sausages, 6 Activia yoghurts, a bunch of radishes, 3 packets of coriander, 2 of mint, 1 large piece of ginger and countless potatoes. They are untouched by human hand, in accordance with your wishes. Please put them to whatever purpose pleases you and if possible, be merciful.

Your worshipful slave,


(ps I have washed the crisper basket, I hope this does not anger you)

Dear Neighbours,

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUP UP. NOREALLYIMEANITSHUTUP. And if there is any more Amy Macdonald this afternoon, someone is going to get hurt.

Yours &c


Dear House

You still look like shit, despite my best efforts. Whilst we can both agree that my best efforts are pretty lame, I still think you are not even trying to keep up your end of the bargain. I request that you rectify this, by, at the very least, washing your own windows by close of business today. There are some of those wipe things in the cupboard under your sink.

Yours sincerely

Emma (solicitor)

Dear "Book" (that's a courtesy title. It seems overly familiar to call you 'disparate collection of word documents'),

I really hope you aren't as boring to read as I am finding you to write at the moment.

Please find your own way of making X find out about Y because every solution I come up with stretches credibility so far I want to just drag you to the recycling folder.



Dear Eyes,

Wow, you are so small and pink today! Do not let the tear ducts boss you around like that.

A concerned relative.

Dear Summer Sales,

Please, stop calling me. I have already told you, you and I cannot be together. You are just causing us both needless pain when you harass me like this. ESPECIALLY you, Comptoir des Cotonniers and you, Cos. You should know better.

I mean it. Don't make me take out a restraining order.


Dear Tadpoles,

I am really sorry. I think it was just too hot for you wasn't it? I am especially sorry at the sneaking relief I know I'll be feeling when I empty your bucket.

Yours in sorrow,


Dear Global Economy

Could you see your way to lightening the FUCK up a bit? Jesus! It might never happen. Miserable bastard.


Dear Readers,

Please write your own letter in the comments box. Anonymous letters are permitted.




Anonymous said...

All of our tadpoles used to die when they grew legs. It turns out that they need something to sit on out of the water when they are more froglike, otherwise they die of exhaustion. Just in case you needed to know that.

M. said...

Dear John Lewis,

Can I call you John? I feel like I know you well after this afternoon's visit. I never knew there was a whole floor full of well tailored, vintage styled, grown up dresses just out of my budget. Why did you make me try them on? Now I feel like I really am in my thirties, except without the stable income, thriving career, and adorable children.

Speak soon,


Dear La Favorita,

You profess to serve the best log-fired pizza in Scotland. Why were your tables empty today? Was it something to do with the mysterious, orange-trousered clown who was juggling badly amongst them? It was terrifying, even from a distance.



Dear Emma,

You kill another tadpole and I am no longer your friend.



soleils said...

Dear ice-cream,

I would be very grateful if you could kindly stop being so tempting, delicious and refreshing. Thank you.



Dear work,

I need you, God knows I do. Otherwise, how could I take my children on holiday and afford shiny things? However, it would be most appreciated if you stopped drowning me every year at the same time, i.e. just before the summer holiday.

As a result of this habit of yours, my entire family hates me and my children can hardly remember my face, which, apparently, is also ageing fast due to late nights enetertaining you, work. You want proof? One of my sons, looking at a pic of N. Lawson on a weekend newspaper magazine supplement, said "Maman, she looks a bit like you, but when you were much much younger".

Work, I AM much much younger than La Lawson, so kindly go and grace someone else's life, will you? And take your companion Ridiculous Deadlines with you.

Yours knackeredly,

Lola said...

Dear Emma

I AM A LETTUCE. How many times must I tell you? You cannot try on anything within my fresh green leaves. Bugger off, or it will be me taking out a restraining order.

Sincerely, but menacingly


Waffle said...

Dear Cos,

If that is the case why must you torment me with your drably wearable binbag dresses? Also, unless you come prechopped in an expensive sachet you are no lettuce I recognise.



Anonymous said...

Dear Feet:

Damn, sisters, YOU need some work. I know all I do is intermittently cram you into pointy shoes, then make you run 8 miles and then walk around in dirt and thorns with no coverings, but really, I expect more resilience. Would it kill you to pretty-up a bit? And we need to talk about the hair. It's okay for gorillas and hirsute gents to have hair on their feet; it is not okay for you, dainty Lady Feet, to sport a fan of fuzz over the instep. Do something about yourselves. It is beginning to be an embarassment.



Dear Dow Jones Industrial Stock Market:

Hey, Baby, are you okay? I know things have been tough, but you were able to rally pretty well for awhile. I noticed that you started cutting yourself last week, a little bit every day. I'm sorry you're so scared, Baby, but that isn't how you get people to believe in you again. And it scars, Baby, and it's summer and you don't want scabs and scars in shirtsleeve weather. Yes, I know, that oil spill thing is a total drag, but they'll have it cleaned up in a year or so. Come on, now, chin up, Baby, smile a little more and I'm sure those Wall Street boys will start calling again soon.
Listen now, don't think because it's a three day weekend that you can drink for 72 hours straight and show up for work on Tuesday hungover. That's very immature and you know better than that. And don't let me find out about any cocaine on Fire Island this weekend or I'll call the SEC and we'll do an intervention and get you into a good rehab program.

I love you, Baby, I know you can come back from this!

Love, C/Kalgon

Anonymous said...

Dear Person I wrote that email to,

That email did not come from me. In fact it never existed. There was no email. Also, if we ever meet again, I will die of shame, so please could you just emigrate to South America so as to eliminate this slim possibility? I hear Uruguay is nice.



chiclit said...

Dear massive government agency:

Thank you so much for the detailed survey asking my opinion on the art work for the new building that is half empty.

However, if it is all the same the to you, I would prefer if it you renewed my contract. I know the contract is caught up in petty midlevel politics, but really my work is of direct importance to the life safety of citizens. That being said, I like impressionist artwork and art deco sculpture.

Respectfully, Contractor A
Dear veterinary clinic:

I am sorry I burst into tears when you told me my dog likely has an auto immune disorder and showed me the bill for treatment. I am normally a little more held together, but job situation is a little uncertain. Thank you for offering to let me exit through the backdoor.

Dachshund Mom
Dear Tina at Macy's

Thank you for all your help picking out an affordable sectional and holding over the sale price. I am afraid I must cancel my order at this time, as my income stream is uncertain. But if the situation changes, I will be back, sitting the on the floor is difficult at my age!

A Customer
Dear Gang:

The once every 10 years "Sorority Reunion/Girls Weekend" in Mexico sounds fun, but think I will have to pass this year due to finances-but have a marguerita for me!

Yours in the Sisterhood

Anonymous said...

Dear Chiclit

Me too with the job thing. it sucks, sorry.

Yours in shared employment apocalypse,


Anonymous said...

Dear Ex

I know we're done, finally. We are, aren't we? And I don't know if I want to thank you for the good bits, or kick you in the nuts for the rest.

Not very amusingly,


Dear wine,

Thank you for assisting with the above situation.



Eliza said...

Dear Lovely Shiny New Bike

Now that we are together I promise to use you at least twice a week to get to work. You'll be pleased to learn we'll be going through the woods as opposed to the roads. I figure the chances of us getting mangled by a car are higher than coming to a sticky end on the trails.

Love you ever so much


Dear bank balnce

Please stop whining about the cost of the bike. There's money coming from the ING account in the next two days alright! I totally would have out it on the credit card but I can't remember my PIN number and I'm over come with ennui at the thought of talking to the call centre - don't you know they are officially the most long winded and unhelpful people around.

Your rubber earing


Dear Niece and Nephew

If your going to persuade me your not sleepy I need something more convincing than: if you do a little yawn your tired but if you do a big yawn your not tired.

Also Ièm pretty sure the bogey man does come if you go to bed when your not sleepy.

Your amused and always loving aunt

Pueblo girl said...

Dear Mid life crises,

Thank you so much for visiting me, and I have found your company very interesting and stimulating.

However, it has been some 5 years or so since you arrived, and I am starting to feel the need for some time alone, so would be grateful if you would vacate the premises before I return from holiday.

I hear that my soon-to-be-ex-partner has a flat to rent and will happily give you references,


the fly in the web said...

Dear person with a g mail address,

Since you already had my e mail address, and clearly know who I am, as clearly as I know who you are, why not ask me directly if my blog is indeed my blog rather than coming across with a lie about having websites which you would like to advertise in the hope that i would reply, thus confirming your suspicions.

It only reinforces my opinion of you and your associates and you will be pleased to know that I will indeed advertise your services ...not on links, but in the blog itself! Free! Something for nothing - your leitmotif in life!

I know you'll be pleased to have the publicity for your dishonest activities....


Z said...

Dear Emma,

Thank you for making me laugh just after I woke up crossly with menstrual bachache, and Dear Emma's Commenters, thank you, too.


Dear Uterus,

Please stay where you are, and stop trying to exit through my backbone. We've had this conversation before. Get the message.

The Boss

Dear Painkillers,

Where the fuck are you? Why can't you ever be in a logical place? Try staying in the medicine box for a change, instead of hiding out in the bottom of handbags or wherever you are this time.


Dear Books,

Please note that I have rearranged you in lovely colour-coded order, and provided you with even more space. I'd love it if we could come up with some kind of working collaboration, whereby I read you and you then leap nimbly to the correct shelf rather than sitting around piled up on the wrong one for months.

Your loving owner.

Unknown said...

Dear Weekend,

I so looked forward to you coming but you let me down terribly. You were not at all as advertisied and managed to be both boring and stressful all at the same time. I hope you make a much better effort next time you come round.

Modesty B.


Dear MAC,

I hate you. Stop bringing out things I don't need and making me want them purely because they will sell out. There are much more pressing fripperies I need to spend my meagre allowance on. Give it a rest.....oh hang on, I take it back. I see you will be bringing out some disney tat shortly. That will do nicely. Shit I absolutely won't want to spend my money on.


frau antje said...

Dear Guy Next Door,

Had I realized the sidewalk under our windows was your living room/garage/driveway/office, I would have signed a contract elsewhere, no matter how typically depressing it looked. If it is a cultural thing, one must wonder why this practice seems to be limited to you, and you alone.

There is no more attention in my skull to give you,

the buurvrouw

P.S. As for breaking up the monotony by walking out onto your flat roof behind our 'other' windows, or creatively dropping onto our fragile roof unannounced, I regret to inform you that You AND James Cameron can't both be King of the World.

katyboo1 said...

Dear Calamine lotion

It is bizarre and time traveller like that you smell like the summer of 1978. Also that I have to paint you on my son's poxy scrotum. I never thought I would have to type that line.


Dear bosoms

You are looking very droopy today, yet this is the same bra that made you look so perky yesterday. Is something wrong? Please, please do not take this time to descend to my ankles where I will have to restrain you with bicycle clips.


justmeagain said...

Dear Unsuitable never quite in a relationship with me but still......,
I fucking HATE that facebook profile picture of you with your new, smug and unattractive looking *girlfriend* . Change it please. You look stupid too. That is all.
Your slightly bitter,
not quite ex.

c said...

Dear Family,

I'm sorry.

I'm a massive disappointment to myself too. So I know how it feels.


Daughter x


Dear Yummy Mummy Colleagues,

No. I'm not one of you. And no matter how you scrutinise and disapprove, I'm not going to be one of you either.

The Mummy bit is not by choice, but by circumstances. The medics say that the baby brain you plead doesn't actually exist, so please try to get your pretty little heads around that.

As for the Yummy bit? Well I've never been much of a 'girl', really. My best friends are mostly men and non-girly women. I don't have the looks for Yummy... that ability to get it right in the aesthetic sense. And you know what? I don't really care. When it comes to a straight choice between fifteen minutes' reading time or straightening my hair like yours, I'll take the reading time, thank you very much.

You all seem very pleased with yourselves, anyway. So please let me go back to being invisible. Stop wishing me my 'turn'. Surely you've got somewhere else to be? Baby gym? Play date? Therapy?


Inadequate Childless Colleage x


Dear Readers of my Blog and Tweets,

If I haven't unfollowed you today, then it's probably a massive compliment.

Having cleared out a cupboard of 13 year old detritus yesterday, shredding the half-remembered remnants of another life, I am in no mood to let human spam go undeleted.

And as for you, the person I showed my blog to on condition that you didn't reveal its contents to mutual acquaintance, which you then went on to broadcast at a meeting? You'll keep. But not my secrets, ever again.

Tweeter x

Lisa-Marie said...

Dear weather.

I am writing to say that it is utterly unacceptable that you should decided to stop being sunny with a bit of wind, becoming gale force winds and sleet, when I happened to be on the shorefront. You could and should have waited till I was in the pub.n You have bad manners. You could rectify this by not raining when I have to go to work tomorrow.

An angry non coat wearer.

Dear pub barmaid,

Thank you for the free cup of tea, and for my share of the free hotdogs, it made me considerably warmer and happier.

Yours sincerely

Patrons of The Eagle,

If someone is singing and playing guitar for you, it is customary for you, the patrons, to clap as he finishes each one. Don't be so fucking rude next time.

The wife of a singer song-writer.

Bryony said...

Dear Scar,

Welcome to the body. The rest of us have been rubbing along for 47 years now so you are the new kid on the block. Please try not to repulse everyone who sees you or to irritate those who point our that you are not entirely straight in a line down the leg. Thank you.


Em said...

Dear Hair

Stop being so f'ing curly. I'm sick of wishing you straight. You don't listen or even try very hard. And you always pick the very worst moment to spiral off in different directions. Either I look like a 12 year old boy or a mad cat woman.

We need to break up.

Yours only because we're attached,

Waffle said...

Oh, I have an extra one.

Dear Other Neighbours,

Sunday night is a bullshit night for a party with shite techno cranked up so high I can't hear Dexter. Now shut the fuck up.

With extreme irritation,


Anonymous said...

Dear St Tropez
kindly tell me why the fucking fuck you have invented a tint free mousse. I thought the whole point of you was that you went on brown and I could slather you on with illeffect whilst wankered. I can't like you anymore, you cheating bastard. How dare you.

Fuck you,


Dear Cava Rosado

I can forgive you leaping into my shopping bag unannounced, however, the nausea I will experience tomorrow is unforgivable. Have a word with yourself please.


hungover and streaky

Waffle said...

You know that Thank you notes site? This is like the evil opposite of that, with all of us berating stuff, and people. That says it all about my blog, really. MY PEOPLE. COME TO ME.

(Yes, the dickhead children next door are still playing shite music. My mood is souring by the minute and it was pretty damn sour to start with).

Anonymous said...

Dear beautiful boy,

thankyou for being born seven months ago, and turning everything upside down. The three days it took you to come out were pretty grim and the days in special care were scarey as hell not to mention those sleepless nights in the early weeks, but we've got the hang of things now with a little help from gina ford. Having you is the best thing i've ever done and this is my best summer ever. I love you more than anything.

Love mummy xxx

Fridge said...

Dear Emma,

Thank you for the lovely contents that you bestowed in my freshly cleaned and chilled bowels. I shall retain them at perfect temperature until which time you feel it necessary to pluck them away from me. I only request that you do so BEFORE they mold and rot and begin to drain under the vegetable bin. You know how that part tickles me and I have no way to scratch it.

Yours coldly,


P.S. You missed a spot on the side of the bin drawer and it itches.

J. said...

Dear gang of forty year old men tricked out like Lance Armstrong in the Tour de France riding fancy bicycles on the sidewalk instead of the street where they belong:

You know what's not cool? When you pass little kids on their tricycles and old people with their drycleaning on the sidewalk and YELL at them to get out of the way. You douchebags.


Dear fireworks:

You were fun for about the first 4 hours or so, but it's really time to wrap it up now. It's raining and everyone is drunk, crabby, and in dire need of sleep after two straight days of BBQ and Bruce Springsteen medleys in the hot sun. Plus that guy down the street blew his hand off with a bottle rocket, so you've got your pound of flesh for the year. Knock it off already.

Happy Independence Day,

Artichoke Queen said...

Dear Tadpoles,

We are looking forward to sharing raucous good times in "pets Emma killed" heaven. Welcome!

The Pontypines

PS Did she flush you down the toilet too?

Waffle said...

Dear Pontypines,

Please recall that the CFO flushed you, not me. I just stood by and allowed it to happen. Yes, that makes me culpable, but I did not "kill" you. Though yes, under UK criminal law that would make me eligible for the same sentence, do not come over all legal on my ass.

Yours, semi-apologetically,


Dear Artichoke Queen,

Your memory terrifies me.

Also, I am in London Wednesday, so I can get your nail polish.


Nicky said...

Dear Boss-of-13-years-ago,

So you're back with your ranting, name-calling, pigeon-holing, manipulative ways. I've moved on from how small you made me feel and showed myself I can do anything I set my mind to. Yet you still fill my heart with dread, and paralyse my decision-making. I have no idea what to do now, but it won't be working for you.

Unoppressed me

Unknown said...

Dear Thighs,

I know I should be more concerned with er, important stuff, but please can you lose inches and become hairless and tanned and toned before we go on holiday next month with our friends, one of whom is really tall and skinny?



Anonymous said...

Dear gay, young fashion stylist,
Why on earth did you have to mention, on TV, that a pretty woman's nipples should be only 20 cm from her shoulder?


Dear tape measure,
FORTY-FIVE? ARE you SURE? In today's centimetres?


magpie said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
From Belgium said...

Dear daughter n°1,

I did not appreciate being woken up at 4hr30 this morning. Nor your insistence to come sleep in our bed. Kindly rectify this behaviour.



Dear Parents and Parents in law,

Would you please stop with the 'elder child hurts, kills, molests younger child while mother is not looking' stories? When I was first pregnant all I got where birth horror stories, when the baby was born and proved fine you started with the 'baby dies from freaky illness/accident' stories, when she went to day care you lovingly send me all the 'baby dies in day care' stories.
Would you like me to start sending or telling you all the 'cancer returning and death in six weeks' stories? I will do that you know.


freaked out enough

Dear Bompa,

Stop imitating a dog/bird/cat/duck/pig/any other animal in my daughters presence. She (allright I) thinks is freaking annoying.


Slightly irritated granddaughter in law.

Dear Ex-boss,

I left you more than a year ago and should have done that sooner. You are mean, evil and a general pest. Your husband takes condoms with him when he goes on a trip with his mates. And you know what, it doesn't surprise me one little bit.

Someone who is sooo glad she doesn't work for you no more.

Dear feet,

Look I have always complained about you being to small. But getting fat is not the good way to go. Please return to normal.


Your Owner

Dear Baby n°2




Loops said...

Dear Rats,

I appreciate your need for accomodation, but maybe you could find another place unless you are willing to chip in with the rent and cleaning. On that note could you also crap in the toilet while you are here.

After you have consumed that nice turquiose foodstuff I left you, please go out for a while rather than going to sleep in the floorspace where I can't awaken you.

Much appreciated,


Anonymous said...

Dear ex-husband,

Did you really invite me and my husband to the beach house you're renting with your new wife and OUR sons? The new wife who slept with you for a YEAR before I found out?
When we had supposedly reconciled and decided not to divorce? Yes? OK, just checking.


H said...

Dear small cat,

Please come home. Your Mother is lying on the bed pining and won't even lift her head up for tickles. That is more upsetting than the fact that you went outside and got lost.
I know you are a teenager, but you're still small enough to get eaten by a fox and we miss playing with you.

Love H

Anonymous said...

Dear Mother Nature:

We get it. We've been bad. We deserve this endless shitty cold gray soggy hopeless weather. It's just that what happens after 10 straight months of getting no sunlight is that we start to go crazy and grab sharp implements with which to hurt ourselves and the ones we love. Yes, we've abused you horribly and we deserve our punishment. But we are slowly losing our will to live... Oh, wait. That would solve a lot of your problems, wouldn't it. Sorry.

Hugs & kisses.


Anonymous said...

Dear Mother in Law,

Whilst your snarky comments go unnoticed by your adoring son I take some small comfort in knowing that others can see how twisted you are and are judging you for it. Seriously, stop humping your own sons leg. My decor is just fine thank you and no I haven't taken my wedding dress to a charity shop nor will I be doing so anytime soon. You can stop telling everyone I'm not worthy of carrying your sons children. We aren't having any. We are afraid if we did they might turn out like you.

Yours sincerely,

Chooser of your nursing home.

Dear ex,

I feel after your behaviour last Friday that I can say these things guilt free. For the past 5 years I have avoided contact with you not because I couldn't get over you but because I cannot bloody stand you. I laughed for a good hour after our last encounter thinking about the look on your mothers face when you told her you were moving back in because you had no job, no life and no prospects. You are arrogant beyond comprehension for reasons no one can fathom. People don't like you, they tolerate you.

Never really yours,


p.s Medium is a generous term and no it shouldn't bend like that.

H said...

Wow, these letters work. Small cat just wandered in after three days of adventures. And now he's hissing at everyone.
Well, either these letters work or telling neighbours to check their shed works. Or I should have just not worried about him in the first place because he's a cat with catty wiles.
The cute bastard.

Madame DeFarge said...

Dear work. We should stop before it gets serious, you know it was just meant to be a fling. it's not like I want a relationship for life. I've found someone else. it's time to move on.

H said...

OK, let's test the theory. (It's not going to work is it)

Dear small cat,

Please stop trying to kill your mother. She has been very nice to you for two years. (Apart from when she steals your food- but still- she's your mother)

Could you both please get on with each other and have less of this hissing biting thing that just started since you got back.

Love H

Anonymous said...

Dear Me,
You are turning into the worst aspects of your mother far faster than you ever imagined.
If you do not WAKE UP immediately you may find the metamorphosis complete before the year is out.
Stop telling everyone you're an artist and BE one or stop telling everyone you're an artist.
And enough already with the melancholia.
I still love you, now get painting!

P. in B.

GingerB said...

Dear goddamn lawyer with whom I work,

Being an asshole does not improve your success in court, and people are noticing.

Govern yourself accordingly,


Dear Sun,

Please get off my back, literally and figuratively. I didn't want to be so pale and then be lobster red because 50 SPF sunscreen is inadequate. A bunch of English people are pining for you somewhere, and writing songs about it. Go see them. They want you. I don't like you anymore.

With aloe vera,


magpie said...

Dear ex,
It greatly amused me that I did not recognise you because your hair has become so ridiculous you look like you're doing it for a joke. Also, it gave me great pleasure to see that at almost thirty you are now working in the pub we used to go after school - looks like being a creative has really worked out for you. I also enjoyed how you hid behind the bar.
I feel sorry for you, but mostly much, much better about my life. If I'd known that was all it would take I would have broken my no-contact rule to encourage you in this stirling endeavour. I no longer harbour one iota of desire for you.
Thank you and commiserations.

Dear me,

isn't it funny how even really clever, talented men who love you an awful lot can still do or say incredibly stupid things that hurt you, just through lack of common sense?
Don't worry, you'll be ok.

The Holy Tortoise said...

Dear Emma

It has come to my attention that you have installed in your new house a Turkish shamanic charm which includes the shell of a deceased tortoise.

This is very disappointing. even though you are no longer under my aegis, you should have known better
than to meddle with such powerful magic.

I have to inform you that your dog, the Weepette, has now been possessed by the spirit of the dead Turkish tortoise, whose name was Nejat, and who came from the anti-Taurus mountains in the south of Turkey.

Nejat longs to return to the place of his birth, and his unhappiness at being unable to do so is likely to manifest itself in strange and difficult behaviour from the Weepette.

It would be a good idea if you were to arrange an exorcism of the Weepette by your local Catholic priest as soon as possible, unless the diocese of Uccle has its own resident exorcist.

Even if there is a dedicated exorcist, he is unlikely to be experienced in liberating the tormented souls of Asia Minor tortoises from Weepettes, and I would be more than happy to assist
with this matter.

Yours, more in sorrow than in anger,

The Holy Tortoise.

CBG said...

Dear M

I've drafted and discarded several letters to you on the subject of your recent behaviour and how I would like to repay you for it, but unfortunately they all make me sound like a deranged serial killer.

Suffice it so say that I HOPE YOU DIE SOON.

And should you happen to be staked out on the ground, covered with honey, and then devoured by giant ants, then so much the better.

yours, cordially,


lisahgolden said...

Dear Emma and commenters,

Thank you for making me laugh THAT hard.



Dear someone,

Please fetch me a spoon so I can scrape the Sugar in the Raw that never dissolves from the bottom of my now empty iced coffee glass.

Looking forward to that buzz now,


Dear Jorge Cruise,

I'm sorry. I tried.


Claire said...

Dear The Holy Tortoise

I do not want to seem abrupt or rude but I must ask something of you.Would you mind awfully leaving the Weepette and possessing me instead?
I am Nancy,a newly hatched fly living in a bedroom in the Republic of Ireland.Unfortunately I am soulless.I wasn't always like this but I sold my previous one to the devil for 3 seconds on a slice of a goats cheese,pesto and pine nut pizza.
I vow to give you a wonderful,if short physical existence , full of joy beauty and an incredible view of the ass of the hot plasterer working next door.
This offer is on the table for the next 8 hours ,after that I'm afraid I will fall to my doom and rot in a dust pile behind the couch.
I hope to be possessed by you at your earliest convenience .

Conde Homer said...

Dear Muffin Top,
You have been a loyal and constant companion since the birth of my daughter. It's just that well, I don't think it's working out any more. I think you may like me more than I do you and you deserve better. Really, go. Please. Do this for yourself. I will never be able to love you in the way you want.

Ok, bye now. I won't be contacting you again. Please understand.