Saturday, February 18, 2006

Lettuce to the Editor

Fresh fruit and vegetables are important to everyone's diet, and the editors here at The Waygood are no different. Send your Lettuce, preferably in text form to and we will publish it here. The Waygood reserves the right to edit lettuce for our sandwich making porpoises.

After a filing cabinet reshuffle, The Waygood Editors found this letter crumpled and in state for decay. But with the help of a spotty man, we have brought it back to life. It is printed below for your reading pleasure. We regret to inform readers of Braille that they might find it lacks feeling.

Dear Sir,

The House of Commons has apparently been in quite a state of flux of late, with several of the governments bills not being passed. I cant relate too many details of this, as I have been sound asleep in the House of Lords and quite rightly too. I haven’t been invested as a peer and could well be tried for impersonation if discovered. It’s a sad indictment of the society we live in when you consider the risks and boring conversation one assumes for a good leather couch and a decent cup of tea.

Which reminds me of the last time I was using public transport. I was standing on Chancery Lane waiting for a rickshaw when I looked beside me and saw Eric Satie reading the form guide.

“Mr Satie” I said, “Why don’t you have a French name, like Henrie or Philippe?”

“What do I look like?” He replied with a sneer, “A poof?” before spitting on the ground and walking towards the closest knocking shop.

This isn’t the first time that I'd come across a rude a Frenchman particularly fond of emitting phlegm, the most notable of whom being George Bizet, whose love of a good discharge was only matched by his hatred of the Spanish.

We were patrolling the North Moroccan border, something he considered a waste of time seeing as that we were patrolling a beach, he with the Foreign Legion and I in my capacity as the N.F Lancers Chaplain when I noticed his constant tirade of spittal.

“That’s a good one” I noted after a particularly clean ‘gorby’ much to his chagrin. This only served to encourage him further, leading to a perilous situation in which he started dehydrating quickly and the Moroccon summer sun only started burning more brightly. I wont go into detail of how we got out of that one, but lets just say that we’d still be out there – him spitting to the tune of ‘Carmen’ and me humming along in a state of delusion – if we hadn’t just got on with it.

If there is a lesson in this, it is that the House of Commons should be scrapped entirely and replaced by illegal north African rug traders requiring ballroom dancing lessons. I think. Im not sure. Its time for tea.

As my drill instructor once told me; “The important thing about drilling, is to make sure your drill is plugged in and pressed to the object you wish to drill – point forward”

- Rev D A ‘Tweak’ Nichols

North Fitzroy Lancers


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