Dear So and So... Get it off Your Chest.

I have been enjoying the Dear So and So's over at Brits in Bosnia for a while now, and only today realised that they are in fact linked to a tag/writing exercise (not entirely sure what to call it) set over at Kats 3 Bedroom Bungalow, and that anybody can join in, (doh, not terribly observant you see). Oooh goody, I thought when all became clear. Rants are the one thing that I'm never short of, I shall have a go at that. So here it is, my first Dear So and So:

Dear Socks,

Where do you go to my lovelies? And why is it always just one out of every pair that disappears? Do you have a special hiding place where you can be found giggling hysterically every time one of the children shouts downstairs, ten seconds before we're due to leave the house, 'Muuum, none of my socks are the same!'

Come out come out wherever you are, because I'm in danger of going slowly demented.

Here's to pairs and all things that match, Gappy.



Dear Local Policeman,

I would like you to look deep inside your soul and tell me whether you honestly think it's justifiable to slam me with a 60 quid fine and three points on my licence for doing just six miles per hour over the speed limit. It's bad timing see? I have just had to shell out for two new tyres and my M.O.T. is coming up soon too. I am literally up to the eyeballs in crap-car-related-money-eating-stuff, and I could do without it, that's all.

By the way, did you know that domestic abuse accounts for 25% of all reported violent crime in the U.K. because duh, you're a policeman and you bloody well should. Perhaps if you put half as much effort into reducing that nasty little statistic as you do into persecuting people like myself in the interests of getting an easy result, then you might possibly find your yearly stats improving, aswell as your karma. Just a suggestion,

Yours in crap-car-related-poverty, Gappy.



Dear Brain,

Any chance we could perhaps hurry things along a little bit? We've an awful lot of stuff to do, and I'd like to get this posted sometime today.

Cheers, The rest of me.


Dear Snooty County Council Receptionist,

Yes, I know I have received two parking tickets in the space of a month from the same car park. Do you suppose it's really necessary to point this out to me (and the rest of the queue) in quite such a snooty manner? Your eyebrows really are in danger of disappearing into your hairline. Why the indignation? Myself and my colleagues have been asking for yearly passes for said car park untill we're blue in the face, but county council official bod - he say no. I am in fact thinking of taking up permanent residence on this very buildings roof, wearing a stupid costume and carrying a banner pointing out that this same county council official bod authorised the spending of 20 thousand pounds on repainting the towns main road, only to dig it up for repairs three months later. So perhaps you could stop looking at me like you're sucking a wasp and tell your boss to just GIVE ME THE FRIGGING PASS O.K?

Also perhaps you might like to ask that incredibly enthusiastically keen car park warden of yours if he would like a poke in the eye? You may even like one yourself.

Gappy.


Dear Veruca on Middle Sons toe,

Would you mind kindly pissing off now, before I am reduced to buying shares in Bazuka? The whole 'bazuka that veruca' thing was only funny for about two seconds, and frankly filing you down with that little emery board thingy makes me gip.

Yours, in anticipation of being able to go swimming at some point in the future, Gappy.


P.S.

Dear Technorati,

Here is your proof that I am not some evil spamming genius: BAMC4H44DZ85

Yours, forever in the hope of one day finally figuring out what the hell SEO actually means, Gappy.



And breathe..... Just like Fraught Mummy said: Better than therapy. Much cheaper too.