Dear Stephen J. Cannell, Ridley Scott, misguided studio heads

- NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO...!

Really? 'The Personality'...?! As Lt Col John 'Hannibal' Smith? You've gone for Rob frigging Roy? Qui-Gon? Oskar-ruddy-Schindler?! "I love it when a list comes together"?! Didn't you hear his 'American' accent in Leap of Faith?!

Christ, this is a bigger disaster than AF447...

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Get Clooney's agent on the phone, you hacks! THERE IS STILL TIME!!!

Dear Nadine Dorries

20 grand on PR help from 'Media Intelligence Partners'?

Not entirely sure that represents great value-for-money for John Q. Taxpayer - unless of course you needed some help buffing your image as a pissing, moaning, sour-faced bint hell-bent on fucking things up royally for young women everywhere, in which case they've done a right good job.

Nice to know also that our tax £££ have been put to 'good' use funding your ongoing campaign to impose further restrictions on abortion terms and pepper sex education with outmoded moralistic dribble about abstinence and this'n'that. Bonzer!

Can I submit this as my entry by clicking the 'Tell Nadine What You Think' on your webshite, you vile shrew?

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Nice lamp, by the way. Did we pay for that?

PPS - You can pipe down too, mind, Dollar bloke - admitting that you know "nothing about Mid Beds" probably not the best way of establishing your candidacy for anything other than Desperate, Self-Serving, Attention-Grubbing Shit of the Year.

- Aaaaah! I feel positively cleansed...

Dear Joanna Lumley

What are you getting so het up about?


Personally I can't be doing with gurkhas - I always pick them off me cheeseburger whenever I get a McDonald's.

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Douglas Hogg, guilty associates at Westminster (all parties)

Hold up a sec! Whoooaaah! Slow down there!


That's better. Now, I hope you don't mind, sir, but I just took a shit in your moat.

It wasn't an act of democratic reform per se, but it was within the spirit of democratic reform.

Regards (you disgusting, estate-owning, non-mortgaged, rich cunt),
Davis.

PS - You couldn't fork over a few quid for some bog-roll, could you? I promise I'll get a receipt.

PPS - [Insert flippant Hogg/trough pun here].

Dear Peter Andre & Jordan

What? WHAT? You're splitting up?! You mean there... won't be any more docudramas? No more nauseatingly tacky OK! cover-spreads? No rallying point around which the world's idiots can congregate to formulate perceptions of that one true love?

(Beat, throwing arms to sky):

- WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???!!!

OH! OH! OH GOD! NO! Say it ain't...

- WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???!!!

I... I... I can't even find the strength to go on, and it...

- WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY???!!! 

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Enid Blyton

I have totally just found the title for your next book. Check it out!

Just think: this could herald a whole new dawn of fucked-up shit going down on Kirrin Island. Prospective future titles might include Five Bag an ASBO, Five Get Addicted to Crack and Five Become Four When Depraved Sex Game Goes Tragically Awry. I imagine Aunt Fanny would give them a right hiding.

Hope this helps.

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Tinchy Stryder "feat" N-Dubz

Well, at least we now have something in common. I, too, cannot for the life of me "understand how you're Number One".

If it's any consolation though, 'Dubz', your uproarious anthem Papa Can You Hear Me? regularly has me rolling helplessly in the aisles begging for the laughter to stop. Na-na-nai! 

Regards,
Davis.