Dear Soulja Boy

If it's all the same to you, I'd really rather not "kiss you thru the phone".

If it's one of those chunky old-school red efforts like Batman used to have, however, I would be quite up for clocking you over the head with it until no more words escape your worthless body.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Even a cursory glance at those shades yields the conclusion that you've blatantly scribbled your name on there in Tippex. Not quite the image of the super-bling "playa" you're trying to project, one suspects.

Dear Fred Goodwin

Voluntarily handing back half your annual pension, 'Sir'? Oh, what a fucking legend.

Truly, we must have all misjudged you. Just the £342,500 a year now, is it? Plus the tax-free £2.7 million snagged at the start?

Man of the hour. Humanitarian of the decade. Get the Nobel-fucking-Prize judges on the phone.

Stay in France; don't ever come back; and, most important of all - DROP DEAD, FRED you WHOPPING COLOSSACUNT.

Regards are too good for you.

Davis.

Dear Steve Jobs (II)

Re: the below. I take it all back. Apparently The Stig took his hat off on Top Gear tonight.

All around the country, one can hear the clackety-clack of a million tiny lives reverberating in unison, all Tweeting worthless proclamations of shock and awe. Yes, I can almost read it now, without having to go anywhere that puss-filled carbuncle of a webshite hell-bent on turning us into micro-blogging, monosyllabic automatons incapable of basic verbal communication...

@PointlessExistence: OMG! Bloke is some bloke! Fuck me! Thort it would be some other bloke! LOL

(...And yet most of my posts contain less than the requisite number of characters for a so-called 'Tweet'. God help us, we're all fucked).

Regards,
Davis.

PS - When I say I take it all back, I meant just the part about not giving a fruity hoot for your shitty liver. Obvo.

Dear Steve Jobs

I can honestly put my hand on my heart and say that I have never cared less about any one thing in this life than the headline "news" that you've apparently had to have a liver transplant.

Live, dead, ailing, buoyant - you'll always be nothing more than bearded corporate scum to me.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - There is however a particularly satisfying irony in the fact that an Apple a day has apparently done absolutely shit-all to keep the doctor away. All the best.

Dear "Yummy Mummies"

Please stop referring to yourself as a Yummy Mummy. It makes you sound like a right dick.

That is all.

Regards,
Davis.

Dear Dizzee Rascal

SOME PEOPLE THINK YOU'RE BONKERS!!! I JUST THINK YOU'RE A CUNT!!!

Cunt.

Regards,
Davis.

PS - Is that the "up yours" gesture from Friends you're doing there? How apt.

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!!!