Dear MrsScars and LittleScars
I'd like to thank you for ooh, a lot of things. First off, for being women. I'd not met many before, and I had no idea how to behave. MrsScars: you have put up with my depression, got me through my touching phobia by introducing me to weapons-grade nobbing, and made me wear clothing that actually fits and doesn't smell. Also, you've laughed with me through my repeated accidents and subsequent surgery. Nor did you throw a massive strop when I bought a bike, unlike the wives of so many of our friends. You still have a laugh like a mad pre-schooler, and a grin like a lolcat.

LittleScars: How very amazing you are. First off, you're fearless. The good looks are to be expected, but I didn't count on the charm. Being a bloke, I'm also highly taken with your ability to fart so loudly the TV changes channel. Also, you're a girl. I'd not been brought up with girls. Being your father is like anthropology, but without catching bilharzia. BTW, if you don't tidy your room I'll hack your Bebo account and put this up there.
(all my scars face forward possesses 2.5% of a hyperalloy combat chassis, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 19:23, 1 reply)

Dear Man in the red car.
The next time you hesitate before speeding like a bat out of hell and going around a traffic island please take a good look at the space between the car coming at you with the right of way. You see, I was nearly there, and your coming made me have to slam my breaks on and the gentleman behind me as well.

I like my car. I like me. I'd prefer if both could stay in their original, complete, state.

Yours Sincerely,
k.sprinkles
(kellysprinkles dying for a pee since, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 19:23, Reply)

Dear Julie...
I use the word 'dear' in its financial sense, as for the ten years we were together you contributed about as much to our joint wages as a dripping tap does to the Atlantic.
Moving in with me is not a way of escaping from the parental home. Yes, your dad was an asshole but he did care for you in his own way.
And hiding my mail (this was pre computers) because I had several female pen-pals is not a way to make better of you when I find out.
Providing sex on tap does not excuse you still being in bed mid afternoon when I've been up since 4am, walked two miles to Brighton Station, done a full shift at Victoria Station, travelled home, and then being greeted with "What are you going to cook for me?"
When we've discussed the fact that we haven't even had a false alarm, and you claim the hospital has given your reproductive system the okay, I don't expect to get a phone call at work asking if you can screw one of our friends (who's fathered kids) just because my first test result has come back negative. And when the second says "Wow, you've got so many of the little swimmers its great" I expect you to go back to the hospital for tests, not start screwing someone else.
White chocolate still contains sugar, saying it doesn't is the reason your diabetes got worse.
If I ask for a Stephen King book for my birthday, I don't expect on the day to be told that my treat is to video you and your new boyfriend screwing. And when I laugh as he cums after 30 seconds, I think that's poetic justice.
When we both knew it was over, and you're planning on your boyfriend moving in, I don't expect you to act like a petulant child if I'm talking on the phone to a platonic friend who's offered to let me move in with her.
And five years after we've split up, when you've had a four year lesbian affair when men were anathema to you and then gone straight into a heterosexual relationship, I don't expect you to ring me 20 times a day (just letting it ring once so I think I've missed your call) especially if I do answer it and say I'm busy or at work.
I don't miss you, the sex life you said would never be so good IS BETTER, even your relatives can't stand you, God I'm so glad you're out of my life.
Be warm, safe, and happy, but nowhere near me.
Paof2
(paof2 Nude might not be rude, but rude could be nude..., Tue 9 Mar 2010, 19:04, 3 replies)

Dear all of the Audi/BMW/Young Corsa drivers

I love cars. I love driving. There is no fucking need, however, to drive behind me with a space the width of 3 human hairs from my bumper. Just no need.

There is also no need to drive with shit dance music on, with your windows down.

There is also no need to stop at a set of trafic lights (in the dark) and not use your hand brake! Take you foot off the fucking pedal and stop blinding me you twats!!!!

Yours angrilly

One Winged
(one-winged-angel-616 isn't as depressed as she sounds, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 19:01, 13 replies)

Dear White Pickup Driver
Sorry I messed up that overtake and had to swerve in close to you to avoid that oncoming SUV that turned out of the driveway (though you really shouldn't be following the vehicle in front so closely). But there was really no damage caused and no need for you to chase me for 10 miles, including two U-turns I took to try and shake you. You should know, however, that I wasn't running because I was scared, I was running because I had a .40 in the glovebox and didn't want to have to shoot you in self defense.
(aardvark_hunter, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 18:45, Reply)

Barry
It makes my blood boil when I see you make the same spelling and grammatical errors time and again.

Don't bitch when someone changes your LaTeX in cvs, it's because you can't write for shit and there's no way in the world any self-respecting person would put their name on something written so carelessly.

There are such things as spell-checkers, use them.
(Shippy likes linebreaks and doesn't care what you think, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 18:08, 2 replies)

Dear K
It's been a long time. I bet you are suprised that I think of you still everyday, but I do. I come and visit you too, but not as often as I should perhaps.
I didn't do so good, K, and I owed it to you to try harder. But I messed up. Worse, I blamed you for it.
But I always knew the truth deep down, perhaps that is what i was running from all these past years. I know I should never have let you go. I should have been stronger. I know it was my fault. My responsibility to keep you and Dad safe, like I promised Mum i would.
Well, now you are all gone. I hope you are together. I'm alone here.
Many times I have felt like coming to join you, but i don't have the courage. They call it the cowards way out, but i'm not even brave enough for that, so what does that make me?
I don't suppose it will be too long one way or another. Either my liver or lungs will get me. I've smoked four ciggies just writing this far.
I think what I am trying to say is: I'm sorry K. I'm sorry i let you die. I'm sorry it wasn't me instead. I'm sorry I have led such a self-destructive life. I'm sorry i never had children because i would be too frightened of losing them.

I'm sorry that I let everyone I love down.

Your Little Sis.
( TheSundaeLunch I'm a fucking shrub, alright?, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 18:07, 15 replies)

Dear Deciders of Fate,

Could you please, kindly, tell me the winning lottery numbers. Don't mind if it is only the mid-week jackpot, although the massive Euromillions one would be fab if you could. I am available by phone/text/e-mail/dream messages, whichever is best for you.

Thanks
8oo8s

P.S thanks for the little people you have seen fit to give me, they are fab! (making 2 people must be so much work - lots more than passing on a few numbers)

Ooooh *pop*
(8oo8s, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 17:56, 4 replies)

Dear boy from the history department at uni
You're lovely, and we have a great chat whenever we see each other. Which is bi-weekly thanks to our lecture schedule. You always ask how I am doing, how the wedding planning is getting on. I love hearing about your crazy nights out in the town. Just one favour - please leave out a book, or something which tells me your name. I didn't catch it when I met you over a year ago and I can't ask you now.

It annoys me bi-weekly that I don't actually know who you are.

Yours,

That girl in history, who's name you know and mention often.
(Mrs Ballunatic counting calories, not votes., Tue 9 Mar 2010, 17:14, 5 replies)

Dear fellow kitchen user who steals all my milk


I'm almost certain I know who you are, and you know exactly what you're doing, since it's always my nice whole organic 2 pinter that you take the majority of in one go, leaving me a 1 cm dribble in the bottom of the carton. I also know it was you who took a frozen chicken breast and a pepper, and probably my sodding yoghurt that I was saving for breakfast.

What you don't realise it that I currently have access to two sachets of hospital-strength bowel evacuant. Maybe then you'll think twice before nicking my milk.

Lots of Love!
( Poppy The Platypus was abducted by an army of toast soldiers on, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:56, 12 replies)

Dear Parents of the Primary School Children I Saw Today
My only question is this.

What kind of shit, lazy human being lets their ten-year-old-daughter go to school with a full face of make-up?

It wasn't just one girl I saw today - it was a whole bunch, complete with foundation an inch thick, eyeshadow, and the kind of haggard smudged eyeliner sported by WKD-swilling slappers the nation over. These little girls already had the kind of cynical hard-faced look of women in their forties who work in betting shops, or trainee prostitutes. It made me feel sick and angry and sad all at once. (Then again, this was in FIfe, so this could have been for any number of reasons.)

Kids should be kids, for God's sake. They'll have to face that side of the world soon enough.

z'all.
(jennymnemonic, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:52, 4 replies)

I got a Christmas card that was meant for someone else...
Hey Charlie I'm pregnant- again- and living on the 9th street
Right above a dirty bookstore off Euclid Avenue
And I stopped takin' dope and I quit drinkin' whiskey
And my old man plays the trombone and he works out at the track

He says that he loves me, even though it's not his baby
He says that he'll raise him up like he would his own son
He gave me a ring that was worn by his mother
He takes me out dancin' every Saturday night

Hey Charlie I think about you every time I pass a fillin' station
Account of all the grease you used to wear in your hair
Still have that record, little Anthony and The Imperials
Someone stole my record player, now how do you like that?

Hey Charlie I almost went crazy after Mario got busted
I went back to Omaha to live with my folks
Everyone I used to know was either dead or in prison
So came back to Minneapolis this time I think I'm gonna stay

Hey Charlie I think I'm happy for the first time since my accident
I wish I had all the money that we used to spend on dope
I'd buy me a used car lot but I wouldn't sell any of 'em
I'd just drive a different car every day, dependin' on how I feel

Hey Charlie for Christ sakes if you want to know the truth of it?
I don't have a husband, he don't play the trombone
And I need to borrow money to pay this lawyer
And Charlie, hey I'll be eligible for parole come Valentines day.
( Wanderer, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:36, 6 replies)

Dear Kitty
I really appreciate when you jump under my duvet every morning for a snuggle.

But I don't appreciate you padding at my penis when I occasionally have a bit of morning wood.

It's not a toy for you to play with, but apart from that I love you kitty.
(NuffMuff fucks shrubbery, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:36, 4 replies)

Dear Body
I'm sorry I haven't taken care of you.

I don't always exercise you like I should. (In truth, I sit around 90% of the day on my arse and proceed to get angry at you when I pant like a dog going up two flights of stairs.)

I don't feed you the things you need. (In reality, I cram all manner of shit into my gob in the hopes that you'll be able to process it into a clean-burning energy fuel that will somehow equal a balanced diet. Let's not even discuss the vast quantities of beer.)

I don't protect you, even when it would take moments. (Sunscreen takes too long to put on, right? A bike helmet looks silly, right? Seat-belts are restrictive, right?)

I don't appreciate you as much as I should. (Which is to say, I blame you for everything. When you get sick because I was farting around outside in -10 degrees or blasting tequila all evening it's certainly not MY fault! When you are sore because I pull an extremely unworked muscle group it's YOU that should've been up to the task!)

I guess I just wanted to say thanks. I can't tell you how glad I am that you've stuck by me all these years and that you're still willing to give it a shot for however long we still have together. I say so much shit about you and you never have a bad word to say. You've always been there for me and I'm not afraid to say I love you.

Cheers.

UW
(Uncle Washy, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:27, Reply)

Dear Loose Women
please please please please please just shut the fuck up.
(Hitler's other ball. R soul., Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:06, 4 replies)

Words! Tosh! Etymology!
Dear sports coaches/motivational speakers/idiots/Americans,

Just because you've spotted some little quirk of language that you think is clever it does not mean that you have to ram it down our throats all the time. These quirks are, at best, occasionally useful mnemonics. They do not give you some greater insight into how the world must necessarily be nor into the etymology of a word.

For example, most of us are aware that making unfounded assumptions is risky and can lead to undesirable consequences. We live our lives with this in mind. Being told that "When you assume you make an ass out of 'u' and 'me'" merely serves to make you look childish and the kind of person who can't remember their own name without having it tattooed on the back of their hand.

Likewise most of us are aware that historical records are often filtered and distorted depending on who records them. Thus "When you break down 'history' you get 'his story'", is also a teeth-grindingly annoying thing to be told, especially when you obviously believe that this is actually the origin of the word 'history'.

Yours etc.,

flimflam
(flimflam_machine, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 16:05, 6 replies)

Dear Justin
I know it's been a long time
Remember all those nights we spent sitting up talking in your front room,
About leaving this worn out world and starting again far away in a better place?
Well that's where I am now - but still thinking about you

I'm never going back there
I'm never going back to the bad old world

I was travelling with Laurel way up on the north coast,
She's got family living up here in a nearby town,
We found a piece of land that looks out towards
the north sea islands across the bay,
And the sun is shining on the water today as I look out of our front door

I'm never going back there
I'm never going back to the bad old world

Are you still scared of the future? Well, that doesn't surprise me
You could come up and stay here a while, back off from the killing wheel,
I used to think it was me who'd somehow sold out or given in on some almighty cause,
But what difference would it make? It feels good to be out here.

I'm never going back there
I'm never going back to the bad old world
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:40, 3 replies)

This thread needs cheering up....look a kitten...

(Tugnut Ex of this parish, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:38, 6 replies)

Dear Emerson, Lake and Palmer
I know I was very young, but I had such high hopes... The Nice... King Crimson... Atomic Rooster...

The eponymous first album was promising. But for the next three or four years you made me waste my pocketmoney on your tedious, pretentious drivel, get beaten up at school for wearing an ELP badge and you generally fucked my adolescent life up. Do you have any idea how hard it was for an ELP fan to get a date, let alone a snog?

I hold you responsible for the fact that I 'went punk' at the earliest opportunity and wasted yet more money on stupid clothes, haircuts and - *shudders* - eyeliner.

Yours more in sorrow than anger,

MisterPunch
( MisterPunch did it that way on, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:21, 5 replies)

Dear Sleep,
Pththththththppt!

E. A. P.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:08, 1 reply)

Dear Ludo (My Cat)

Just because you came through the cat flap into the kitchen and found that it had been ripped out in preparation for the new one, it doesn't mean you got the wrong house.

You can come home now, it's been 2 days!

P.s. I've got you some tuna as a treat.
(Kip, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:06, 4 replies)

Dear C,
I know we haven't spoken for a while, and I guess that's down to a lot of reasons. Well, split 50/50 between me being half the country away now and never wanting to see your face (apparently now with shaven head) again.

But this isn't a bitter letter, I actually want to thank you for the positives that came from our (incredibly brief considering the effect it had on me) relationship.

Thanks for cutting me off from my friends as best you could - it brought me and them closer in the end, and taught me they're always going to be there for me.

Thanks for the sex - sex is nice.

Thanks for punching me in the throat - this one is a bit more tenuous but it taught me that physical pain isn't the be all and all, and it made me look cool in front of everyone in school because I didn't flinch.

Thanks for cheating on me with your half-brother - This taught me deal with emotional pain, and left me with a repulsive tale to regale friends and strangers alike with.

Thanks for going off the rails when I finally manned up and dumped you - this made me feel secretly good about myself. Maybe life without me isn't worth living.

p.s you being a slaggy drug addict now makes me happy

(because if your first b3ta post isn't going to be pseudo-emotional claptrap, what is it gonna be?)
(6 Garden Lane Heaton, Bradford, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 15:01, 7 replies)

Wedding Costs - Tight Scotsman alert.
Friend I've been fucking, invites me to a wedding 400 miles away. I caught a bus & train to meet him & waited 2hrs for him to meet me because he messed up his sat nav in a rush hour stand-still. I put up with his insanity, road rage & his interest in others, meaning I had to look after myself in a social situation where I knew nobody. All accommodation was free & I did 8hrs driving that weekend because he was tired. He sends me an invoice for £165 by email (entitled above) to cover half petrol costs and my drinks (£50 + £15) the other £100 he thew in by a miscalculation (his degree is in economics, WTF?). The email never even started with a 'Hello' & I was never thanked for accompanying him or for driving. Now he's less of a friend & more of a fuck... I should've given up straddling the Jock's cock for Lent & sent him this:

Dear John,

It is with great regret that I must inform you of my refusal to accept your latest request.
I was lead to believe that you held some form of higher education, with a speciality in accountancy. It is of my opinion however, that this has not manifested itself in our recent communications.

Based on experiences in our previous 'arrangements', I feel that there is no personal advantage to furthering any relations between us and will be therefore withdrawing myself from the possibility of such.

Should you feel that any miscarriage of justice has occurred and wish to proceed with any grievance(s); I am confident that you can find a way in which to air this appropriately and in a respectable manner which suits both parties, that you have the ability to contact me through the correct channels and that you will do so without neglecting to seek suitable advice.

Perhaps our paths may cross again when we are both a little wiser.

I wish you greater success for the future.

Goodbye.

Sincerely,


XXXXX.

The amazing woman you've been using regularly and will never have the pleasure of truly knowing.

x

PS. Thank-you for introducing me to girl2 this week, where you hoping for a threesome? GTFO & RTFM!
(FoxyBox has mange, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 14:38, 15 replies)

Dear B3ta
Please stop writing MTFU in every 3rd post. Especially if you're a bird.
( Not Pineapple anymore, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 14:35, 14 replies)

To my son, born 28th February 2010
To my darling beautiful son,

It's been a week and a half since I gave birth to you, and I just want you to know just how proud I am of you. How much I love you. How perfect you are.

You have your dad's face, you know that? You should know, I told you a million times, I'm sure. But my nose. You were always going to have my nose - there's no way you were getting out of it. It's a good nose. Your perfect little arms and legs, all long and gangly, they're your dad's. Your feet, your hands... Perfect.

I cherish every moment of my pregnancy, every little kick I felt. Even the times you would scare me by not kicking for a while, then trying to karate-chop your way out of me when I got too worried. I even cherish the heartburn you were responsible for!

You're so loved, little one. I spent the whole two days we were in hospital after you were born stroking your little face, amazed by your soft skin. Your dad had a lot of cuddles when I could bring myself to give you up.

I'm not sure I'll ever understand why your heart stopped beating while you were inside of me. Even if all the tests they did on the two of us show a medical reason, I'll never know why I was fated to be the mummy of a stillborn child. I'll never know why I had to plan a funeral for my baby when I was meant to still be pregnant.

I'm happy I was able to give you life inside me, that you seem to have died happy. At 32 weeks, you would have discovered dreams recently. I hope they were nice, baby boy. Did you dream about me like I did you? Could you hear me planning for your birth? Are you as proud of me as I am of you?

I'm glad we were allowed that time with you - I never knew that I would be allowed to keep you in the room with me after you were born. I'm glad we got a lot of photos of you. Do you know that the photographer that came and took your photo is putting some up for selection in an exhibition especially for pictures of sick or stillborn children? Your dad and I are so incredibly proud of that fact - even someone who sees a lot of children all the time knows how beautiful you are!

I was so scared every time someone would come into the room, thinking they were coming to take you away from me. Having to walk away from that hospital room was the hardest part of my life up to that point - it's now been succeeded by having to place the lid on your coffin.

I can still see your little face when I close my eyes. I hope those images never fade away. I hope I never forget the feeling of your sweet soft skin under my fingertips. I hope I continue to smell your scent in quiet moments. I know I'll never forget you.

It's been a week and a half since I gave birth to you, and I'm sure you know how proud I am of you. How much I love you. How perfect you are, even in death.

Love always,
Your mummy.
(EasilyRecognisable I’m back baby, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 14:26, 31 replies)

Dear John...
...How I hate to write
But I must let you know tonight
That my love for you has gone
So I'm sending you this song
Tonight, I'm with another...
I think you'll like him John; He's your brother

Thinking of you forever, dear John.

Jasper Carrot's Commercial Breakdown
(likeajackhammer, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 14:02, 2 replies)

Dear Amy
You don't know me. You probably have the vaguest idea that I even exist. I'm your dad. And I have just two words I'd like to say to you.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that your mum and I fought constantly when she was expecting you. I'm sorry that I did some things that I'm not proud of.

I'm sorry that when I went to the hospital about the time I knew you were due to be born your mum refused to see me.

I'm sorry about the fact that I only found out I had a daughter a month after you were born when a friend of your mothers came into my work.

I'm sorry that your mother had taken to telling people that she had a one night stand and didn't know who your father was, despite this being an obvious lie.

I'm sorry for not knowing your exact date of birth. I'm sorry that this leads me to be depressed the last week of May and the first week of June.

I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you growing up. I'm sorry that I couldn't sit down with you and watch the return of Dr Who, a show I loved as a child and wanted to share with you.

I'm sorry that I couldn't pass on my love of reading and introduce you to Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, His Dark Materials and others.

I'm sorry that I never got to introduce you to Johnny Cash, Belle & Sebastian, The Beatles, The Rolling Stones and other favourite bands of mine.

I'm sorry that I didn't get to watch Toy Story, Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory and other favourite films.

I'm sorry that you haven't got to meet your grandmother, grandfather, aunt or either uncle. I'm sorry that you didn't get to attend your aunts wedding.

I'm sorry that you didn't get to meet your great grandmother or great grandfather before they passed away. I'm sorry that I haven't got to take you to Sandhaven, still for my money the most beautiful place in the world.

I'm sorry that I got drunk one night after watching Pushing Daisies and looked your mother up on Facebook. I'm sorry that this led me to her myspace where I finally found out your name and what you look like.

I'm sorry that the only pic of you I have, both in my wallet and on my wall, is one I got a friend to crop your mother out of.

I'm sorry that you don't know that I have your name tattooed on my left wrist. I'm sorry that you don't know that any other children I have will be tattooed on my right arm, the left being solely for you.

I'm sorry for joking that the migraines you suffer have a bright side in that you can't sit through an entire Westlife concert.

I'm sorry that I haven't had the guts to try and get in touch with you, not knowing what your mum has told you and not wanting to risk upsetting or unsettling you.

There are a couple of things for which I'm NOT sorry however.

I'm not sorry for thinking about you every single day since you were born. I'm not sorry for loving you, even if I'm not able to demonstrate it.

With all the love I have,

Your father.
(williamthebloody, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 13:43, 12 replies)

To my father-in-law

Bastard. We've never met, and for your sake, I hope it stays that way.

My question to you is: why did you choose to abuse your daughters? No, I don't want your filthy excuses. I don't care if you were buggered by your imam when you were a lad in Cyprus, I don't care if you were beaten black and blue by your father. You chose to pass this on and get your 'revenge' on those least able to fight back and least able to cope with it. You must have known that you were destroying their lives - or the lives they could have had, you knew you were betraying the deepest trust given to any of us - the care of our children.

I want you to know that this daughter wasn't destroyed, she was damaged and her trust is so fragile that it hurts, and it takes all my power sometimes to keep it in place. But she survived, and she got herself to university and got a good degree and met a man who valued her and cherished her and gave her some hope.

And she became a mother and was a wonderful mother. Our daughter is a wonderful person, a joy to us both - warm, loving, thoughtful, intelligent, beautiful, strong, hard-working, independent. And YOU will never see her. Ever.

I hope you die thinking about the treatment you got in Wormwood Scrubs in the 1970s when 'committing incest' would have resulted in piss in all your food, casual beatings every day, insertions in the showers and 24 hours of hate directed your way by unpleasant people that thought you were beneath them.

When Xena told about you, she saved her little sisters from the same fate, she saved herself and her older sisters from more abuse and her brothers from your violence.

Thirty years you've had to ponder your choices. Have you repented? Do you cry to God to forgive you? Do you wail and beat your chest? Keep trying, because it hasn't worked yet.

I hate you.

Che
(Che Grimsdale Best before:, Tue 9 Mar 2010, 13:42, 2 replies)