Now I don't have much luck with my sex life
as you will see from here and here (previous letters I have posted on this hunting/shooting/fishing forum) I can't believe that I have found it necessary to write another stern letter.

Dear Mr Patel
I have been a patron of your newsagency for many years and have never found myself contemplating writing a letter of complaint but recent events and circumstances have forced me to take out my angry pen.

If you check your records you will see I have a daily order for the Times, Financial Times and our local evening newspaper. For the last three weeks I have had to make the journey to your shop to return copies of other newspapers which have been put through my letterbox.
Let me just qualify this. I have never, and will never order a copy of The Daily Mail. If I ever want to read this kind of racist propaganda I shall buy a copy of Mein Kampf. It is better written and less controversial.

While I applaud your decision to employ children of all abillities and disabillities I can't help thinking you may have picked the wrong children to work in this area. Here are my reasons. On Monday morning my sex life was disturbed again. My butler, Parsons, was collecting the milk from the staff/tradesman's entrance which is situated at the rear of the house. He was Dressed in just a dressing gown as it was only 06:30 hours and as he stooped to pick up the bottles he was startled by the noise of a bicycle attempting to cross the cattle grid at the main gate. Now it's a damn awkward contraption to cross in the Land Rover so how the young man thought he could attempt to navigate at speed this bloody obsticle is beyond me. The cycle managed to get about half way across before the front wheel was bent and became wedged between two of the cross beams of the grid. This caused the cycle to stop dead throwing the rider over the handlebars and knocking Slater, the gardener, off the ride-on lawnmower. Slater landed face down in the drive and was trampled on by my daughter who was riding her second favourite horse back to the stables following a jaunt into the village in a deliberate and humourous attempt to annoy oik drivers on their way to work. Sometimes I take the hosebox out for similar pleasures although my latest game is to drive my new Rolls Royce to the local Lydl supermarket displaying a sticker on the rear window which reads, "What Recession?" Bloody good fun. Arf!

Meanwhile the lawnmower was still on the move and heading for the house. Parsons attempted to stop the machine by jumping on but unfortunately the cord from his dressing gown became wedged around the cutting cylider pulling him tightly backwards into the seat. His arms both firmly stuck downwards were unable to grasp the steering and the thottle was forced into the maximum position. The mower then gained momentum and headed across the lawn and towards the rear of the house, mowing down three peacocks and a curious cat in the process. As the uncontrollable machine continued to speed towards the staff doorway the blades cut through the cord catapulting Parsons off and into the roof of one of the greehouses used by my son who has developed an interst in growing rare and exotic plants.

At this point in time the postman arrived in his van which began the long journey up the main driveway. He noticed the paperboy laying bleeding and broken by the gate next to a rather large and fresh pile of horse droppings. As he neared the rear of the property he was greeted by the now driverless lawnmower heading directly towards him, causing him to swerve and crashing into the ornamental pool in the Japanese garden.
The postman was unhurt although several priceless koy carp were squashed. The mower then struck the staff door bursting it inwards.

My wife's maid, Tanya, was behind the door at the time still dressed in her night attire stooped down to feed the cats. As the door burst in the large brass doorknob found its way into the vagina of the poor girl at some speed. Now at the time of all this kefuffle, I was enjoying some foreplay with my wife who had agreed to inercourse that morning. This is not something which happens very often. We were in a 69 position when the crash happened. At this point my wife bit my chap and shat in my face causing severe lacerations and an embarrasing visit to A&E.

This chain of events has angered me very much. A chap only gets his hole every year or so these days and this now I have to wait until September of next year. On this day I shall be cancelling my newspaper delivery as an act of caution. As I said while I applaud your giving those less fortunate a chace to earn some money, the boy employed on this occasion should never have been allowed on a bicyle in the first place. I got a letter from his mother yesterday who tells me he has now returned to the blind downs syndrome children's home where he has made a full recovery. Parsons has left my employ now and I am told his wounds have more or less healed and he shows them off regularly in his new career as a children's entertainer. Slater has never really recovered from his ordeal and now sits in a pile of his own dung in his room playing an endless loop of so called 'music' from the popular beat combo, My Chemical Romance.

Please find suitable staff to deliver our papers and you may like to take note that the letterbox is 4 foot high so don't take on any flids. My wife and I would also like to take the opportunity to offer our sympathies to the family of the young girl who was shot last wednesday. I did tell you we were shooting grouse that morning and we did issue regular audible warnings which of course, being deaf, she did not hear. One final point of issue. Would you please, as I have instructed, please place my monthly magazine order, Razzle into a large plain envalope and mark it 'private and confidential' and marked for my personal attention.

Captn' Horatio Clutterbuck Hood-Butter III (ret) _{VC VD and Bar}

( Captn Hood-Butter is not dead yet., Wed 10 Mar 2010, 14:33, 3 replies)

Arf!
Superb stuff what, have a jolly good click there old boy.
(robbersdog, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 14:42, closed)

This
Reads like a set piece from a Tom Holt novel. That is a good thing.
( MatJ LOOK, Wed 10 Mar 2010, 16:14, closed)

"Sometimes I take the hosebox out for similar pleasures"
That's no way to talk about the Lady of the Manor
( Snappyuk gets BIGGER with free sample., Wed 10 Mar 2010, 21:32, closed)