Dear Dreary
Some Wombles have just moved in next door to us on the estate and quite frankly me and the wife, my mam, me dad, our Chantelle, Beefy, little Ashley, Bastard the dog and the rest of the estate want them evicting.
Our back garden was always full of beer cans, nappies, pot noodles, dog shit, the rats loved it and it was always somewhere for the kids to play. We woke up one morning to find a beautiful landscaped lawn, a swing and slide, a water feature, sandpit, gas bbq, chiminere, deck chairs and a new bird table.
I went out one morning to the park with a bottle of three hammers under me arm and gazed up at the boarded up windows, a smile on me face, thinking about when our Janice threw us through it the week before. Well! Her mum came on to me, wasn't my fault she fell on me cock!
Anyhow, when I staggered home later I couldn't believe my eyes.
Some....... TW*T had fitted double glazing, to front and rear AND had the garden fence fixed and creosoted!
I was fumin'! We called the police. We had to 'knock on' and borrow the Wombles phone. They were very nice about it. The coppers came around and didn't do owt! One of em asked Wellington for a quote on extending his allotment!
We want our estate back Dreary!
We want these do gooders out!
Please help,
Yours,
Gaz 'what you looking at' McShifty.
The Estate.
Plumbe.
Dear Gaz.
How very upsetting all this must have been for your family. One, naturally, becomes accustomed to one's surroundings and cherished home comforts, and you would not expect to have to deal with such blatant abuse without good cause. I am not in a position to lay definite blame in a precise location, you understand, but i suspect you may be surprised who the culprits are.
The BBC are under increasing pressure to use the license fee wisely, and are now scraping the barrel somewhat in their relentless pursuit of mind-numbing reality tv. So much so that they have re-united Alan Tutcharse, Tommy the porky builder, and Charlie Mammories for one last moronic stab at quickfire ratings.
Their latest show is called "Renovate SOS (Save Our Scumbags)", where a team of mystery builders and no-mark busybodies turn up unannounced at your dingy dwelling and upgrade it before you have chance to get out of bed at teatime.
The theory is, it allows the audience an opportunity to peruse other scumbags' shit and then observe their bemused, horrified reactions when they finally awake from their pot-filled slumbers.
Just imagine. Its half four in the afternoon, and you stagger out of your back door, in your spiderman onesie, to fill the recycling bin with your morning empties, when Tutcharse and film crew pounce on you, demanding your response to their unwanted handywork.
What a nightmare. On the pilot show, apparently, Alan was floored by a single punch from some irate granny scummer. Can you imagine the ratings??
It will be the modern day equivalent of bear baiting.
And the BBC won't stop there. It will no doubt want to take advantage of its latest idea and add to its never ending supply of cookery programmes.
I can envisage " The Hairy Scroungers", "Masterchav", and even "Nigella Does Scrotes".
What a prospect.
You may need to invest in an extra Staffy.
Love, D.