Dear Elizabeth,

Forgive the intrusion of this long overdue letter.  How many years has it been? Fifteen at least I’m guessing and not a word exchanged twixt the pair of us in all that time! How very young and foolish we were to allow that little incident of the wretched jelly fish sting in St Topez to come between us. Naive as I was back then how was I to know that pouring a 10 litre bucket of balsamic vinegar over your infected torso was no ‘cure all’, indeed was an old wives’ tale and would cause you so much additional agony.  On reflection maybe it would have been better had you kept your bikini top on when you went swimming!  I do trust those scars eventually healed though. Still what is done is done. Plainly I should not have posted the snaps I took of you at the time on Facebook…for that I plead guilty and once more beg your forgiveness. Mind you I’d never had a million ‘likes’ and seventy thousand ‘shares’ before. Viral or what! I’d be a liar if I said otherwise than that I was rather chuffed.

Whatever, I imagine you are wondering as to exactly why I have chosen now to get in touch? Well the thing is I was reading The Times Literary Supplement just the other day wherein I spotted a review of the book of poetry you always promised yourself you’d write. I must say the critics have been most generous with their praise. “A masterful collection that will endure” – doesn’t get much better than that in my book, not that I’ve written one of course. Odd though your choice of title for your compilation, vis a vis ‘My Life with a Complete and Utter Bastard Womanizer’…can I take it that I am, as it were, your muse? The thought came to me when I stumbled across one particular poem that struck a chord;


Blindfolded the carnal acrobat juggles fresh eggs

walking a high wire contrived of braided heart strings

each exquisite strand filched from an abandoned lover

Magnetic the aura of the one who attracts opposites so

triggering innermost voltaic tremors arousing elicit longings

such sweet torture beyond restraint too much for the bonded ones

flocking as lemmings to cliffs edge irresistible flight of foolish whim

Plainly this tidy little number could only be based upon me…couldn’t it? After all my reputation as a bit of a ‘stud’ does rather go before me!

I still miss you so very much and trust that one day in the not too distant future we may be able to meet up over a bottle of plonk and talk over old times…maybe…well best not push my luck…maybe though!

Yours, the one of encyclopaedic dexterity in and out of the sack

Twattersley Fromage

Dear Twattersley, 

Given that you are and always will be a puffed up supercilious rake I knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself…that as soon as I published you would be in touch with the haste of a rat up a drainpipe in an attempt to worm your evil way back into my affections. As ever you are blithely unaware of your romantic shortcomings. Tosser! 

However you can take it that in a perverse sort of way I am ‘pleased’ to hear from you, you see I’ve got your address at last and armed with that little piece of information I can finally ensure you get your comeuppance!  Oh the things I will do to you not even you can imagine. You’ve never paid the price for breaking this girl’s heart. 

I take it you are still shagging floozies like there’s no tomorrow you two timing love rat scum bag. 

See you about and best you sleep with one eye open, 


Dearest Sweet Elizabeth,

That you did respond means you still have a pulse and as you well know a pulse is all I ask for in a gal! What a result though…you’re more than welcome to pop over to my gaff on Saturday evening then. I shall even don my best Y-Fronts…how’s that for an old romantic then!

Had to take a cold shower when I read the bits about ‘the things’ you will do to me and your very mention of ‘perverse’ made me go all funny about my parts.

So glad you don’t hold a grudge and that I’m on a promise. Crumbs you’ve fairly put a spring in my step.

All my love,




  1. Hahahahahaha. Everything about this had me, (as can be seen), genuinely, laughing very loudly,
    ‘how was I to know that pouring a 10 litre bucket of balsamic vinegar over your infected torso was no ‘cure all’ – and – ‘My Life with a Complete and Utter Bastard Womanizer’ – especially. Brilliant piece. *more laughter*

    – sonmi upon the Cloud

    1. My wife had me tone it down a bit…her view the original was perhaps on the cusp of pornographic! If only I could spell she wouldn’t get the proof reading gig and all would be well!

  2. Pure genius! May I tell you that I no longer drink anything while reading your posts. I either choke on my laughter or have soda spew out of my nose.

  3. Dear Elizabeth,

    Although the jury, did find you guilty of murdering Twattersley Fromage, we are choosing not to sentence you on the grounds that you paid a great service to the community. Rather, we choose to promote you as top secret security to her majesty The Queen in charge of taking care of puffed up supercilious rakes everywhere.

    Yours Truly.
    Whoever the hell would make such a decision in the U.K.

  4. Twattersley takes incorrigible to a new level. I with I had his skill for re-framing rejection and hatred. I might not get much farther in life but I suspect I’d have a lot more fun!

    1. I once employed an ignorant yet likeable young chap who as a matter of course would throw pathetic ‘chat up lines’ at a hundred gals knowing that one would take the bait. His sheer effort impressed!

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