Respected Sir.....

" Respected Sir,
                        I am normally a patient, calm, citizen, only getting a triffle agitated, when boundary catches are dropped, warm beer is served and Edward 'Weddingband' comes on the goggle-box.
 But enough is enough. I feel compelled to send this missile to your worthy newspaper; in the hope that, in  doing so, it will vent some of my bile.


The facts are these: Last Friday , on the first  of July, I was taking the dogs Macmillian and Eden for their morning constitutional. I was just getting over a bout of the 'Delhi Belly', blowing hot and cold, so to speak, when upon  an green island , by the Pub, I espied a bunch of job-seekers and general slackers. They were smoking, leaning against vehicles, playing with  'boy-toys', taking up the oxygen and making the place look untidy.


Putting my dogs on full alert, I made my way through this motley bunch, until I was stopped by a Johnnie Jobsworth, with a security badge, next to a Road Closed sign.
" I'm sorry sir, you can't walk this way, the road is closed "


  " Another gas leak, bit early for the local Hunt and those Saboteurs," I enquired


  " I'm  sorry sir, I can't say ." thrusting an official paper forward.


     " When will the road be open again ? " 


" Seven 'o' clock this evening," he replied, scratching his nose; " of course if you live in this village I can grant you access to your property."


" Generous to a fault, but I live in West Leech. "


 " Sorry then Sir."


There was nothing for it , I made my back to the Manse, pondering whether Camilla was moving house to the quality county of Oxfordshire; or could it be some new venue for  Nick Fence and his party.


Imagine, then my total revulsion and disgust, when I found out from the Memsahib, that the closure was due to Stirling's daughter Kate's marriage nuptials, at the local church and later in the village.


If that was not bad enough, without the Parson's permission, she has brought a mansion here, which will be the base for her reception.


Now, as I  have said, I'm a calm, patient , tax- paying (keep the 'Boy George' happy), English citizen, but this whole affair has made my blood boil and the beta-blockers on full alarm mode.
Why has my right to roam being denied?  Why must my dogs suffer? Just because some Popsicle is on 'heat', village life must cease for a day; not to mention the invasion of those low-life scribblers (present readers exempted ), to our local community.


Respected Sir, If you hear of any further celebrity wedding events in the Cotswolds, perhaps through the medium of your paper, you can remind them of the bracing air and photo opportunities to be had in Mid-Wales; with the added value, to be had from the massed chapel choirs, serenading the couple en-route to the airport.


I'm glad I've got this matter off my chest. I'm now beginning to breathe slower and after this afternoon's Martini; all should be pucker again.
  


Yours Faithfully, 
------- "


The above spoof is dedicated to the memory of the Late Vivian Stanshall and the Late Peter Tinniswood, who kept the torch of Albion burning.

Ck.