Dear Jona Lewie

Re: You'll Always Find Me In The Kitchen At Parties

I quote:

 

"I´m no good at chatting up and I always get rebuffed
Enough to drive a man to drink I don´t do no washing up....
I always leave the stuff piled up, a-piled up in the sink
But you always find him in the kitchen at parties"

Throughout my life I have attended many social gatherings, from anniversaries, birthdays and charity fundraisers to the 'leaving do' of my erstwhile work compadre Willy "Won't He" Wallace and the 'wrap bash' of an ITV ''situation comedy'' that I was allowed into because the father of one of my son's friends was one of show's 'schoolchildren' in it at the time.

I can categorically confirm, Mr. Lewie, that I have never encountered your good self in the food preparation area of any of these jamborees, the closest namesake being a John Lewis teatowel on a draining board at a 50th which I have deduced must be extraneous on the grounds of your frowzy aversion to post-meal asepsis, as languidly imparted within your above-adduced 'Sprechgesang synthpop number'.

Didactedly speaking, even were I to happen upon you in even one culinary area, such a singular congress could not in any way be construed as interminable.

By your own admission Mr. Lewie, you have taken assuagement in alcohol as a means of contending with latent courtier-spurnings causatum of exiguous savoire faire, and if you will exculpate my bumptiousness, your increasing dipsomania seems sadly to have addled you to the extent that you now believe yourself to have been a draftee in manifold conflicts hundreds of years apart. Thankfully for you fellow combatants your befuddled misapprehension is delusionary. Were this not to be the case I would be extremely concerned with the morale deflation and detrimental psychological effects that your feeble dragoon detachment cessation appeals to the Prime Minister, just so that you can spend the festive period at home, could be taking upon your comrades on the front line.


I would also sincerely hope that you would not attempt to alleviate the repressive atmosphere of your predicament by ensconcing yourself in the cooking zone of a 'mess' (not to be confused with the myriad of pots, pans and plates that you so resolutely refuse to rinse) whose regiment you have persuaded to partake in raucous merry-making. I would ask you to remember, Mr. Lewie, that in a battle situation, complete silence when approaching or in auditory range of the foe is paramount in order to avoid the inevitability of giving one's position away to said enemy.


On a lighter note, my wife Jean and I, accompanied by our neighbours Wilf and Olve Turnbull and Gordon and Nora Gilliard, went for a most enjoyable Sunday lunch at a highly popular family 'eatery' on Christchurch Road last weekeend. After a few too many "Toby Tasters", followed by generously piling my plate high on no less than three visits to the heated buffet, Gordon asked me if I had room for one more sitting. I replied that, on the contrary, I was quite happy for them to "Stop The Carvery"!

 

Although I wish you luck with your new album, I wil thank you to avoid the inclusion of further "New Wave Rock" glorifying crapulence-induced slovenly housekeeping and/or court martialable offences, for people to dance to in ''a new way''.

 

Yours

 

Derek Philpott

 

Reply from Jona Lewie received 1/5/2015

 

Dear Derek (and Wilf)

 

Thank you for this opportunity to indulge in the dying art of writing a letter which is becoming a dim relic of a previous society.

 

In reply to your letter we could argue that, whether we are on the seafront, in the trenches or at a social gathering, I could recommend certain stuffs should be entered into the body in order that the

 

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