Dear Ms. Wilde

Re 2-6-5-8-0

Would you believe Ms. Wilde I have just had the same ding dong with City Boy who are also insisting that the dialling of 5 numbers without a prefix somehow inexplicably results in a successful connection.

Nevertheless we are more concerned with the central protagonist of your ''ska 'masseur' classic'' who whilst sitting in the park circles an ad whilst reading dirty papers (hopefully not a Daily Mail which has been dropped into a nearby pond or puddle, but a Sunday Sport, which is quite grubby enough without the need to be dragged through the mud).

After establishing contact with the ''pretty young girl who does not have to make her money that way'' you then describe her ‘client’s’ demeanour upon presenting himself at her boudoir. I am not sure where you live Ms. Wilde but can assure you that round our way they are the size of Yorkshire Terriers with tails like extension cables and totally fearless, even being known to swipe entire foot long Subways from under the very noses of similarly flashy-suited estate agents on benches on their lunchbreaks. We therefore feel your observing that that this guy arrives looking scared as a rat to be an instance in which you’ll never been so wrong, not for a long time, Ms. Wilde

I do hope that I can ‘solicit’ a response from you without fear of us “Falling Out''




Derek Philpott (& Son)



©2009-2014 Dawson-Rice | Website designed with the splendid help of Oast One.