Dear Mr Bragg

Re: The Milkman of Human Kindness

Whilst it is most refreshing to happen upon such a benevolently magnanimous popstar willing and able to reciprocate to the general public in recognition of the money spent on concert tickets, records and merchandise, I fear that your delivery service has been, if you pardon the pun, ‘soured’ by the nefarious activities of an unseen interloping nemesis.

Before I expand upon my suspicions however, I hope you will indulge my elucidations germane to several perceived dissimilitudes within your sparse disclosure.

Much as I appreciate the sentiments of your offering to send poetry if I am poorly, I fail to grasp the pharmaceutical merits of iambic pentameter. Admittedly I was once briefly hospitalised after contracting food poisoning courtesy of an undercooked lamb dopiaza in a restaurant that I no longer patronise and found my constitution strengthened considerably by the kind 1978 paperback gift of The Thoughts of a Late Night Knitter from a wellwisher. However, to posit that my speedy recovery was thanks not to intravenous saline rehydration and the excellent medical team and attention received at The Royal Bournemouth and Christchurch Hospital , but the holistic placebo that was the piquantly droll Pam Ayres stanza compendium is, at best, contentious.

You also state that you will wait whilst I am sleeping, If I am honest I find this intendedly municificent proposal to be more than just a little disquieting, to the extent that I very much doubt I would be able to even achieve a state of absent consciousness if aware of your potential abiding presence at some later juncture during slumber (especially due to the fact that I have recently viewed ‘Paranormal Activity’ on Netflix and am reminded of a particularly harrowing scene). Indeed your further propoundment vis a vis that you will dry my tears if my bed was wet could well be interconnected with the former on the basis that were I in fact to stir and witness you or any other protest singer unexpectedly looming over me in my own home then nocturnal enuresis could well be a likely side-effect. In the case of such an involuntary but wholly understandable mattress moistening, I apologise but some fresh linen, a pocket Febreze and hairdryer set to high would be far preferable to the cheek and eye dabbing being proffered. Perhaps, all things considered it would be better all round for you to pop home and then return around 9am, at which time I am usually up and dressed and ready for breakfast.

My wife Jean and I have taken to ordering our weekly shop via Ocado Online. This makes the whole business of selecting groceries a lot easier, as we can do so from the comfort of our living room and do not have to worry about traffic and parking. Unfortunately a consequence of this ‘life style change’ is that we no longer rely on Unigate to supply us with our regular four cartons of semi-skimmed, but simply add this to our internet ‘basket’. effectively rendering you redundant. It would also seem that you are delivering milk extracted from the altruism of homo sapiens, and I am at a bit of a loss as to exactly how such a decorum could be bottled.

For these reasons, and despite your introductory promotion, I am afraid we have chosen to remain with our current suppliers. Not withstanding this impersonal rebuttal it appears from your estuarial vocal that you have already frequented our doorstep and, having just checked outside my porch, I regret to advise that it appears that the consignment has been pilfered, leading one to naturally conclude that you have a vindictive rival in the form a Thief of Human Kindness

I wish you luck in apprehending the bounder.


Derek Philpott




Reply from Mr. Bragg, received 23/6/2014


Dear Mr Deckpot.

Thank you for your litter.

I fear you may have been the result of a misconception.

The offers made to you in my song ‘The Milkman of Human Kindness’ are non-negotiable as stated in the terms and conditions of my


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