Dear Dean Friedman
I was genuinely moved whilst listening to your heartfelt ballad on my ipod Walkman today, Mr. Friedman, both by its plaintive refrain and the ticket inspector who informed me that my ticket was not valid in a first class carriage.
At the risk of causing disappointment however, it is my considered opinion that your relationship with the young lady referred to within the piece should be terminated forthwith.
You clearly croon that Lydia keeps your toothbrush in her apartment and she never, or hardly ever, complains.
Personally I fail to see how the storage of any oral hygiene instrument could be the cause of grievance, unless:-
a) the tufts are contaminated with gingivitis or rotting meal remnants (both of which can only be transmitted via insertion into a mouth alternative to that of the petite dental broom's last known owner, at the latest user's own peril and without liability to the afore-mentioned originator)
b) it is of the electric variety and a fault originating from the base unit housing the built in charger now renders it a fire hazard
c) it is, unlike my own Medium Colgate Zig Zag Plus which I have just measured at six and a quarter inches in length and would not take up too much room in any 'condo' no matter how cluttered, an extremely bulksome 'novelty' specimen of the type seen wielded by Chris Evans in 'publicity stills' promoting his shaft mounted bristles recollection encouraging 'game show' and thus, perhaps, an unwelcome and pointless devourer of valuable storage space
More central to my estrangement recommendation however is the inescapable truth that your suitor seems to have formed an unhealthy infatuation attachment towards your compact incisor scrubbing device which is currently within her possession, and is convinced that the non-sentient celluloid stemmed synthetic fibre implanted cleansing utensil, the handle of which she does not appear to have gripped for quite some time, is actually a young male close to passing away. This is sadly proved by her referring to it as ''Boy'' and stating that she thought it was dead on account of it being so long since she had held it (itself an unorthodox parameter for gauging health, even in animate objects).
In conclusion, then, and contrary to your mournful chorus, I urge you to wrestle yourself from Lydia's command and offer her guidance as to the official channels appropriate to qualified psychiatric evaluation. I fully acknowledge that this is not more than you had planned, but, although you may be extremely well-matched (for reasons I will address in a moment), she has clearly displayed her potential for infidelity within a courtship, and hopefully the process should take its natural course. Please take great care not to disclose to any medical professional, as revealed within the rocking chair song, that you believe household furniture, radios, platforms protruding from the exteriors of buildings and crockery to be talking to you. It's not ''gonna be alright'.' I hope you will forgive me for stating, Mr. Friedman, that if your lucky stars are to be thanked for anything it is your own evasion thusfar from institutionalisation. You may well need a place a stay but I hope you will agree that an asylum is is far from ideal under any circumstances
I wish you all the best
Reply from Dean Friedman, received 7/2/14
Dear Derek Philpott,
I feel compelled to reply to your somewhat naive and clearly misinformed missive as regards my utilitarian relationship with Lydia.
Firstly, I'm dismayed by your blatantly prejudicial bent, when it comes to your unapologetic dismissal of 'so-called' inanimate or unsentient objects. Coming, as you do, from a country that