Dear Maudlin Noshery   Sad Cafe

Re: My Oh My

 

I was sorry to hear on Ken Bruce that you kept viewing The Fallen One on shiny surfaces after being laid up for nigh on 72 hours with a possible migraine in 1980. Close scrutiny of the circumstances surrounding said supposed archfiend reflections however indicates that ''it's just a question of time'' before your mind is put at rest.

By your own admission, miserable chophouse Sad Cafe,you state that you have been sick of laying up in this bed (you know) for three days or more to ease your head, and the T.V.’s always on by your side. You then continue that for some strange reason you got out of your bed and walked across the room, looked in the mirror, and saw the Devil; he was looking at you.

One suspects, depressed canteen Sad Cafe, that in your feverish state you did not, as you ''always knew that you would'', actually get as far as the toilet but instead confused the perpetually switched on television adjacent to your bed for the bathroom cabinet. That in your delirium you then mistook perhaps Timothy Cathchpole’s demonic jester in Rentaghost, Gene Simmons from Kiss, a quasi-Satanic totem with a rugby player inside on  It's A Knockout or, arguably the bloke off of Fingerbobs, as exclusive Beezlebub looking glass scrutiny is a perfectly forgiveable error.

''Don't criticise'', run down hashery Sad Cafe. This is actually very good news; ''I know you can take it'', and hope that you now see that there is no further need to ''cry oh cry''

 

Yours

 

Derek Philpott

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