Dear Tears For Fears

Re: Head Over Heels

Although I am not adverse, per se, to the idea of a cup of tea and a chinwag within isolated environs, I am afraid I am rather perturbed by certain aspects of your desired rendezvous. I am not sure that the proposed secluded natter, especially in view of its scheduled subject matter, is one that I can be talked into at this time even with gentle persuasion, Sirs

I am sorry, Tears For Fears, but given that meteorological phenomena are experienced universally and are in no way secret, I am at a loss to understand the hazards of discussing drizzle or sunny spells confidentially for fear of the information leaking into the hands of eavesdropping third parties. Sadly the only conclusion to be drawn is that you are intending to engage me in discourse relating to chem-trails, cloud-seeding, ''climate engineering'' and other such atmospheric elements tampering conspiracy theories, aimed at exposing shadowy influential figures who want to rule the world.

I do not take stock in such an unsubstantiated mad world, Sirs, and hope that you are not at this time disoriented, as inferred within the chorus of your pop record.

In conclusion, if it is all the same to you, I am aware that you wanted to be with me alone and talk about the weather, but as a compromise would suggest that we meet in a Wetherspoons and talk about the state of the Premier League



D. Philpott

* does not relate to Cliff Richard manipulating downfall in order to sing ‘impromptu medley\, Centre Court, Wimbledon, 1996




Dear Mr Philpott, 

Re: Head Over Heels

While I empathise with your concerns, this song was written quite a while before we became so aware of global warming (some eminent politicians still believe it to be a false theory made up by the Chinese), and if you knew the true story behind those lyrics, you would take a far less harsh stance, I assure you. 

Now, I have to be very careful here, because the song was written for a lady who has gone on to become a household name. I first met her when she was a weather girl for a Saturday morning kids' show. There was no blue screen at the time to make her look like a pro, she merely had a large piece of card and, of course, a pointing stick. Naturally attractive due to her Scandinavian looks, I found it hard to approach her; I was a little nervous especially as she was taller than me and quite witty as well. Alas, my opening line was



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