Posts Tagged ‘Begging Letter’

Death by Begging Letter 3

August 27, 2010

Here is the begging letter that finally tipped me over into posthumousness.

Dear Cousin John,

After all of the incredulity and the mocking and the accusations of fraud, our predictions have proven well-founded. Your Uncle Ignatius has lost his left leg in a tragic three-legged race accident. It was terrible John, it really was. He’d got through to the regional semi-finals with his three-legged race partner, Professor Braintree, and was approaching the finishing line in first place, when their respective right and left legs, which were tied together, snagged on a hoop of wurzel-grass and came flying off. It was awful to see them hopping around in agony like a pair of deranged monopods, John, it really, really was.

Well you know your Uncle Ignatius’s generosity John. It knows no bounds. He offered Professor Braintree the £10,000 prosthetic leg you bought him right then and there. “Take it, Professor” he said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way”. Actually, it wasn’t too difficult for Ignatius, because he’s gone off the idea of having a prosthetic leg. He’s been reading up on it. Apparently they can be more of a hindrance than a help. And there is of course the stigma.

After all of the kind things you have done for your Uncle Ignatius, I really feel quite cheeky asking you for this. But I know that, for you, generosity is its own reward, so I’ll just spit it out: How would you feel about donating your left leg to your poor old Uncle Ignatius? You’ve always been quite an indoorsy person, with your reading and your silly little blog, whereas your Uncle Ignatius is more of a Captain Scott/Pele kind of person, with his three-legged races and his brisk walks and such. And you know he has always talked about doing charity work with children, which requires a lot of walking and squatting. It would be very difficult for him to attend to the little ones who desperately need his help if his big clunking prosthetic leg was always getting in the way. A real, flesh leg would be a real boon for him and the charity sector in general..

Please, take some time to think about it. It is a big decision and not one you should rush into (although the sooner you could get the leg to him the less likely he will be to bleed to death).

Thanks Cousin John. You’re a real star. You must come round for cake some time.

Your cousin,

Mifanwy

Death by Begging Letter 2

August 26, 2010

Here are some more of the begging letters that precipitated my early demise:

1) Dear John,

I’ve run out of sherbet lemons AGAIN. Send more “please”.

Fanny

2) Dear John,

When are you going to let me have a go with your dog? You know my mother won’t let me have one in the house. Why do you have to be such an ass about it? Just lend it me already.

Klaus

3) John old pal,

Do you remember my cousin Boris? He’s the one who’s worn the same T-shirt for 14 years and whose nose bled in your ghoulash that time when you came to visit the family but who only remembered to tell you after you ate it all? Ho ho. Good old Boris. What a character. Well his VISA is about to expire. It’s terrible. He’ll almost certainly lose his job at the mortuary. The doctor has said that there’s a 97% chance Aunty Ludwigia will have another mental breakdown if poor old Boris gets deported, and then there will be no one to look after little Vladimir and his 8 sisters.

But don’t worry John old pal, there is a gleam of hope, and that’s where you come in. How do you feel about entering into a civil partnership with old Boris? It’d just be for a few years until he gets his full citizenship. You’ll only have to sleep in the same bed  while ever the immigration officers are carrying out their overnight inspections to make sure you’re a bona fide couple. And Boris’s nosebleeds really aren’t half as profuse nor as lumpy as they were back when you last saw him. He’s quite a wit really. He’s got some great stories about the mortuary. You’ll be great together. The ceremony is tomorrow.

Cheers chum,

Pavlov

Death by Begging Letter

August 25, 2010

Recently, my head exploded, fatally. My post-mortem revealed that I had suffered an excess of pressure in my brain as a result of receiving too many begging letters from grasping relatives and friends. Here are a few of them:

1) Dear Cousin John,

Please send a cheque for £1500 immediately. Your Uncle Ignatius is in dire need of a prosthetic leg. No, don’t worry, he’s still got both of his legs. But it’s better to be prepared.

Love,

Your cousin,

Mifanwy

2) Dear Cousin John,

I’m afraid the worst has happened. Your Uncle Ignatius has lost the prosthetic leg you kindly bought him (he says to say thanks). Could you make out another cheque for £10,000? He says that he has a strong conviction that the cheaper £1500 models will irritate his stump, should part of his leg happen to be amputated or severed. The £10,000 ones are hypoallergenic. They’re the ones that the astronauts wear, John. I know it seems like a lot but it will really lift your Uncle Ignatius’s spirits to know that he is wearing what the astronauts wear, in the event that he loses his leg due to an unforeseen accident or gangrene infection or attack of flesh-eating bacteria. Also, could you make out a cheque for an additional £250 for a velvet-lined gilt-edged waterproof prosthetic leg trunk that he saw in the Argos catalogue, just in case he leaves it in the garden by mistake, like he did with those glass eyes you bought him that time. Also, could you send £35 for a thigh-master and £150 for a trampoline?

That’s £10, 435, John. Thanks.

Love

Your Cousin

Mifanwy.

3) Hey Bapster

How’s it going buddy? Yeah? Great! Listen, thanks for having me round for dinner the other day. Great trough man. Yeah.

Anyway, while I was round I couldn’t help but notice that in your passport photo you looked freakishly like me. Like we were twins or some shit. It got me to thinking, why bother forking out an arm and a leg (sorry to hear about your Uncle Ignatius by the way buddy) for a new passport, when I could just borrow yours. Have you seen how much it costs to get a new passport? It’s like £550. WTF? It’s crazy. Anyway man, you’d be doing me a real favour. I’ll only be out of the country for 3 months, if that. If you want to borrow my Police Academy or Cocoon box sets just say the word. I’d be happy to lend them to you.

Cheers buddy. I’ll come round tomorrow to pick it up.

Bradster

To be continued…