Archive for July, 2020

Friday, July 31st, 2020

 

You get bored, don’t you? Doing the same thing day in day out for a hundred years, and then you die and go to Hell where you find yourself doing it all over again. The same thing. Nothing’s changed. And you thought coming back as a cockroach or a sausage roll was going to be your punishment.

Thursday, July 30th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I am hoping you will be able to settle a dispute that has rendered our family dining experience unsettling, to put it mildly. I maintain that the predominant metrical pattern of contemporary British poetry is the Alexandrian-Petrarchan-Caesarean pentameter with an occasional sprinkling of Herculean-cum-Poirotean dactylic right shoe. Lady Ipswich Borough Council contends that it is a Shakespearian-Miltonic hybrid moderated by a constrained enjambment and a deft use of the trochee when it is convenient. The situation is confused by the opinion of Miguel, our butler, who when asked for his opinion suggested that British poets did not really understand any metre more complex than the iambic foot.

Yours,
Lord Ipswich de Pointless etc.

Wednesday, July 29th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I am conducting research for a book I am writing which exposes the corruption, nepotism, and general miserable state of British poetry since 1966, when we won the World Cup thanks to the lads from West Ham. I wonder if you could give me the addresses of all the British poets you know. I hereby undertake not to visit them where they live and hurl abuse at them from the street until the police arrive to take me away.

Yours,
Alfred Christine Charlemagne

Tuesday, July 28th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

Do you know when Lux Massage is going to re-open? I have been telephoning them non-stop for several days but there is no reply. You would have thought they might have an answering machine, but evidently they do not – unless it’s not switched on.

Yours,
Sid (“Slip Me One”) Sideways

p.s. I enclose a sonnet I wrote recently, called “Trixie’s Magic Touch”.

Monday, July 27th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I have recently been left a spectacularly huge amount of money by an aged (and now dead) uncle, and wish to use some of it to support a needy poet. I have always been an admirer of verse, and am aware that most poets are quite poor – understandably, for the most part. I wonder if you might recommend one or two “candidates” for whom an annual stipend of some several thousands of pounds would mean the prevention of starvation and penury?

Yours,
Trixie McManamanamanamanaman etc. (Miss)

Sunday, July 26th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I am not happy with this new “Letters to the Editor” feature. Please get back to doing what you do best – nonsense.

Yours,
Boris Johnson, Prime Minister

Saturday, July 25th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I am led to believe that you are acquainted with the Poet Lariat. If I were to invite you to tea, could you bring him along with you? It would have to be before next Friday, because on that day some men are coming to lay the paving slabs for our new patio, and after that I shall have nowhere to dig unless I sacrifice some vegetables, which would be a step too far.

We look forward to hearing from you.

Yours,
Q. & A. O’Tool-Linnet (Mr. & Mrs.)

Friday, July 24th, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I wish to take issue with your correspondents Ms. Parasol and Mr. Corset. Poetry is fab. It is imperative in the modern era of fake truth and populist populism that language is interrogated and dismantled in order that it can be reassembled to establish a radical new order of discourse which may subsequently engender a wide variety of symposia within an academic framework. Also, if you wish to slum it, there are “slams”, which are a hoot, and places where you can meet people of other genders.

I am taking this opportunity to send you a selection of my recent poems, and you are very welcome to publish them.

Yours,
V. W. Campervan

p.s. There is nothing inherently wrong with masturbation, mutual or otherwise. It has not done me any harm.

Thursday, July 23rd, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I refer to the letter you published yesterday from Ms. Parasol (Headmistress). During the course of my long and, dare I say it, illustrious career, I have read a lot of poems and met a lot of poets and several of them (poems and poets both) were a delight, but I would go a step or two further than Ms. Parasol and assert that most of today’s so-called “bards” belong in a very deep pit where they can masturbate each other to death for all I care. I would not miss them or their “verse”.

Yours,
Bartholomew Corset (Manager)

Wednesday, July 22nd, 2020

 

LETTERS TO THE EDITOR

Sir,

I wonder if I am I alone in finding the bulk of the contemporary poetry I come across tedious and uninteresting. In a word: Boring. It is the lack of imagination that depresses me. Also, many of the poems appear to consist of words and phrases stolen from somewhere else. There is also a pronounced absence of wit and jokes. Oh, and let us not forget the writing, which is often simply bad. I am sure that probably the poets are decent people, by and large, but could not they find something else to do?

Yours,
Cressida Parasol (Headmistress)