Archive for the 'Letters' Category

The whole truth

December 30th, 2008

Dear God,

I know I haven’t been in touch lately and I apologise for that.

Anyway, I know you have been rather busy with the war between the Bssghyts and the Rtfdds over on that galaxy in Quadrant 42.

Here on Earth, we are fast approaching 2009 and this is traditionally a time for making resolutions, turning over new leaves and getting drunk.

I would like to ask a small favour.  I know people are always asking you for favourable exam results when they haven’t bothered their arses studying, or for their football team to win [like you give a shite about football?] or winning lottery numbers, but this is an altruistic request.  I don’t want anything for myself, but I would get a great laugh out of it, and it might improve our lot on the cesspit we call Earth.

All I want is for you to visit a plague upon the land.

I’m not talking about AIDS, or Ebola or any of that kind of stuff, because I would be afraid of collateral damage [that's what the American military euphemistically call it when they carelessly shoot one of their own!].  What I would like is well within your capabilities, and I think you’d get a laugh out of it too.

The plague I am looking for is a highly contagious disease that has only one symptom – it forces everyone to tell the truth.

I know there will be casualties.  There will be the unfortunate men who get asked by their partners "do I look fat in this?"  There will be a dramatic failure rate at interviews.  The Santa trade will vanish overnight.

But think of the other side of the coin?  There will be no more court cases, as the perpetrators of crimes will confess instantly.  All those crappy tabloid newspapers will instantly go out of business.  But the biggest laugh of all will be the politicians.  Boy, would I look forward to elections then!

On second thoughts though, I would have to tell Herself where I really was when I was supposed to be down in the pub.

That could be nasty.

Nah!

Forget I said anything.

Yours humbly,

Grandad

Happy birthday

December 27th, 2008

Happy Birthday, Dad.

If you had lived you would be 106 today.

Wherever you are, I hope you are well and enjoying whatever it is you do Up There.

Things have changed a little bit in the last thirty three years since you went on your last journey.

We have things like Climate Change, and the Interweb but the tap in the yard is still dripping.

Do you remember how we used to climb on the roof to twiddle the television aerial to try to pick up a signal?  Well, we now have a little dish thing up there and can pick up as many television channels as we want.  Hundreds of television stations.  And they are all shite.

One of the really big innovations that has come along is the computer.  It is like a little television that is connected to a typewriter.  You type away on the typewriter and letters and things appear on the television screen.  There are things called programmes that you put in so that you can get it to do specific tasks, like calculate your tax bill or the best place to get Viagara.  The latter is another new innovation, but we’ll skip that for now.

Computers are wonderful things.  They can calculate things at unbelievable speeds and if you are lucky, they will actually give you the right answer before they crash.

You would have enjoyed the Interweb.  Somehow, they have managed to connect nearly all the computers in the world together so that you can sit in the living room and access unbelievable amounts of pornography and things like that.  Isn’t it wonderful the things they can do?

The house is much as you left it.  [That reminds me – I must get around to dusting it one of these days.]    We did put in central heating because Herself used to complain about breaking the ice in the kitchen sink before she could wash herself.  I also finally got around to replacing that blown bulb in the lobby.

The garden is nearly the same too.  I have even cut the grass a few times.  I’m afraid the field of raspberries is gone now, but I think you would approve of the crop that is now growing there.

I have tried to look after the place as you would have wished.  I think you would be happy with my efforts.

If ever you decide to try to contact the living, do give me a shout.  I miss our chats.  If I’m not in at the time, you can always get me on my mobile [Yup – we carry our telephones around in out pockets these days] or leave a message and I’ll get back to you.

I miss you.

Your loving son.

G