On a lighter note: “Allow me to enlighten your readers … ” Some [😆] Letters to the Editor

 

 

17 September 2022 — As I have noted in previous posts, a good friend, Shaun Usher, runs a blog called Letters of Note. He also publishes a few books under that name. I have quoted him numerous times in my posts and, with his permission, included some pretty outstanding letters.

He troves biographies, autobiographies, libraries, correspondence files, etc. to find letters written by such folks as Zelda Fitzgerald, Iggy Pop, Fidel Castro, Leonardo da Vinci, Bill Hicks, Anaïs Nin, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Amelia Earhart, Charles Darwin, Roald Dahl, Albert Einstein, Elvis Presley, Dorothy Parker, John F. Kennedy, Groucho Marx, Charles Dickens, Katharine Hepburn, Kurt Vonnegut, Mick Jagger, Steve Martin, John Steinbeck, Emily Dickinson 
. oh, the list of authors is endless. He also has hundreds of letters sent to him by subscribers and fans.

It was through Shaun I was able to learn the best bookstores and collectors and web sites to troll to assemble my own trove of letters from some of my favorite authors. I now have enormous compendiums from such authors as Gerald Durrell, Lawrence Durrell, Henry James, Henry Miller, H. L. Mencken and Michel Montaigne.

This past week Shaun turned to his magnificent collection of “Letters to the Editors” in order to offer us some relief from a world seemingly crashing all around us. Herein a few priceless selections:

* * * * * *

Sir,

I think it is just terrible and disgusting how everyone continues to treat Lance Armstrong, especially after what he achieved by winning seven Tour de France races while competing on drugs.

The last time I was on drugs, I couldn’t even find my bike.

Yours,
B. Perry

Letter to Metro
April 2013

* * * * * *

Sir,

I was assisting my 16-year-old daughter with her homework when she received a text from Mum, which read: “What do you want from life?”

This was an unexpected and profound question for an exam-sitting teenager. We debated various answers—wealth, fulfilment, love, all three.

Five minutes later, she received a second message, blaming predictive text for correcting the word Lidl.

David Lavelle
Coneythorpe, North Yorkshire

Letter to the Daily Telegraph
May 2015

* * * * * *

Sir,

As someone with a history of severe mood swings which could well be described as “bi-polar” I found your cartoon on page 7 issue 1324 (“The grand bi-polar old Duke of York”) deeply unfunny and utterly insensitive. However, when I read it again a few days later I thought it was hilarious. Keep up the good work.

Mark Piggott
London N19

Letter to Private Eye
October 2012

* * * * * *

Sir,

Everyone seems to agree upon the necessity of putting a stop to Suffragist outrages; but no one seems certain how to do so. There are two, and only two, ways in which this can be done. Both will be effectual.

1. Kill every woman in the United Kingdom.
2. Give women the vote.

Yours truly,
Bertha Brewster

Letter to the Daily Telegraph
February 1913

* * * * * *

Sir,

Wednesday’s paper did not have a photograph of the Duchess of Cambridge. I do hope she is all right.

G. Vinestock
Lancaster

Letter to The Times
April 2014

* * * * * *

Sir:

Dot Wordsworth (Mind Your Language, 30 January) records the origins of the dull but worthy ‘Yours sincerely’ and so on. As a vicar, I’ve been the recipient of many a missive signed off with somewhat more flair. My collection moves from the solid ‘In Him’, through the invigorating ‘In His Grip’ to the faintly troubling ‘Under Aslan’s Paw’, and many besides.

I’ve always enjoyed working with one particular funeral director, who ends his emails ‘Yours eventually’.

The Revd Tim Grew
Cheltenham

Letter to the Spectator
February 2021

* * * * * *

Sir,

With regard to your recent article and headline (Our elders are supposed to be older and wiser. But not these Brexit clowns), I am a prize-winning international musical clown, part of an honourable profession, and am deeply offended by the misuse and misrepresentation of “clown” in connection with parliamentary or other forms of chaotic behaviour.

The constant use of the word “circus” in the press to denote a mess or bad behaviour is also distasteful. Unlike the comparison the press constantly draws, a clown or indeed a circus must be orderly and efficient to work properly. And in the case of a circus, it takes teamwork—which is the opposite of the impression the press gives.

Please could the fourth estate find other words to describe political behaviour.

David Konyot
Tilney St Lawrence, Norfolk

Letter to the Guardian
December 2018

* * * * * *

Sir,

Recent weeks have seen speculation that the actor Idris Elba might be selected to play the next James Bond. As various commentators have correctly pointed out, it is simply ridiculous to suggest that James Bond could be played by a black man. In Fleming’s books it is quite clear that Bond is a Scottish milkman called Sean (Rough Diamonds Are Forever, p94).

To recast Bond as a member of an ethnic minority is quite simply unrealistic and I suggest the producers forget about such fanciful politically correct gimmicks and return to the stark realism of the early Bond films, in which Bond nearly has his genitals cut off by a laser, or turns a car into a plane, or goes to space, or uses an ejector seat to throw villains from his Aston Martin, or defuses a nuclear bomb in thirty seconds, or has an invisible car, or arrives on a beach with a tuxedo on under his wetsuit, or defeats an entire base of heavily armed men, armed with nothing more than a pencil.

To turn Bond into a black man completely defeats the hard work the filmmakers have done to make him a plausible, nuanced and three dimensional character.

Sir Herbert Gusset
The Old Asylum
Loonraker
Somerset

Letter to the Daily Telegraph
2015

 

* * * * * *

Dear Sir,

The year was 1943, and I was 11. It was a lovely summer day in West Norwood, South London. I was in our garden with my mum and dad, watching Spitfires in a dogfight with German aircraft. I can still hear the rat-a-tat-tat of gunfire. A German plane burst into flames and crashed in Norwood Park. Looking up, we noticed something white floating down. A parachutist was on his way down right over our heads. ‘Blimey,’ said Dad. ‘He’s coming down in our garden.’ There was a huge thump as he hit the ground, just missing our greenhouse. Releasing his huge parachute, he stood up, brushed himself down, smiled and said: ‘Guten Morgen.’ A handsome young German pilot of about 18 or 20 years old stood facing us.

My dad got a garden fork and told him: ‘No funny business or you’ll get this.’ Pointing to his gun, dad said to hand it over. The pilot understood and gave dad his Luger pistol. Mother came out of the kitchen and asked him if he would like a cup of tea and a biscuit. He smiled and said: ‘Danke.’

Five Dad’s Army-type soldiers then rushed in and took the young airman away. He waved to us as he was arrested.

F. S. Coldrick,
Fakenham, Norfolk

Letter to the Daily Mail
August 2017

* * * * * *

From Lt. Col. A.D. Wintle.
The Royal Dragoons
Cavalry Club
127 Piccadilly W.1.

To the Editor of The Times.

Sir,

I have just written you a long letter.

On reading it over, I have thrown it into the waste paper basket.

Hoping this will meet with your approval,

I am
Sir
Your obedient Servant

Letter to The Times
February 1946

* * * * * *

Dear Sir:

On Saturday, you published a photo of the UK prime minister above the headline “A dangerous cult now runs Britain”. I was pleased to see that, despite the constant turmoil of the modern world, some things, such as the Guardian’s famed penchant for typos, never change.

Tony Mabbott
Rotherham, South Yorkshire

Letter to the Guardian
May 2021

* * * * * *

Sir—

“What do dogs do all day”?

Allow me to enlighten your readers. Mine gets me up in the morning. I walk, meet like-minded people, and clear my mind for the day ahead. He sorts out the people who he knows have treats in their pockets.

On returning home and after breakfast, I work and he sleeps. If I am lonely, he tells me it’s OK. He likes classical music, like me. He will watch TV with me without grabbing the remote and changing the channel and without indulging in unnecessary opinions. He watches over the house—and the biscuit tin. In fact, he is as busy as anyone I know.

He is now 16 and at the end of his life. When he is not with me anymore he will still leave lingering memories of love and laughter. He will have done a good job.

J H Hammond
Broadstairs, Kent

Letter to the Daily Telegraph
June 2021

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