1: 'Allo, All!

This awl started when some odd folks decoided ter erect a funny-lookin' arty-farty obbylisk roight smack-bang in the middle o' Grange Farm h'estate, in Kegrave, near Ippyswich. Oi thort it wuz a bit weird, plonkin' it there, moiles frum the place it were susposed ter be celebrecatin', so Oi thort Oi'd wroite ter the local Kesgrave News abewt it, fer a larf, y'know? Well, the h'Editor only went 'n printed it - Oi were chuffed ter bits - "fame" at larst! This 'ere's that furst letter, ter give yers a taster, loike. Eyeballs down, lewk in, an' 'ere we gew:

Dear H'Editor,

'Ere, wossat obelisk-doohickey off Ropes Droive, Grange Faarm? Sum folks tell me it's a monniment to the compooter, but Oi can't see 'ow it even lewks anyfing loik a compooter, or even any thingummy insoide one! Certainly ain't loik mine - that ol' things got glass toobs that glow hot an' kicks out Glen Miller toons...oh, sorry - that's me grammyphone (gettin' confoosed in me ol' age)...

Ain't you councillors got anyfink better to spend fahsunds of our taxes on, than some eyesore tent-peg carbuncle? Why a tribewte to the compooter here, anyway? Did they grow them sillycone chippies on Grange Farm, then? No - 'course not! Woulda been better to 'ave a concrete cow or two, or stainless corny-cob fountain, or wotever.

Mind you, if oi park me mobility scooter there an' chain it up to it, no-one'll be able to nick me scooter whoile Oi gew walkabewt, eh?! (Asoide frum low-floyin' Chinooks, that iz!)

See ya,

Ivor Gripe.

(That larst bit woz on accewnt o' some roight funny goin's on at the Suff'k Police Headamequarters juss up th' rewd a bit, wiv flippin' great 'elimicopters bumblin' abewt an'landin' their in the dead o' the noight, scarin' all the locals an' cats 'n dogs, an' wot'avyer. Roight spooky, it wuz, too...)___________________________________________________________________________

So, yer get the gist o' me point-makin'? Oi wrote sum more letters ter follow, an' some got in (others got binned too, Oi reckon), so Oi thort Oi'd treat yerz to all wot Oi've scribbled, and some wot the paper won't 'av' seen.You c'n dig 'em ewt fer yerselves, so take a peek an 'av a chuckle or four, then mebbe's come back for more (Oi 'ope!).

2: 'T'ain't roight!

Dear Ed,

'Tain't roight, yer know - 'tain't roight at all! Closed me local Postie Office, so now Oi's got ter trek all the ways accrosst ter Penzance Road ter get me pension, what meant I 'ad ter get me lad ter hook up a spare battry in the shoppin' basket on me mobility scooty, just so's I c'n be sure ter get back orlroight...

Mind yew, I gets to play me favourite sport a bit more - it's called " 'Andlebar draggin' ".

What yer do is squeeze past all them big motors what's parked on the verges blockin' the paths, an' scrape yer 'andlebar ends all along 'em (sharpened moine up speshul, I did!). Makes a luvly noise.

Them big Bee-Emm-Wobblies wiv 'arf inch o' lakkery stuff on the metalflake make a sort of 'Skrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr' noise, which sets me false teeth clackin' an' voibratin' sumwhat, but those Merky-Bender barges  ("S"charnhorst battleships, I reckon) they're triffic at gettin' the hearin' aids whistlin wiv feedback (clears out me earwax a treat). They get up a noice loud 'Skrreee-eeeee-eeeeeoooo-eeeee' racket. The gaps in the noizes is when yer clip the door gaps, an' the 'ooo' bit's when yer dig a bit deeper to dodge the blimmin' dog poo - summat else wot ain't roight....Good larf, tho' - speshully if the owner's near enuf ter 'ear it but don't see it till yer way dewn the path an' away...

Time ter go get me pennies - gangway! Commin' through....Dink! Oopsie...

Tara till next toime!

Ivor Gripe