Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Just Popping Out

I'm just back from the post office. It’s been a bit of a slow day today but I thought I’d show you the letter I’ve just despatched with a parcel. If it tells you anything it should tell you not to mess with The Chipster.

Psmerch, Psmerch,and Tiddle
Manufacturers of Erotic Lingerie
United Kingdom

Mr. Crispen Dale



Dear Mr. Psmerch,

Enclosed are twelve male thongs (extra large) I’m returning due to an evident manufacturing or design fault. Excuse me for being so crude about this but I believe that most men have two testicles. Your thongs are designed for men with only one. And contrary to all rumours, I am not an Austrian-born painter and decorator with a love of a certain young fraulein called Eva.

I bought these items in a discount erotica store here in Bangor and was intending to wear them during a high profile stripping convention that I’ll be attending in America next week. Your products would have been seen by thousands and would have become the talk of the stripping world. Instead, they will be stuck in a post box somewhere in Wales.

As a professional dancer who wears thongs every day both professionally and at leisure, I think I know a thing or two about their design. By providing room for only half of my manly items, you have exposed me to very great embarrassment on those occasions when I slipped out. I would like you to think about the following anecdote when you come to consider the amount of compensation you owe me.

Friday morning, I was vacuuming my flat when the doorbell rang. You should know that it’s my habit of doing the house work in only my thong, finding that it’s more comfortable that way, and easier to shower after I’ve finished doing all the dirty work. At the door, three members of the local Christian mission were collecting donations to send the local deaf children on holiday this summer. Of course, I always like to do my part and I went to get my wallet. When I returned, the Christians had gone without waiting for the ten pounds I’d promised them. Only when I looked down and realised that your garment had failed me yet again did I understand their reticence in taking my money. So, Mr. Psmerch, not only did you rob the deaf children of a holiday this year, but you exposed me to very great humiliation in the eyes of God and have probably consigned me to damnation. What price do you put on spending an eternity writhing in the seething cauldron of hell’s furnace?

I await your reply but please do not bother to send me any of your poor quality underwear. I won’t tell you what the very thought does to my lower regions.

I remain you humble servant,

Mr. Crispen ‘Chip’ Dale

No comments: