Letter from London
exclusive to NEW IMPROVED HEAD
Dear Dick,
Well, I've been here in London a few days now. I've been talking to all the top officials in government, including their queen Mr. Blair, and I can now fill you in on the issue you were so concerned about.
So in answer to your question, I don't know if Prince Charles is gay or not. How would you tell? All these people in power here make Tinkerbelle look butch. That Mr. Blair wriggles around at the podium like his hindquarters are hurting for sure.
I expect you saw that big headline IMPOSTOR AT BUCKINGHAM PALACE. When I saw it I rushed right off to Mr. Blair and lodged a protest. After all, I stole that election fair and square, so calling me an impostor is just an insult. I even showed him the receipt for Clarence Thomas. But he assured me it wasn't me they were talking about. I think maybe they were saying Mr. Blair was impersonating the leader of an independent country. Fair enough, I thought – at least the British press isn't distorting things.
There's this older woman hanging around the palace who's really quite a gal. Her name is Hermione or Hermadgesty or one of those strange British names, but I just call her Madge, to show she doesn't have to be formal with me. Madge is some sort of intelligence expert. She told me about the threat posed by a terrorist named al-Paul al-Burrell. This dangerous madman is now in Canada, she says (wouldn't you know it?). So call up that Wayne Easter fella in Ottawa and have him ship this al-Burrell to Syria, will you? Wayne's always been helpful before. If he balks, call up K. C. Irving and have him arrange a trip to the lodge.
And can you look into Mohammed al-Fayed? Apparently he's running a terrorist cell right around the corner from Badminton Palace! It's called al-Harrods, and we all know what an evil man Harrod was in the Bible. I told Madge you'd send her one of those personal rocket launchers that come in so handy when we're out hunting doves. She could just fire it out one of the back windows. When I told her, she hit me on the shoulder and said "Arise, Sir George!", but of course I told her that I didn't think of her that way and that anyway I had always been faithful to Laura, although of course I didn't let on that as lovely an old lady as she is, I could no more arise for her than Prince Charles could for Catherine Zeta-Jones. We Texans understand chivalry.
Those Turkey explosions have of course been a source of great concern to me (see – I remembered how to talk like you want me to). After all, the Turkey is an important American symbol, and soon all Americans are going to be gathered round the festive board to enjoy some Turkey. We can't have their Turkeys blowing up on them because of Saddam Hussein's evil designs. And some could even be nukular! I want all subversive Turkeys rounded up and dropped on Baghdad.
Which reminds me – could you send me another copy of that map I usually carry around? I seem to have left it behind, and so I'm always getting Iraq and Iran confused, not to mention Iowa and Idaho. I carried Iraq and Iran in 2000, right?
Well, I have to go. Apparently they want me to give an address to a specially selected audience. That sounds fishy to me, so I think I'll give ‘em that phony Hotmail address we use in the chat rooms. I don't need a few hundred gay Englishmen sending me messages. Better seal this up before Queen Tony comes mincing toward me to get the address.
Let me know when that bill to change California's name to Callyfoahnia is ready.
George
Letter from London © Coolth, 2003
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