STEPHEN FRY

Dear Auntie Tito
Glad to report all my petals are in order and my man is suitably subdued. I am feeling positively pink and floral. I am feeling a little bored and dissatisfied and would like some distraction. Now I am hoping a chunky, macho gardener might come along and inspect my roses. What do you think about that Kendrick - he seems pretty butch. Don't tell him, but I am just a little sweet on his raw exuberence, especially if his wallet is well endowed - if you get my drift.
Looking forward to your valuable advice,
Ivy L Pretty

Kenny old chap, Tito's forwarded your last missive to me, and frankly I have to denounce you as an odious and repellent inadequate oaf. Crooking the little finger when drinking tea? Of course, and out of good Spode porcelain too. One has a robust side to balance if needed, the civilised, and you should have no doubt that if I were called upon to exercise my assertive or coarser attributes, I am entirely capable of knocking you into a cocked hat.

I move on to your belligerence towards women. I put it to you that you adopt this risible, nay, ludicrous posture as a result of your inability to relate to them as people. Lord knows they're different to us, but they are never, never inferior. I speak as a man who has Known thousands, and fathered hundreds of children, and I tell you now, you will never achieve anything unless you take steps to end your virulent retrocranial inversion. In plain English, Kenny, you've got your head so far up your own bottom you can see daylight again.

O-E

Rex Wigisbottomus, God Emperor of Wigisbottom, Thane of Foul End, Seignieur of Pratts Botom, and Chancellor of the Fudge-Packer home for distressed gentlefolk, and now, Father Of The Nation.

Listen O-E Buster, someone who has that many damned names shouldn't be pointing his delicate little English girly-man fingers at anyone else about having an identity crisis. All the titles in the world won't get you any respect in my presence ya little English brat.

It was American MEN who wised up and tore off the gay wigs, little white stockings, brass buckled shoes and knickers and put on cowboy hats, spurs, chaps, jeans, and strapped on real guns instead of those little 'foils' of yours.

That's right 'Chancellor of Unreality', REAL MEN don't go swishing around in gay ass little shoes, strutting with their hands on one hip, and pontificating about philosophy while pulling out flowery little snuff boxes. They GET THINGS DONE. They chew and they spit, they don't pull out lacey little hankies to dab at their powdered and rouged faces. ( WTF were you English 'men' thinking anyway? "Duhhh....let's dress half-gay ballet guy and half woman..that'll get us respect!" Pffft...probably why your little empire hit the crapper ). And REAL MEN damn sure don't waft around in perfumed rooms bowing and deferring to women folk. I mean, seriously dude...get some balls would ya'? You're embarassing to the rest of us.

As for bragging about all your bastard seed out there, yeah...uh...wow, that's some goal huh buddy? Total abandonment of your responsibility to control your own phallus. But then, I guess you gotta have one to control in the first place, doncha?

No worries about MY portfolio. How about you just worry about how to operate simple condom sometime? Think your little tea-drenched brain can handle that?

As for knocking me anywhere tough guy...any day, any where, any time. Of course, the fact you won't be able to do it with the entire British Navy up your backside hopefully won't cause you to admit defeat before we even kick up some dust. Or maybe you need your brothers and friends to help you out? Well, it wouldn't surprise me pal. Me, I'm more into doing my own fighting, instead of sissying out and hiding behind the backs of others.

And why is that?

Because I'M a MAN and you are a an ENGLISH man.

Stuff that one in your pink little pipe and smoke it.

BTW, you'll notice I don't sign my name with some multi-titled nonsense. I can speak for myself, because I'm a MAN with one, and only one, personality.

I think shrinks can handle all your personalites there O-E. Might take some time, but you English guys like cuddling around on couches together from what I hear and whispering into each others ears - ( is it the close proximity of lips to ear that turns you boys on? ) - so it'll probably suit you just fine

Always ready,
Kendrick

P.S. Ladies, admit it: You'd rather have a man like me around you in a time of trouble than some swishy, crying, sniffy little English'man' wouldn't you? You'd rather lay in the arms of a MAN who smells like a MAN than one who smells like your mothers body powder, right? I hear your Englishmen kiss like goldfish. I can show you what it's like to be kissed by a REAL MAN, and I promise you...you'll thank me for it in a thousand lovely ways.

Look me up. Any time

Kendrick

O-E here, Tito's still having her feet waxed

http://hollywoodhatesme.files.wordpress.com/2009/12/zombie_bunny.jpg

so I'm left holding the reins for now, Ivy, so I'll put you straight on this Kendrick matter. He's communicated in a somewhat venomous manner his disdain for English civilised virtues, and pronouncing that we're all homosexuals.

Ivy, this is the worst case of transference I have ever seen! All the signs point to an adoption on a "super masculine" persona in order to hide the true self, to whit, he is gay; frankly, I do believe he's in so much distress at his own inclinations and the risk of discovery, he's on the brink of a breakdown. Nothing else can explain the scope of his bilious rantings. I really do advise you to look elsewhere to give your affections, they will only be ultimately be rejected, and your clothes unaccountably stretched out of shape when you're out spending his money on shoes and perfume.

O-E

Rex Wigisbottomus, God Emperor of Wigisbottom, Thane of Foul End, Seignieur of Pratts Botom, and Chancellor of the Fudge-Packer home for distressed gentlefolk, and now, Father Of The Nation.

O-E back from Iguana, tanned and refreshed. How are you all? I've got some catching up to do on the paperwork. Seems those jobsworth blighters in Whitehall don't take the reclamation of our independence seriously. Just wait until Bunjy ffidling-Figgers gets into the Hague. Once he's got out of the Haig.

O-E

Rex Wigisbottomus, God Emperor of Wigisbottom, Thane of Foul End, Seignieur of Pratts Bottom, and Chancellor of the Fudge-Packer home for distressed gentlefolk, and now, Father Of The Nation.

To O-E and this Ivy Lady, whomever she may be:

I would've replied sooner Buster Boy, but was out doing a real mans work for two months. Yep, I wrangle horses for a living. I don't prance, twit, prattle bottoms or chancell fudge packers. I rope horses.

And Ivy..I don't know what your daddy did to you but he surely did not treat you any respect for real MEN. Rugby? Beer bellies?

Are you kidding me or yourself?

The only reason Rugby was invented was so you English boys would have an excuse to slather around on each other. In other words, a game invented to be able to touch each other in public without having to go to jail.

Wait, my recent therapist insists I shouldn't say all this...let me try again.

You're quite right. I'm a flaming homosexual. Underneath the hood, I too would like to play Rugby. Preferably with you, O-E. A little scrum action, to separate the men from the boys as they say? Think it over and get back to me.

And my therapist also says that all women are actually unique individuals, kind of like men. Not sure I'm buyin' that yet. He might be one of those little liberal pukes after all.

Alright, I'll control my temper better from now on when replying. But I find women who speak their own minds very annoying really. Maybe therapy will help that. Maybe I have all of you to think for shining a light on my deeper motives, but you aren't paid to do that, my therapist is. So, knock it off before I kick all your butts into outer space.

Sincerely,
Kendrick the MAN

Dear Ms.Ivy-Muriel,

Thanks. I'm learning some respect I didn't have before. I didn't have any with the therapist Who Shall Not Be Named that you named. Am working on my grammar too. Seems it's a result of being too much of a Man. I guess I have a lot of work to do. But as far as getting in touch with any feminine side of me honey, you can forget THAT!!

Now, don't get me wrong. I don't mind giving someone a good spanking once in a while. Mothers do that and they're women so I guess that's as close to being 'feminine' as I'll get. Just understand that it's ME that does the whipping. I don't GET whipped!! Are we clear on this? Flower arranging?!! Lady, I get home at the end of the day and have horse sweat smeared all over my backside, flies biting at me, and skin that's now the color of lightly toasted bread. Anything in that picture strike you as looking spangly or smelling like lilac, because if so...you need a man in your life to put you back in touch with Reality.

I think your pyschic's batty and you should spend your excess money on more important things. Like learning how to cook and dress as women should.

Oops. Dang it. I seem to keep slipping back to my old ways pretty quickly. But, you're not a bad broad or anything. For a hen, I guess you're alright. And women look good in crimson so keep with that theme.

That O-E fella on the other hand, I'd like to meet that boy under a full moon on my ranch. I'd show him a thing or two he'd NEVER forget and send him back to Jolly Ol' more MAN than he could ever hope to be.

Yours in theraputic nonsense,
Kendrick