Dear Mr. McCartney

Dear Mr. McCartney,

Please read this – I am not a nut, although am generally a lot less hairy once I’ve had my breakfast. I just wanted to thank you for everything you have personally done for me. You have visited me in my sleep many times, whispered words of comfort and encouragement into my ear and then disappeared back out of the window from whence you came, leaving a haze of smoke and coloured light in your wake. Although I imagine that you do this for all your fans, telling me that I’m sweet and cuddly in that lovely Liverpudlian lilt of yours makes me feel wonderful, thank you.

I also wanted to genuinely thank you for the effect your music has had in my life – I have a radio inside my brain which plays ‘Mamunia’ constantly. I sometimes sing along in the supermarket which used to scare the younger children, but now they’re used to me and they join in whilst skipping behind me. It’s quite touching – you’d like it, I’m sure! I had my first kiss to ‘Silly Love Songs’ – it was a moving experience for me, but the Alsatian seemed unimpressed – we eventually split up because Elaine disagreed that ‘Wild Life’ was an important piece of work. She kept on calling it ‘Rough’. She said that a lot. I asked her how she was feeling, she said, “Rough”. I asked her what she thought of Wild Life as a whole, she insisted it was “Rough”. Now you can understand, when you have major artistic differences like that, relationships just can’t continue. Me and Elaine were just like you and John in that respect.

I follow your example and eat nothing but vegetables such as cabbage, potatoes and beef. I believe that strict vegetarianism is the way of the future and that the robots who will take over the world will eat nothing but pulses, grains and chicken-flavoured noodles. They will all be called ‘Paul’ and will roam the world wearing kilts, making their own cheese and meditating regularly whilst thinking of Linda. I must admit that I didn’t like your ex-wife at first, but the more I’ve seen of Laura, the more I like her. It’s a shame about her glass eye, though. Still, if she will run with pencils, that’s what she can expect.

I will always love you, Paul. Physically, if you desire, but I am a 56-year old man with a weight and body odour problem. I will wash, if necessary, and you can fulfil any of your desires with me – I don’t mind, honest. You can contact me at The Salvation Army Hostel, High Street, Crawley, Sussex. Just ask for ‘Mental Bob’ and they’ll get me from the cupboard under the stairs where I sit… it’s full of pictures of you!

With much love and adoration,

Robert.
xxxxxx

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About A.D.S.

You are reading the musings of a music-obsessed forty-something who was brought up on The Beatles, lived through Britpop and now spends his time in pursuit of the best music around. This 'blog gives me an outlet to write about the huge number of albums I buy and the many gigs I go to. All of the opinions expressed are my own and if you don't agree with me, then I understand - music is a very personal thing. I like to receive comments, especially if they're nice ones.
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