Thursday, March 01, 2007

 

The turnip


27 February 2007

Dear Mr Eater

With reference to your letter dated 20 February 2007: Vegetables of any appearance which are grown within the bounds of a private residence and are not causing a nuisance to people other than the resident/s him/her/themselves/self, fall outside the remit of Brentwood District Council. I regret that we cannot assist you in this matter.

Yours sincerely

D.V.S. Fox, Liaison Officer, Brentwood District Council.



11 March 2007

Dear Mr Eater

Thank you for your recent letter which we read with great interest. It certainly sounds like a peculiar turnip you have there, and I suspect I too would be alarmed if I saw one that resembled the well-known politician you refer to! Unfortunately this is not quite the sort of thing we’re looking for on Gardeners’ Question Time. The programme offers gardeners the opportunity to seek advice from our panel of experts about problems encountered in the growing of vegetables and other plants, and the fact that your turnip frightens you is not something the panel would be able to help with.

With all best wishes,

Doug Hole, Director of Lifestyle Programming, BBC Radio Four.

PS If you can see the turnip then presumably you’ve pulled it out of the ground, in which case, how can it still be growing every day as you claim?



22 March 2007

Dear Mr F Eater

Further to our telephone conversation of Wednesday 21 March, I am writing to confirm that I have asked you to desist from calling our station about the turnip in your garden. I confirm that I reassured you that you were in no danger from the turnip, and that I pointed out to you that your repeated telephone calls were amounting to harrassment and wasting police time. You agreed that you would desist on the understanding that further such activity would lead to prosecution.

Yours sincerely

Detective Constable Meredith Stoneheart.



23 March 2007

Dear Mr E Foot, You wrote us asking about your turnip. There are of course many instance’s in history of vegetable’s resembling human being’s, and I suspect that your turnips resemblance to Health Secretary Mrs Patricia Hewitt is entirely coincidental. I am sorry to say our Union has neither the time nor the capacity to come and inspect the turnip, nor to remove it neither. Furthermore, might I add that I find your language and indeed your very rationale for writing to us grossly offensive. We are not ‘swede-bashers’, as you so crudely stereotype us, and the fact that we are based in East Anglia does not in itself make us expert’s on tuberous vegetable’s.

Your’s,

Rupert Ruction, PIGFUCERS (President, Integrated General Farmers Union, Central/Eastern Regions, Suffolk).



31 March 2007

Dear Mr/Mrs/Ms Foot Eater


The Prime Minister has read your letter with interest and is grateful for your contribution to the national dialogue. He regrets that he is unable to enter into personal correspondence on this matter at the present time.

Yours sincerely

R. Slicker, House of Commons, London SW1.



13 April 2007

Dear Foot

Just a quick note to ask how you are. I tried phoning but you weren’t in, and you didn’t answer the door when I knocked. I’m a little concerned that you didn’t collect your prescription this week. Please call me on my mobile just to let me know you’re okay.

Best wishes

Sam Hain, Community Psychiatric Nurse.



18 April 2007

Excerpt from pathologist’s report, Brentwood General Hospital.

Subject is a 36-year-old male, height 1.8 metres, weight 80 kilogrammes, no distinguishing marks. Post mortem examination reveals extensive blunt trauma to abdomen, chest and skull resulting in ruptured spleen, multiple rib fractures with bilateral pneumothoraces, and fractures to cranial vault. These injuries are consistent with crushing by a large object, as yet unidentified. Police Scene of Crime report indicates carpet of house where subject’s body found was smeared extensively with garden soil. The substance beneath subject’s fingernails is identified as Brassica rapa rapa, commonly known as the turnip.

Comments:
Now if only you'd got your wife, son, dog, cat, chicken and mouse to help you pull it out of the ground, then you woud have had all the turnip you could eat with enough left over for the next day, the next day, and the day after that.
 
I guess the moral of the tale is that, if you can't get to the root of the matter, the root of the matter will get you.
 
I knew that all you needed to sort out all yer problems was a good root.

I always thought you were an uphill gardener.
 
My penis looks like a carrot if thats of any interest (scientific) to you.
 
Something of a turnip for the books you getting killed like that.....
 
Oh peeeeeas, people!

Lettuce stop with the corny vegetable jokes!
 
Kim: have you been at those mushrooms again?

Mr Knudsen: when you say your penis looks like a carrot, do you mean it's got dirty flecks on it? That's probably not soil, old man.

Sam and Eddie: though Sam's the more prolific, Eddie pips her at the post with the sphincter-tightening awfulness of his joke. Your prize, sir, is a turnip enema. Be aware that you might leek afterwards.
 
Damn you, Eddie Waring!
 
I hoped they play Swede Caroline at your funeral.
 
Lettuce all turnip at the wake!
(Bloody awful, I know!)
 
First time I've ever won anything in my life, although I think I tied first place on Kav's old blog in a caption competition.
Sam - If it's any consolation, I thought yours was best and youwould have probably thought up mine if I hadn't done it first. I would like to give you the prize. Mr Foot Eater, please send the coupon for the turnip enema to Sam.
 
Oh no, no Eddie! I couldn't, really. You won fair and square. The turnip enema is your's and I won't have it any other way. Foots, send him the turnip enema! I insist upon it!

It does remind me of another horrendous has-bean joke thou. With my apologies, folks:

What's the height of suspicion? A nun doing press-ups in a cucumber field.
 
I know, scraping the bottom of the weel-barrow, that one.
 
Despite the corn-iness of these jokes they are at least not as cress as previous offerings. And you just can't beet a good running gag.

Anyway, I can't afford to stick around ringing up a huge bill just to make veggie jokes - not on my celery.

No more puns from me - that shallot!
 
I carrot believe you, Binty, sprouting such terrible puns. They're almost too much tu-ber. How did you mange tout come up with them? If my dad were around I'd say, 'Pa, snip his tongue out'.


The turnip enema's re-usable, everyone, so pass it around once you've finished.
 
Oh, for Gourd's sake!
 
Well, footsie... may i say that you spinach-arming tale. It warms my heart, especially as I am at sea at the moment and the breeze is a little chilli. We might get back to shore quicker if I make Ma-row the boat. I did ask her but she got stroppy and dropped the oars on my feet. "Me toe ma, toe", I cried. I'd strangle her but I never learnt how before and I always considered it an art t' choke. I'm afraid I just wouldn't cut the mustard.

Anyway, I have no desire to pepper this comment with any more veggie references so I'll instead tell you about my new skateboard. I'm not as cool as the other kids but they are kind to me, bless 'em. My new wheels may not quite be hip but my friends are nice enough to describe them as rad-ish.
 
Crap, Foot. You're right, there's a sharp flavored root vegetable here as well.
Someone needs to write one about an onion with an identity crisis or a yam in line at a carwash to round this out to an even three.
 
You lot... I yam getting fed up with these puns. You'd butternut post any more of them.
 
I can barley take it any more. Foots, write another post please and bury this one. May it rest in peas.
 
Wheat wheat! And I too late discussion? And..say Old Knudsen, you don't have any photo evidence of that handy do you?
 
Well fucklestop!
 
Anyone henceforth asking for pictures of Mr Knudsen's penis will be banned.
 
Foots? You there? Go and check this out: http://troubled-diva.com/labels/rednoseday.html
 
Post a Comment



<< Home

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?

Site Meter
Hit me