08 April 2013
Dear Adam Boulton,
I heard today about the death of Baroness Thatcher and I’d just like to offer my condolences. I understand that you’re a particularly loyal supporter of the Conservative party and her sad passing must be quite a blow for you.
In other news, it’s recently been brought to my attention that you have a very distinctive interviewing style when it comes to politicians. I found myself watching some YouTube clips of your finest performances, including the hung parliament one with Alastair Campbell where you definitely do not undermine your own argument in any way by behaving like a spoilt child, and then the one with Gordon Brown at the Labour Party Conference where you certainly couldn’t be accused of bitching at the then Prime Minister until he got so fed up he walked off before the camera had finished rolling, and then I couldn’t get enough of your professional and balanced approach so I had to watch the George Galloway Bradford West victory one where I’d be utterly wrong to suggest that you got a proper dressing down for being a terrible interviewer.
So really, Adam, what I’m writing for (other than to pass on my sympathies for you at this difficult time, of course, poor old Maggie yadda yadda) is to ask you whether you might send me some tips on professionalism. My appraisal’s coming up in a couple of weeks you see and I’m sure your input could help me progress in my career. You’re quite the role model – if Adam Boulton can do it anyone can!
Failing that a signed photo would be lovely, and I definitely wouldn’t draw a moustache and devil horns on it I promise.
Dear Lucy Knight,
My family have taken it upon themselves to use the happenstance of our shared name in buying me Lucy Knight branded products for Christmas, in an attempt at comedy. It’s brilliant for you – it’s guaranteed income – but not for me. Do you know what it’s like being bought a gym ball for Christmas? Or an aerobics DVD? Or last Christmas’s unbeatable ‘Walking for Weight Loss’ book? It’s shit, is what it is.
I’ve tried explaining to my family that I’d laugh about it a lot more if they simply took a photo of the Lucy Knight item and sent me it. ‘Oh look! Another Lucy Knight fitness aid!’ I’d say. And we’d chuckle and probably say ‘lol’ and that would be quite nice. Instead I have to feign gratitude that someone’s spent their time and money on something I will never use (no offense) instead of the cake stand or driving gloves I’ve had on my Amazon wishlist for FIVE YEARS.
In light of the fact that my family doesn’t seem to get the message that a coincidence is funny for only a limited period of time, I think it would be prudent for you to send me a signed photograph. That way, when someone thinks they’re giving me the breaking news that – shock horror – there is someone on Google with the same name as me and you can BUY STUFF WITH THEIR NAME ON, I can whip it out and say ‘No shit Sherlock’ and put an end to it once and for all.
25 February 2013
Dear Jennifer Lawrence,
I didn’t watch the Oscars so don’t worry, I didn’t see you fall over, although from what I read on the internet about it, you handled it very well and mostly people have been talking about how pretty your dress was and how you deserved your award, which is nice.
I thought I’d write and let you know that we all fall over now and again, some of us more than others. Here is a not-exhaustive list of times I have fallen over:
- Learning to ride my bike without stablisers, 1986
- Rollerskating in Skegness, 1988
- Hurdles on Sports Day, 1994
- Queuing in Leeds station after giving blood, 2003
- My Jaegermeister-fuelled 30th birthday celebrations, 2010
- Last November in Berlin thanks to a combination of slippy steps, new shoes and Hendricks gin.
So you see Jennifer, you’re in good company.
Please send me a signed photo because I have fallen over way more times than you and have never worn Dior at the same time. Thank you.
31 January 2013
Dear Scarlett Johansson,
I saw an interview with you in Elle magazine while I was at the hairdressers the other day, and you had such lovely hair that I immediately regretted my hair colour choice* and have had to book a consultation to sort out how I can get hair like yours.
It reminds me of when I was an impressionable young teenager, c. 1996, and everyone had their hair done in a ‘Rachel’ thanks to the success of Friends. My ‘Rachel’ looked suspiciously like a mullet on me. It definitely displayed mullet tendencies, that’s for sure.
So now, 16 years later, I’m going to be asking for a ‘Scarlett Dip Dye’. I hope you don’t mind. I’ll make sure not to frequent the same places as you so people won’t know I copied.
In the meantime, if you could send me a signed photo so I can take it to my consultation, that would be great.
*I also ultimately regretted not specifically asking for Joanne who I usually have, on account of the person I got instead got hair dye on my face and water down my back and because of hairdresser etiquette I still had to tip her.