The Lie Emporium

A Life Less Scary

"The interesting and varied life of Scary Duck, Genius, French Cabaret Chantoose and small bets placed."



The Complete Works of
Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)

The Colonel
"The Colonel"

Sir -

Speaking as a citizen of this once proud nation, I am writing to express my utter disgust at the perfidious grip that so-called "popular" music has taken over our youth. I can tell you right now that it is not popular in our household! Only recently, after beating our transistor radio into a pulp with a good, stout British cricket bat after the Bolshevik Broadcasting Corporation dared play some sort of jiggerboo music on "You and Yours" did I realise how these Rods and Mockers are bringing our society to its knees.

I propose an immediate ban on the Radio Times - a paragon of filth on a level with Pravda - and the Devil's own "Top of the Pops" which is nothing but a shop-window for masturbatory lusts and gyrating near-naked buttocks, which have driven my wife Brian to the very edge of rabid madness. The youth of today need to be re-educated with such evergreen artists as George Formby, Algernon Hitler (whose legendary number "What-ho darkie!" had us whistling all the way into Suez and straight out again), Chas'n'Dave and Skrewdriver.

A spell in the army would do these no-good tykes a power of good. Discipline, that's what they need; along with good military music instead of these drug-addled jungle-drums we hear these days from so-called "musical" artists who would shit in your airing cupboard and wipe their arse on your net curtains given half the chance. And let's not forget the nipple clamps, made me the man I am today.

I am not mad.

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

When is this so-called government going to do something about the menace of mobile telephones in our once-proud nation?

In my day, one had to apply to the Post Office for a telephonic device, wait two years, only to be turned down because you did not possess the necessary academic, property and racial qualifications. These days, any Tom, Dick or Harry can walk into a shop and gain access to this potentially dangerous technology, using it for their own nefarious, and dare I say criminal ends.

On leaving my club yesterday, I espied one of these devices being used by - of all creatures - a woman. Horrified, I discovered it was Mrs Clackershaft, the popular cloak-room attendant in the Harpo who has worked there for twenty-seven years with never a blemish to her name. Naturally, I had her dismissed on the spot, and flogged by the rest of the committee.

Good grief, they’ll be giving them to children, our Commonwealth bretheren and people living in terraced housing next, and mark my words, this can only lead to the kind of revolution that would make Passchendaele look like a walk in the park. We can say goodbye to the “Great” in Great Britain and that other word in Scunthorpe. Hang the blighters high!

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

So, it appears that our government was perfectly justified in its decision to go to war with Iraq. But this is nothing but a smokescreen to deflect attention from the one, true issue that blights citizens' rights up and down the country. I refer, of course, to those unelected Brussels Eurocrats attempts to allow any gypo, frog, wop or dago to legally shit in my airing cupboard and wipe their arse on my curtains.

This is a blatant attack on any gun-loving British patriot's basic human rights and cannot be tolerated. It is only the start of a slippery slope into a quagmire that the Euro-Nazis are gleefully dragging our once proud nation into as part of their twisted revenge for The Brotherhood of Man's Eurovision song contest triumph. "Save all your kisses for me", translates into German as "Two world wars and one world cup, you humourless squareheads"; while "Buck's Fizz" is actually the French term for dog rimming.

Tony Blair must act now to put an end to this peril immediately with firm and decisive action. Seal up the Channel Tunnel I say, and pump it full of Dover's waste effluent like the outsized sewer that it is! Myself and David "Bomber" Blunkett have volunteered to take a Lancaster bomber over the Channel and drop twenty tons of best British soap on those Parisian soap-dodgers, it's the only language these snail-eating curs understand (apart from French).

It's time to throw our lot in with our friends and allies over the Atlantic. I, for one, would welcome our new overly-litigious puritanical overlords. God bless President Rupert Murdoch.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir-

I am writing to express my disgust at recent advertisements which have appeared on our televisual apparatus over recent weeks. I never watch commercial television myself, as it is clearly the home of uneducated imbeciles with regional accents, but my lovely wife Brian is still in a state of shock over the horrors she was forced to endure several hours before the watershed.

I refer, of course, to the depraved advertising campaign for a so-called childrens' magazine called "I Love Horses", owned, I note by filthy Italians, who would, no doubt legally shit in my airing cupboard and wipe their arse on my curtains, before robbing the panties from my lingerie drawer given half the chance.

The advertising jingle "I love horses, they're the greatest animal, I love horses they're my friend." was clearly written with one aim in mind - to groom nubile, pouting young girls into a life of equine depravity at the hands of disgusting sex perverts masquerading as retired Colonels and suchlike, who would then post their filth on such web sites as www.teenhorseslutzxxx.com for a modest fee.

This disgusting practice must be stamped out now, as there are few enough sixteen year old nymphettes to go round as it is, without attracting the great ITV-watching unwashed to this harmless hobby, which would them go down the pan like other once enjoyable pastimes such as dog-rimming, wrecked completely by the late Barbara Woodhouse's ignorant meddling.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

I fought the Nazis for twenty-seven years for people like you, and I never thought I’d see the day that they’d allow people with regional accents to present programmes on the BBC.

What kind of sane, well-balanced individual wants to hear the news from London read to them by some leek-munching Taff, some thieving Scouser who’d steal the hubcaps from your cars as soon as look at you, or worse still, one of our Commonwealth bretheren? Not that I’ve got anything against these fine people, I just done what them thrust down my throat morning, noon and night.

As a licence fee payer, and therefore one of the Corporation’s owners, I demand a return to programmes featuring white middle-to-ruling class Londoners wearing dinner jackets, shot only from the waist up; and armed escorts preventing camera crews from leaving the capital.

Any other solution reeks of Bolshevism, and the government should take steps to shut down the BBC - by force if necessary - if the Stalinist lapdogs at Broadcasting House don’t comply. A spell in the Bangkok Hilton, sharing a cell with assorted ladyboys and sheepshaggers, will do them a power of good. After all, it turned me into the pillar of society I am today.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Dear Sir,

What a fuss over nothing this Robert Kilroy-Silk business is. Who do those bolsheviks at the BBC think they are by vilifying this fine, upstanding patriot just for having the audacity to accept pots of cash to say exactly what we already know - anyone living south of Dover is an evil, unwash dervish who'd crap in your airing cupboard given half the chance.

Like Kilroy, I am no stranger to crap in my airing cupboard and the blue pencil of censorship. Despite a voluminous correspondence between myself and the editor of the Cheltenham Gazette (soon to be published in several editions by Vanity Publications Ltd), I have yet to see one of my well-reasoned letters in print. As a result of this blatant attempt to silence free speech, I have been forced to photocopy my expose of the Reverand Timmins as a sniffer of bicycle saddles at my own expense and nail them to trees and fences round the town.

This is nothing but sour grapes from the bearded, left-wing homosexual so-called-intelligensia posing as the Gazette's editorial board, upset that I polled a massive nine votes in the last general election. Despite this obvious censorship, the Flog 'em, Skin 'em, Send 'em back, Sterlize the poor, we'll have no riff-raff in this green and pleasant land, Fuck the Euro Campaign for crap-free airing cupboards Party will rise again!

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

Whoever said “An Englishman’s home is his castle” has obviously not experienced petty byelaws and officialdom enforced by my local council, obviously foisted upon them by those no-nothing free-loaders in Brussels.

For example, I am no longer entitled to defend myself against any unwanted visitor to my abode. I am still facing totally vindictive charges relating to that little incident with that chap who invaded my doorstep peddling household goods.

As I told my fellow Lodge member Chief Constable Smithers at the time, the young man - obviously one of our council estate bretheren - came at me with a handful of feather dusters and the dread war-cry of "Homeless and hungry, mate"; and it was only my swift thinking and my war-loot German bayonet that save my wife Algernon from a fate worse than death.

Now things have come to a head with some jumped-up official saying that the machine-gun nest in my garden contravenes council planning policy and “lowers the tone of the area”. They wouldn’t have said that back in 1939 with the Bosch only miles from our coast, what? The council order for thre removal of the mantrap and hot oil chute just goes to show officialdom’s lax attitude to a family’s personal safety with hoardes of immigrants already hammering at our once-proud nation’s door.

I was led to believe that this was the government of law and order. When is Mr Blunkett going to open his eyes and allow upstanding citizens such as myself take the common law into our own hands.

There’s only one rule for the unwashed, uneducated criminal classes! Castrate the buggers and don’t let ‘em breed! It’s the only language these curs understand.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

So, Palace officials are trying to hush up Prince Charles’s kinky fetish of shouting abuse through letter boxes, dressed in nothing but a pair of old wellie boots and an old sock tied round his scrotum, are they?

Perhaps taxpayers’ money may be better spent than on building the entire village of Poundbury in Dorset - touted as His Royal Highness’ idea of an idyllic community - and housing it with people either too deaf or confused to understand the cries of “Vicar felching” and “Earl Spencer blows goats!” coming through their front doors.

Does Blair’s foolish and short-sighted government think it can pull the wool over our eyes, allowing the Prince to indulge his little pecadillo without fear of persecution from right-minded people such as myself? What this country needs is a return to the public school system, where a little forced buggery and routine tranvestism never did me any harm.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

Once again I read in my morning edition of the Daily Fascist (a fine publication, though a tad too left-leaning for my liking), that our taxes are being wasted on uneductated lesbians, single parents and our Commonwealth bretheren, squandering our hard-earned money on “support groups”, “advice centres” and “food”. What about us pensioners? We here at the Napoleon Bonaparte Secure Unit are of one mind (or three at the very least) that we are SICK and TIRED of it, and I was only saying to Lord Fanshawe-Nobling over foix gras and a fine champagne what a rough deal we OAPs get these days.

Instead of this so-called War on Terror, perhaps Mr Blair should be fighting the enemy within - single parents, the workshy, those who went to comprehensive schools and anyone who cannot prove Aryan descent for five generations.

Round them up, I say! Kill them and sell their carcases to the French as horsemeat, they’d be none the wiser. Maybe then, and if they allow me to use a crayon, I may consider voting for Mr Blair and his shower.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir -

When is our so-called democratically elected Prime Minister going to sit up and do something about that nest of filth and perversion that is the internet?

These days, a man such as myself who has fought in seven world wars, and prides himself as being one of this nation’s “silver surfers”, cannot give his e-mail address and credit card number to an honest-to-goodness pro-countryside and pro-hunting website like farmsluts.com without being deluged with such messages as “Lolita’s drenched in HOTT cum” and “Spittro@st Teenz in seXXX orgie frenzy!!!”

In the name of Jahweh, don’t they teach English in schools these days? The grammar and punctuation in these messages is appalling, and the spelling is what I’ve come to expect from the comprehensive system these days.

If Blair is serious about educating our firm, thrusting, full-breasted youth, for a career in the all-important gentlemen’s relief industry, we should be taking a leaf out of the Kingdom of Thailand’s book, where every child can spell “Suckee fuckee mister, only five dollar, I love you long time” by the time they are twelve.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)
D Wing Belmarsh Prison



Sir –

It has come to my attention that the entire plotline for J.K. Rowling’s latest over-priced pot-boiler “Harry Potter and the Banshee’s Floater” is nothing but a cheap rehash of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s classic detective yarn “Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Corn-Laden Turd”.

When will the powers-that-be do something about this trendy left-wing Bolshevik menace and burn Rowling at the stake like the wart-riddled witch that she is?

Children these days should be forced, at gun-point if necessary, to read good, wholesome literature such as “Mein Kampf”, the lingerie pages of the Kay’s catalogue and the collected works of that fine upstanding young author “Lord” Jeffrey Archer.

I am not mad.

Yours etc,

Lt Col Winston St John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



Sir –

What a load of rubbish these so-called Old Wives’ Tales are. My fellow Rotarians and I appeal to the Home Secretary to do something suitably draconian to wipe out this greatest menace to society since they legalised Larry Grayson without delay. Only recently, an old wife (not mine, I hasten to add) told me, whilst observing a glorious sunset, “Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight.”

Imagine my dismay, on picking up my copy of The Times the next day to read that Arnold Widdershins, a popular sheep-herder and licensed goat-worrier of this parish had been tragically killed in a bizarre spacehopper accident. Hardly cause to be delighted – especially as it pissed with rain for the whole day!

I am not mad.

Yours etc

Lt Col Winston St. John Cholmondeley-Cholmondeley Patel (Mrs)



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