Dear Uncle Nigel,
I am a kind of sad and lonely person , I maybe Royal, but that’s not my fault. Luck of birth, old son.
But here I am, keen golfer, always favourite with the ladies, I like splashing the cash, even if its not mine !, and , well having a jolly good time, BUT.
Recently the beastly press chappies have started hounding me in the Sunday rags, telling everyone that I have been messing about with a few bad eggs and playing with a couple of fillies, who may have been not ready for the tan gallops, if you get my drift, and that overall I am a bloody bounder !
Outrageous I hear you shout ! Indeed.
But dear Nigel, What am I to do ?
My friend Joselin, who was a prep school with me, says that you are the man who could help on these delicate matters.
I await your wise words.
Andy (Buck House)
Ps: Good luck in Yorkshire you old spawny bastard !
Fuck Off you Twat !
PS- I don’t need luck, Twat !