New Year, 2002
The Editor and staff of the Wymsey Chronicle wish all our readers the very best of all things in 2002. This second year of the new Millennium promises to be a great one for Wymsey, we look forward to the fun of handling the new EuroWyms and overhearing all the complaints of the old folk in the Post Office on Pension Day. Vera Snodging, for instance, has vowed to continue to use the Wym and says that she will ignore the Euro. "I can't be selling me Veggiburgers at half a Euro each when people is used to paying half a Wym," she told us at a party recently.
Dear Mr Editor,
Me an my mates have been talking and we decided this town has not made room for the 31 percent of the population what is young. We like differnt things than the Old, like skatebords, UFOs and chips. We needs a place to hang out, like, with hot drinks in the winter and plastic chairs with holes for wet things to drip through so no one follers us shoutin Pick that up this aint a laundry you young monsters. If no one listens we'll send a young fellow round with a gold helmit what will look at yer with big green eyes and gilt you into doin the right thing, but he's sensitive-like so please just give us a roost like so he don't get embrassed.
Very sinscerly yours,
The Boys With Skatebords
PS No it weren't us what put a gallon of washingup licquid in Maragolds fountaion. Those statues looked better under ten feet a foam tho.
Are you Mormons or doing a dada impressionist metaphysical innuendo?
Ed: Interesting question!
To the Editor,
I have heard from several people that a camera that putts pictures on the inkernet for millions of persons to see is being put up in Wymsey. Well, I'm sorry but that is insupportable. There is nothing worse than Big Brother poking his nose in my business while I'm trying to get some fresh rolls from the shop. What if I use a bad word when that pup with the pink hair gives me wrong change? Millions will think I am utterly uncouth when it was only a momentary slip & deserved as well. Those skate boarders get right up my nose too and if I happen to not lend a hand when the pups "WIPE OUT" on the kerb, what of it? Likely I'll be sued for not being a Good Samaritan.
No WYMCAM! NO meddling! No secret spythings broadcasting the nose-picking and unfortunate use of language abundant here. It's a nearly a law of physics nothing nice will be on camera, only bare bums and underage snogging and people spitting out their Big Red gum and coughing into their hands. Perhaps a small child being patted will be recorded, but only after it heaves its dummy into the gutter only to reel it back for a taste.
Very Sincerely Yours,
Upper Case Cottage,
To the Editor,
Those of us with ongoing cranial overpopulation would like to know if the Ernest Stuffe 2002 seminars will be the same as the 2001 Seminar Program and also how were the 2001 seminars received? We were only able to attend 2 but have been saving up and hope to see all of the June through Decembers this year. We hope that the Institute will continue to serve the wholistically impaired and it won't dry up blow away and the space let out to become another Hard Rock Cafe. That would be too sad.
We was kinda hoping that the Net-Web would impact on the Institute in a big way. I think Hackers Slackers and people who buy computers and just plug them in then ignore them would all benefit from an Ernest Stuff Virtual Reality Zeitgeist Vagueness Symposium, with lights, pictures and little diskettes or CDs to bring home with screen savers of the Institute, Wymsey and that nice-looking Management man gazing at the Pacific Rim
. Since computers are so ever-present yet none come in genuine wood cabinets, there is a definite bias and not-good karma feeling about them sometimes. I would like to come to terms with this through guided imaginary friends, color-grokking, auricular nomenclature, and/or long walks by the Navigation.
I have my own tent.
Outer Limits, Popeshire.
PS You was highly recommended by Maragold Babie, her with the sauna and cold plunge.
As well as providing comfort and rest for migrating tofu, I now run a refuge and rehabilitation centre for abandoned Christmas trees. Every year, thousands of trees are uprooted from their homes, forced to wear decorations and once the holiday season is over they are cast out and left lying next to the empties waiting for the next garbage collection. With love and care, I hope that in time these trees will be able to start new lives re-foresting bushfire afflicted areas.
Merry Thingie and Happy New Year to the people of Wymsey. Hope you are having a stress-free transition to the Euro.
In flagrant disregard for local custom, legal law and decency, that Greek-styled house of bathing ill repute referred to as the Wym-Spa is serving oysters in its Tea Annex. Whacking slimy great crustaceans overflow the nacreous shells that hold them, whiffing of the sea and deep scary dark things that shouldn't be eaten even as a last resort. That woman Marygold Barbie has the gall to set them out with pepper sauce, melted butter and horseradish, tempting everyone who innocently refills a tea cup at the urn with their convoluted ripples of oozy grey flesh.
I feel compelled to gulp the platter at a go, it exudes such a sick fascination, yet I have never had such urges before. They should at least be under clingfilm or something, instead of nestled in a high pile of shredded ice surrounded by brilliant purple kale leaf.
My opinion of course but it is mine and I am a citizen.
Very sincerely yours,
To the Editor (or Editrix),
Wymsey as a country is coming along right nicely. I'm enjoying the new yard (herringbone brick work, as it happens, tamped the sand underlayment myself). There was a sparkly sort of feeling in the air over the holidays that made up for the complete lack of appropriate decoration in the village. The recent wind-storms only brought down the pennants forgotten from WymFest and some abandoned ravens' nest, so it did us a favour. Winter is crackling-cooking along, lovely with contrasts of bare trees and sky, yet I feel something lacking. I make excellent money at my job (I work at home eluctricating Vicness sporendicators, fully automated now Thank God), I am under the age where I get cheap coach passes, am clean and most relatives and friends agree I am comely enough to not require special lighting.
Yet I am alone. Just last week one of the maids told me, in the nicest way, but firmly, to bugger off. I was not her cup of tea she said. Handlebar mustaches are passe, she said. And I smelt of licorice despite not having eaten any in 17 years.
How does one go about correcting such things? I should think along with composting and correct use of roundabouts we should get instructions on the fairer sex. After all, if we don't perpetrate the species, there won't be bugger-all to do here in a few years except watch each other drop off like moldy fruit. Not that everyone should reproduce. Some plain old-fashioned immigration would be nice as well.
Very Sincerely Yours,
The Editor and staff of the Wymsey Chronicle bend over backwards to endure that all aspects of local opinion is represented in the Letters Page, naturally we do not agree with all that is presented here. To be honest much of what you read here drives us to distraction but that's free speech for you.
If you have comments, feelings or views please send them to The Editor.