Hands off our bangers, you silly sausages!
The Umbrage Weekly herald serves the ancient market town of Umbrage and the outlying villages of Blameworthy, Grudgebear, Livid, Longface and Temperley. These past few weeks, the newspaper has received more readers’ letters than ever before.
The correspondence kicked off at the beginning of May with a letter from Mrs emily Plight. ‘Dear Sir,’ it began, ‘When I came downstairs this morning, I found my six-yearold daughter in floods of tears.
‘ Overnight, her pet goldfish, Sparky, had passed away. This was the third such tragedy in as many weeks. how many more senseless deaths in the goldfish community are we as a country prepared to tolerate?
‘Before we joined the so- called european Union, this nation’s goldfish could expect long and happy lives.
‘I have many happy childhood memories of goldfish frolicking amongst the buttercups in our beautiful english meadows. But nowadays, they are weighed down by Red Tape from Brussels. how long will these senseless deaths continue? Vote Leave!’
The same page carried a letter of complaint from Mr Reginald Gasket, alongside a photograph of him nursing a sore thumb.
‘Sir, I was hanging a picture on my living-room wall the other day when my hammer hit my thumb, causing me unimaginable pain.
‘Naturally, I complained to the relevant authorities. They informed me, in no uncertain terms, that the hammer conformed to eU regulations. Consequently, there was “nothing they could do” about it!
‘So much for David Cameron’s much- touted “advantages” to remaining in europe! how many more bruised thumbs must we be forced to suffer before we call an end to this euro-madness?’
There followed a flurry of letters detailing stories of misery and woe. Taking up the topic of goldfish, Mrs T. Antrum pointed out that the ‘untold millions forcibly removed from the pockets of the townsfolk of Umbrage to line the pockets of the eurocrats’ would be better spent on ‘more spacious goldfish bowls’ offering ‘ state - of- the - art temperature control, colourful underwater furniture, an automatic change of water and food on demand’.
Mr Fury from Lower Rankling had also experienced injuries from eU-approved hammers.
‘An eU hammer dropped from my hand onto my little toe last Tuesday, and it hurt like billy-oh,’ he complained. ‘But needless to say, I am still awaiting a letter of apology from Monsieur JeanClaude Juncker. So much for nations working together!?’
Another letter, from Ms G. Rouse suggested that the money we send each week to the eU might be more usefully spent on providing a live-in doctor and nurse for every household in the country. ‘And with the money left over, we could build a 12ft wall along the entire coastline of Britain, just in case.’
In the final run- up to the Referendum, The Umbrage Weekly herald has allotted two extra pages to Readers’ Letters.
In the new issue, Mrs M. hatter points out that ‘you only have to look at the sheer calibre of those at the forefront of the Brexit campaign — Nigel Farage, Norman Lamont, George Galloway, Iain Duncan Smith, to name but a few — to realise that we would be better off out.
‘With a future Cabinet consisting of that great team of statesmen, the UK would be guaranteed to beat its rivals to a pulp!
‘My only hope is that they can persuade the formidable Robert Kilroy- Silk back to his rightful position on the front-line, hopefully taking over the demanding Treasury portfolio!’
MANy correspondents complain of the crippling effect of eU regulations on our traditional way of life. ‘ hands off our Great British Banger!’ says Mr Tom Bowler, of Umbrage Meats. ‘It may surprise your readers to know that, thanks to successive eU rulings, our hands are tied. We are no longer permitted to mix traditional ingredients into our world famous sausages. ‘yet it was that centuries- old recipe of Snout ( 7 per cent), Foreskin (12 per cent), Cardboard (15 per cent), Toenail (10 per cent) and Other (56 per cent) that gave the Great British Banger its wonderfully distinctive flavour. And whatever happened to good old British gristle?’ Finally, Victoria Sponge writes in to point out that ‘like so many other British men and women, I have become fuller-figured under the present eU guidelines. ‘ Before Britain joined the Common Market in 1973, I was a slim 17-year-old, able to touch my toes and perform cartwheels. ‘But after 43 years of direct rule under the Brussels jackboot, friends say I look much, much older, and I have piled on the pounds. Sadly, I now have to hire foreign migrants to touch my toes for me. But I know that, once we vote Leave on June 23, I will return to normal, and the world will be perfect once more.’