[rusty trawler]

I’m not a man of religious faith, and I know forgiveness is a basic tenet of many religions, so it’s hard for me to think about how I would react under such circumstances. However I don’t think I’d be able to forgive something like this.

The ability to forgive might be seen as having tremendous strength of character, and I can see why. As much as I would like to, I don’t think I’d have the fortitude to overcome something like this and I suspect I would probably be tormented by the desperate need to seek revenge – as my irrational mind would surmise this to be the only way to seek some redress for my lost one. It’s not for nothing that it is often said that the best revenge is to live a good life.

On a personal note I have a distant relative whose daughter has been severely mentally impaired because of medical ill-practice and it has been dreadful watching him change from a peaceful, loving man to one who is understandably angry and unable believe that the right people have been adequately punished. Despite the fact that he seems to have exhausted all the legal avenues available, he won’t give in and he is a shadow of the man he used to be. He is definitely unable to forgive and I don’t think I can blame him – but he has also unable to move on and live his life.

Speaking with my rational mind and whilst something similar to this happening to me sounds considerably remote, revenge seems futile. On a pragmatic level I don’t think my ability to forgive is of any importance.

I don’t think I could forgive but for my own sanity I’d probably like to be able to.

[rusty trawler]

@kent f OBE wrote:

Dear Lusy Caller

I would like to inform you that I am no longer at a loose end on Valentines Day (well the 16th due to a holiday), so would like to withdraw my application/desparate (begging) letter. Thank you for taking time out to read it.

Yours (might be at a loose end next year and could be desparate again)

Kenty xx

Dear Kenty,

I regretfully accept your reneging on your promise to be my +1 this Valentine’s day. But one man’s misfortune is usually another bloke’s exceptional good luck. He’s a lucky fella, make sure he knows it.

That’s the good news. Now for the bad: I’m sorry but I am unable to return the £5 administration costs for processing your letter.

Regards,

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

@mrs_teapot wrote:

Well by Rusty’s own admission I’m out of the picture… but I wondered who is the lucky Valentines girl? (or should I say victim) and tell us Rusty how you gonna sweep her off her feet and melt her heart? I was thinking what would the ideal date be?… how about…..

An evening in Paris. Moonlight, a Champagne dinner at Maxims and Three Coins in the Fountain to make her yours? After all it has to be special :D

Any other suggestions? What would the ideal date be? :D

It’s a wonderful suggestion, Mrs T. A chartered flight to Paris, dinner at Maxim’s, a private viewing at the Louvre, a gentle hand-in-hand stroll down the Champs Elysee… the lovely ladies of JC are all richly deserving of a Valentine’s date of this magnitude.

Even though a cyber date with a cyber cad hardly promises a night of romances untold and let’s not forget that I’m a man of a certain age so my follies of the virtual flesh are not what they once used to be, I shall be given the ideal date some thought in the next few days.

[rusty trawler]

Dear Lucy,

Many thanks for your application.

It behoves me to warn you that for a man of temperance alcohol, prophylactics and chocolate are a perilous combination, but I like the cut of your jib – and the Rohypnol will act as a suitable preventative and also mask the memory of any nefarious activities we may eventually engage in.

Yours appreciatively,

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

@wordsworth60 wrote:

@rusty trawler wrote:

. . . . . . unscrupulous men that frequent the JC Gentleman’s Club. . . . . . .

Dear Brother Trawler

These allegations are quite serious. While the club maintains a strict “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy on most personal issues, please raise any matters affecting personal safety or public reputation with the committee. Matters of ethics are always overseen by His Honour Judge Sadness)

Yours in the half-light

W

Dear Grandmaster Words:

Please accept my earnest apologies for my wanton disregard of the club rules.

In moments of personal jeopardy I’m prone to hyperbole. Indeed, countless have been the occasions where I have depended on the benevolence of my comrades to ensure that I am safely extracted from a precarious scrape or two.

And now is such an occasion! I’m perfectly aware that the tedious business of club administration is rather taxing on your time – we’re all fully appreciative of your tireless (unpaid) efforts – but could I call possibly call upon your highly-valued assistance?

It seems that the ladies of JC are a feisty lot, don’t let their protestations and feigned disapproval of the male species fool you. If a man has had the requisite good fortune to retain the majority of his own teeth, mastered the art of using cutlery and can resist the urge to talk about anything sports related whilst on a romantic assignation with a fair maiden, why, then that man is a veritable catch. Perhaps you would be so good as to extend your enviable charm to the ladies of JC so we can ensure they are all recipients of a jolly good time on Valentine’s Day.

In order to motivate you in proffering assistance I shall draw your attention to the club moto:

A frater inops est a frater iuvo

A brother in need is a brother indeed

fraternally yours,

Brother Trawler

[rusty trawler]

@nicey wrote:

Dear Crusty Brawler,
I may be interested in your offer of chocolate this February (being innocent, I am not sure what “jiggy” involves).
My qualifications and experience are as follows:
Qualifications
* expert with a notebook and pencil (which I am fond of licking)
* ample curvaceous assets
Experience
* I turn up naked and bring beer
I look forward to hearing from you in the near future.
Kind regards,
Nicey :)
PS Did I mention my pair of large jugs?

Dear Miss Nice

What a charming proposition.

I’ll gladly arrange a jiggy class for beginners for you at your behest – and you can take notes in your notebook. Although on perusing your qualifications and experiences I think we may have to reverse roles: I become to the student to your teacher.

I’m rather partial to beer although I’m unable to drink more than two glasses of the full strength stuff without it impeding my ability to provide an efficient and worthwhile jiggy class.

Please ensure to inform me about your earliest availability and don’t forget to pencil the date in your notebook to ensure prompt time keeping.

With scholarly regards,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: for educational purposes only it might be a good idea to bring the jugs to the class.

[rusty trawler]

Dear Miss Taffy,

What a pleasant surprise to receive an application from the other side of the pond.

Was it our Winston Churchill or your Teddy Roosevelt who said that England and America are countries separated by a common language? Who cares, because fortunately I’m fully conversant in the international language of luuuuuuuuurve, so wherever we may stumble on confusion with the spoken word fear not, as I’ll be able to easily translate with erotic sign language.

However, they may be other obstacles for us to navigate. For example, we have employed a metric system over here for quite some time, so when I provide you with my physical dimensions in centimetres (height, waistline, hat size… and any other measurements you may feel compelled to enquire about) I suspect you will automatically think in inches and therefore become woefully disappointed when I don’t measure up.

Tell me more of the American conventions and rituals of courtship. What does first base entail, for example? Why do Americans insist on calling a bum bag an anatomically incorrect name? Why do you insist on thinking that bosoms mimic the sounds of owls? My well-thumbed Alfred Kinsey primer is rather vague on these things

Kind regards,

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

Dear Mrs Teapot

Whilst the idea of engaging in a torrid affair with a gangster’s moll is initially very appealing, I’m a veritable coward.

My man servant is no match for the Mr Teapot’s motley gang, and quite frankly I don’t think I’ll be able to secure his services for much longer; the tenor of my recent correspondences seemed to have inspired him to think that it is high time he acquired a wife.

So I’m afraid I must admire you from afar. Our love must remain the love that dare not speak its name. I know the idea of our lips never meeting will almost be a burden to heavy to bear but you must hold fast and nurture a stoic outlook. It wasn’t to be and that, I’m afraid, is that.

Yours sincerely from a safe distance,

Rusty Trawler,

P.S: any chance of a bit of trifle?

[rusty trawler]

@mrs_teapot wrote:

Dear Mr Trawler & Miss jenjen

It’s a well known fact that when a Yorkshire man is annoyed, their response is typically a tut followed by: “…I’m gonna write a letter.” This is that letter!

It has shocked me to the core that you dare to draw attention to my clandestine pursuits, and what business it of yours how I make my money? If it were not for my lovely wife’s appeals for restraint I would definitely take this matter further!

Here in Yorkshire, we know that life is difficult enough without some “testa di cazzo” (clean translation: pain in the ass) giving you a hard time, telling you what to do, or getting in your way!

On this occasion consider yourselves very lucky not to be receiving a visit from “the boys” however I trust this will not be necessary. But be warned I am not a manto be trifled with! (BTW my wife makes a lovely trifle)

Thank you and Tanti Saluti da Corleone!

Mr Corleone Teapot

Dear Don Corleone

It seems I have inadvertently invoked your ire.

If you had access to my previous correspondences you would note that when confronted with the choices of fight or flee, I invariably choose the latter. And although the prospect of awakening next to a severed horses head is a marked contrast to the usual where my bed remains empty and all I have for company are the erotic dreams that I tend to cultivate in my night time reverie, I’m not entirely sure it’s an experience that I have any haste to tick off my bucket list.

Please be assured that I’m a man of honour and probity. After all, even though I’m currently a man of no fix abode – it’s a long story but it has something to do with Interpol and the fact I’d hate for you to discover where I actually live – my parents exhibited the necessary perspicacity to ensure I was born in your lovely county to guarantee my eligibility to play for Yorkshire. The fact that I show no capacity for the sport can be accounted for by wasting my youthful years collecting erotic playing cards.

Furthermore, even though Mrs Teapot is undoubtedly among the most beautiful women to have ever graced this world – you are indeed a lucky man – I’m aware that it would be foolhardy to entertain imprudent thoughts about her.

Those malicious rumours casting aspersion against my good name are nothing more than the libellous tittle-tattle of unscrupulous men that frequent the JC Gentleman’s Club. I’m the type of chap you would gladly have a friendly wager with over the outcome of an elicit whippet race or, indeed, someone you would welcome to share a glass or two of the last of the summer wine.

Yours obediently

Rusty Trawler

[rusty trawler]

Dear Mr Trawler,

Dear Jen,

I’m eternally relieved that my recent appeal has to some extent assuaged your doubts and I cannot disguise the blithe smile upon my countenance as I read that your assets remain ample in proportion.

You will, indeed, have noticed that I now feel sufficiently enabled to dispense with the formality of my previous salutations despite your not having crossed the threshold of the rather well-appointed chamber in my meagre domicile where the magic happens.

Oh, but I’m so overcome with sincere gratitude that we have successfully traversed our little contretemps that I am now exhibiting profound difficulty in constructing a lucid sentence. Please allow me to revisit the last paragraph – as you have probably invoked the idyllic image of a bedroom furnished with all the modern comforts that befits a lady of your social standing. Well, this is true, and I can assure that you would not be disappointed. But you will also encounter accoutrements, appendages, attachments and mechanical devices a plenty to behold the interest of a maiden as artful as I imagine you to be.

Please remain assured that there is no reason why you should feel coy about begging. My erotic antics often affect a state of supplication in ladies whom have grown accustomed to bigger and better things. I would gladly divulge more detail, but we still need to address the small matter of the non-disclosure agreement.

And now to not so small matter of the frantic peril our entwined lives are currently experiencing. I have to confess that my baser instincts motivate me to flee to my country pile but then I have scant faith in my man servant’s ability to singlehandedly stave off the Yorkshire mafia, especially since he seems to be displaying an undue interest in my correspondence at the cost of his official duties.

I’m not entirely sure I can call upon my JC brethren to safeguard my paltry life at this juncture. It’s a complicated tale that demands yet another abject admission as I have been somewhat economical with the truth in my last confession. I’m afraid I enhanced the details of our relationship far greater than I had previously intimated.

I drew diagrams! Diagrams so detailed of how I imagined our physical embrace look that any observing worldly foul-mouthed sailor would quick march to his next confessional. I’m afraid my artistic licence permitted the depiction of images so risqué that one would have a devil of a time identifying where my body began and yours finished.

My JC compatriots have failed to convince the fair ladies of JC to meet with them sans escorts despite how heartfelt and sincere their pleas. Apparently, just like you, the ladies of JC have also encountered the duplicitous charm of JC fellows. As you will know, jealousy is an injudicious master and in my attempt to regale them with apocryphal tales of our encounters (I do believe on one occasion we were so vigorous in our endeavours that the energy was successfully harnessed to ensure the smooth running of a small hospital in the event of a power outage) that they now covet you for themselves and quite frankly harbour ill-thoughts about my safety.
Would it be too bold for me to suggest that the nubile wenches you mentioned might be rallied to aid my current distress? The ETA to your lair may take a little longer than originally planned but I’m convinced I will eventually arrive with a smile on my face.

With sincere regards,

Rusty Trawler

P.S: I fear the aforementioned sketches may have done your ample assets a disservice.

[Author]

Posts