I’m furious and disappointed.
Last month, you entertained a letter from my housemate, Narco. I’ll have you know Narco is a tetchy old grump with a very flimsy relationship with the truth and he’s been jealous of me for ages.
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I’ll admit I’ve had some interesting fashion choices, but what young lady hasn’t? Or young gentleman for that matter? I’m still only in my early twenties, so I think it’s quite reasonable to experiment with a new look and try things out. Some may even say it’s brave that I gave it a go! I didn’t grow up in Paris, surrounded by high fashion at every turn, and Narco is quick to forget that my ‘dreadful, loud woollen numbers’ – as he refers to them – kept me nice and toasty in the winter. We live in Scotland, and I don’t have his triple layer of fur and simmering envy to keep me warm at all times.
I see he completely failed to mention some of my more elegant looks, or that I have been bullied for my ‘solid’ figure and referred to as Jacqui Potato by some of the locals here for resembling a baked spud. Your response to his letter adds insult to injury, and the truth is simply that I am much easier to get on with.
Also, Narco used to have a mullet, so any insults about my look are a bit rich coming from him. Business at the front, party at the back? Dog’s dinner more like!
Shame on you Sir.
Aged 21, Southwest Scotland
Dear Jacqui O,
I hang my whiskers in contrition my dear lady. A thousand apologies, and you are quite right. That mullet is a shocking sight and something I hope to never see on another canine.
What a hypocrite!