Monday, 6 August 2012

Curmudgeon's Corner

Dear Jilly the Belly Dancing Colossal Squid and Agony Aunt,

I would like to express my utter outrage at the disgusting display I was witness to this Friday last. All my wife and I were trying to do was enjoy our weekly outing to a local eating establishment and instead we were bombasted with a lewd display of writhing, uncovered flesh accompanied by deafening 'bongo drumming' and clanking metallic castanets.

To make matters worse, the "dancer" (though Heaven knows it is hard to credit the quivering motions we were subjected to as actual dancing) was very hard on the eyes. To refer to the so-called 'lady' as middle aged would assume that she is going to live to be at least 100, and her copious girth ensured that many diners were deterred from even looking at the dessert menu.

Not only did she seem completely unashamed at the way her manifold folds of blubber overflowed the bounds of her barely-there costume, she had the gumption to present herself as if her Caesarean scar, hideous tattoos, tan lines, stretch marks and broken veins were also invisible to the naked eye. I can assure you that they most certainly were not.

While I am sure that the PC brigade will no doubt defend to the death this "wombyn's" right to flaunt herself in my face while I am trying to eat, I appeal to the more rational readers of this letter not to indulge this person, and others like her, in these very public exhibitions of mental illness. The days of the freak show are well behind us and rightly so.

Yet, it saddens me to say that my fellow diners seemed swept up, up and away in the restaurant wriggler's madness and actively spurred on her embarrassing performance. One poor fellow, who is even now no doubt cringing at the memory, got up and joined in! (Presumably he was under the influence of drink -- refer my letter of last week on the evils of alcohol.)

I have been prompted to write because I have just discovered, thanks to the 'browsing history' on my international interweb, that my own dear wife is now searching for belly dance classes in our local area. This is quite out of character for her. If even the most sensible and sure of womankind can be seduced by this ludicrous and unseemly past time then we men must take this threat to our hearths and homes most seriously.

Enclosed please find a picture of me defending my castle against the threat from this appalling and insidious Moslem menace. Be warned that I shall never surrender. Never!

Outraged? Click here to write a letter to your local newspaper!
Yours etc.,

I Eastbend

Dear Mr Eastbend

You can kiss my fat, salty arse.

Hope this helps!


Jilly x


  1. Some people just don't know how lucky they are.

    (Full disclosure - Mr I Eastbend is closely related to Mr H Westfold, a regular letter writer to Capital Times. When I was their TV critic, Mr Westfold used my farewell column as an excuse to write in, knowing I wouldn't get right of reply, and call me a "poisonous, vicious little smart arse - like all women journalists". I have never forgiven him.)