Vehement Vermin Vocalist

Dear Sir,

I am a faithful reader of the CT, unlike many of my military friends who say it is a big pile of Nazi propaganda. I don’t know about that, but was nonetheless shocked to read about the CT’s recent campaign to legalise squirrel-puffling. Can this be true, I shouted at my dog of seventy-seven years. She couldn’t tell me, so I decided to go to the top. Now, I am aware that many of your readers will not know much about this disgraceful sport, and so I will fill them in forthwith. Squirrel-puffling originated in the fifteenth century as a means of prohibiting the growth of the squirrel population in village communities, particularly those where nuts were grown. The squirrel would be approached by the ‘puffler’ (usually a local man or woman with limited social skills and bad hygiene), and subjected to several hours of reading. The usual material would consist of scraps of the Bible, or European fables about goblins, monsters, or ridiculous stories about girls who were swans. The more experienced puffler would often add to the mix an extract from the most recent Argos catalogue, or MFI leaflet. After the squirrel had been ‘puffled’ in such a manner, it was then clubbed to death with a wooden kettle and thrown to the dogs, before being knocked against trees attached to a long strip of sausage. Then a large paddle (or ‘wuffler’) was used to force it through small gaps. Finally, it was presented to the feudal lord, and five pence would be paid to the puffler for its carcass. Puffled squirrels would then be displayed in car parks and bowling alleys.

Now, this practice ended over three hundred years ago (except for isolated reports of pufflings in Ipswich and along the Sussex borders), and rightly so. It is barbaric and cruel. Why therefore has the Spoon seen fit to lend it’s hitherto credible weight, to this disgraceful sport? We live in an age where violence is rife, and social decency is being eroded day by day by people like Lorraine Kelly, and yet…

(We have shredded the rest of this letter, as we have absolutely no idea what this lunatic is talking about. But rest assured, he will be sent a bottle of pills and a complimentary whistle. Ed.)

Chooks Away

Dear Sir,

As a keen hen enthusiast, I was delighted to read your recent article about the merits of employing hens as passenger aircraft. With the continuing furore surrounding British Airways, it would seem logical that other means of aviation transport are put forward, and one such idea must surely be the hen. Hens are versatile, agreeable, and extremely economical to run. Furthermore, in recent tests they have been shown to be capable of carrying up to one thousand times their own bodyweight, and so would accomplish the trans-Atlantic carrying of several passengers with considerable ease. Of course, super-hens may have to be developed for the American market as they are all a bit fat over there aren’t they?

Fatties.

Yours sincerely,

Dorothy Podge. (Mrs.)

If you have anything you’d like to share with one of our readers (or even two of our readers, though we will charge if it is more than three), please do send them in to us. Clark Wiggis is away this week, so please mark the envelope c/o the Right Reverend Hercules Splendid (not gay), and address it to: ‘’Holy Crap’, Aqua-Cabin Four, Netherton-St-Flymo.

Please do not send any articles in the post; underpants excepted, as he doesn’t have any at the moment because he lost control of his Aston round Brands Hatch last week, and skidded on his holy arse for seven miles. Apparently. But then he’s a bloody liar.