If they chuck you out, make loads as a comedian, plenty practice. Got two Firsts he did, proud of him.Īnyway Edna an I just looks at each other-we had that special magic y’know, knew wot each others thinkin’Īnyway I slips out and slips my not so llttle charmer to the nurse in charge just to keep her mind off things y know, just a bit of fun, still remember she had a little-wh’ wos I ? Cant read my own writin.Īn Edna well she just changes the cots over sorts out the paperwork an we tell em we need to get a flight out to Sydney an nursey says well your fit enough to leave, don’t know about this guy of yours though, better not try to get his Mojo workin for at least a week. He wasn’t gonna get a shitty second class degree at Uni-not like you my boy. Christ what a memory -putting me off this Hunter Valley Savignon I’m tellin you.Īnyway we looks in the next cot and theres this little beaut, just perfect, classy little thing, all smiles, swear he was readin his case notes. Wotja up to for chrissake-must be yer old lady’s jeans, genes bastud.Ĭoincidences eh wots the odds three days after your born an Edna an I are in New York in that posho hospital an we’re lookin down at you, an Edna, well, she,s cryin her eyes out an I don’t blame her, doesn’t help I’m laughin a bit for you were the ugliest little bastard that ever crapped all over its cot, sad my boy, looked just like some sort of pink curdled ,screaming blancmange.
Well anyway here goes, gotta tell you cos the other one’s gone walkabout since old Gwen went cold turkey an told him the lot-getting back at my Edna-that’s your Edna too my boy, scuse the splats aint snot gone all sniffy an teary-crack another neck an off we go-better now, wos I? Oh yes the real ones done a runner, cant face all the shit when this gets out, it will y know, better me, get the truth my boy, sorry,sorry,sorry!Ĭoward spose, shoulda face-to-faced you trouble is you ARE a right Pommie bastard and do I mean right. Sorry son get to the point truth hurts, but Ive gotta whole rack of this stuff to help me out, spect youl jest hoover some of that ole hokey-cokey up that big family conk of yours.
Started out on old Doc Penfold’s paralysin’ plonk all those years ago, years, years. Oo just found a – Seppeltsfield Para Vintage Tawny Port, Barossa Valley, kin still read that label, Christ six thou a bottle do me, do me my boy. Better not comin’ from all those other backstabbing self promoting bastards-an I have got to include you in that my boy. Here’s to him ,Wos I? Grim reaper a’coming, well anyway time has come my boy, only right to tell you. Tho Spose I’m the bastard.Īnyway time to own up, the grim reaper an I don’t mean, that bastard from the Ministry of Agriculture, that sheep bothering bastard that shut off my tap an’ blew the gaff to the Ambassador an has got me dryin out in the bloody dunny here-Christ cant he tell a coal cellar from a wine cellar? My dear boy, cant believe I jus rote that y’little bastard. Office of the Peripatetic Cultural Attache. Original text can be viewed on our website. The headed letter paper has been identified as genuine, it is undated.
What else can you expect from the colonies? (delete! Need them for ‘Wonderful New Trade Agreement’ Christ YOU wrote that up yesterday! Ed.)ĭescribed as a ‘Tear Stained Scribble Reeking of Bundaberg’ here is the letter in its entirety. Patterson, his second wife, aka Dame Edna Everage, was unavailable for no other comment than “Bugger off you Pommie Bastards.”
#POMMIE BASTARDS FULL#
We publish the full unedited letter sent to the future Prime Minister of our glorious Union from probably the most gross politician since Jeremy Corbyn- Sir Les Patterson.
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