Some years back, Scottish humourist the late William Donaldson wrote at least two books under the pseudonym Henry Root.

The first of these was called: The Henry Root Letters and it was hilarious. The format was simple; the fictional Mr Root claimed to be 'in wet fish' and the recipients of his letters were all well-known people.

He wrote to each one in his or her particular context and as a postscript informed them that he was enclosing one pound sterling towards either their cause or - in the case of Mrs Thatcher - party funds.

So, since Mr Donaldson is unable to update his missives, I - Sylvanus - have set myself the task of doing it for him. So here goes:

To: Her Imperialist Majesty the Queen of England; Buck House; London.

Dear Maam;
I write as your humble and totally subservient servant, Sylvanus of Malta (you remember, the place where you and Phil first got it together). Like I say, I respect and admire you more than my illiterate scribbles can elucidate. But... and in my and my equally loyal wife's opinion, there is one aspect of your glorious reign that is - shall we say - not quite as glorious as it might be.

I am, of course, referring to your choice of hats. With respect Maam, this leaves a great deal to be desired. I mean, you are the Queen of England, not Ray Calleja in drag. So the wife and I are offering ourselves as millinery advisers to the court of St James - and in particular... to yourself.

If you bring us on board your Maj, there'll be no more upturned potties or lop-sided loo seats, we will guarantee your total dignity and style at all times. Come to think of it, just the other day I spotted a nifty little beret thingy in discreet pig's liver brown in Flo's Chapeaux. Excellent value I thought at just €12. May I have your permission to purchase it - charge it to the imperialist titfà expense account - then post it on to you (at no extra cost)?

Oh yes, and here and now I and the wife are setting up - what we have called - a Queen's hat slush fund. So to start it off I am enclosing a receipt, from the fund, for one euro. You've got to start somewhere, right?

God bless you Maam and here's looking towards you getting a head's start (geddit?) on those other euro royals.

Your ever loyal subject and mentor;

Sylvanus. (Provisionally by appointment)

And here's her reply:

"Dear Mr... Sylvanus;

Her Majesty wishes me to thank you for your good wishes, but - due to other commitments - she will be unable to open your new supermarket in Droysledon. However, she wishes you luck with your enterprise."

OK, so maybe the correspondence got a bit mixed up. But at least she (or her old man) did reply. And I shall treasure that letter to my dying day.

Here's another sample of my celebrity correspondence:

To: Mr Mike Tyson; California, USA.

Dear Mike;
I write as your number one fan in Malta (it's left hand down, a bit below Sicily) and to show solidarity with you in your times of trouble. And let me tell you, I certainly don't believe any of that scurrilous trash the gutter press are peddling about you.

You are obviously having a tough time. So here's a euro towards all your legal costs.

No need to send a receipt... just a signed copy of the LAPD mugshot would do, to add to my memorabilia.

Yours for ever-land;

Sylvanus.

And this was the reply:

The official receiver;

California.

"Not known at this address."

So much for building up a loyal fan base.

I also sent similar missives to Muammar Ghaddafi (with a contribution towards his son's legal fees). To George W. Bush, with one euro boost to his retirement fund. To Jason Micallef, together with one euro to help alleviate his Labour pains. Oh yes... and finally to Austin Gatt, plus one euro to go towards his personal utilities bill. But as yet none of these has replied. Still I live in hope.