Sir!
So may one ask, when these so-called weddings take place, who will wear the dress and veil and who the morning-suit and carnation?
(Oh no, I rather hoped you’d be dead by now.)
Sadly... yet again it behoves me to put Parker to Basildon Bond, more in anger than in sorrow, to vent my spleen against the incompetence and sheer bloody-mindedness of those who wield power over we... the great washed.
It was while on a visit to my local purveyor of newsprint, magazines and cheap souvenirs that I happened upon the information that impelled me to write this missive.
I was, incidentally, visiting my newsagent to pick up my copy of Grope Monthly – I take it for the Sudoku puzzle, when – upon perusing an issue of your organ (Steady on...), I espied the banner headline which read: ‘Legislation to be enacted to legalise same- erm... persuasion marriage’.
Same persuasion what? No sir, never, absolutely not!
Marriage is a state of grace to be enacted between a man and the other kind... never between two pansy boys. Reading on – I declined the shop proprietor’s invitation to purchase your scandal sheet – I further discovered that... Not only are our political masters hell-bent on endorsing this nauseous abomination of same-persuasion unions, they are also contemplating the disgraceful sanctioning of something they call ‘legalised gay adoption’.
By which I take it to mean that these aforementioned effeminate effluent-impediments and sordid Sapphic strumpets are to be permitted (I pause to digest the enormity of what I am contemplating) to adopt and therefore raise – what had previously been – normal healthy orphans... of multifarious ethnicity and denominations. Shame on them! How dare they!
I have to tell you that when I imparted the above information to the good lady wife... she was so overcome with shock and disgust... yes sir, shock and disgust – that she took to her bed with a copy of Pilgrim’s Progress and a packet of chocolate digestives and has remained incommunicado for almost four days. It was a jolt to her system that I fear will remain with her for as long as she gasps.
A far cry from her days of pomp when, on one celebrated occasion in the Hindu Kutch, she faced down a drink-maddened 12-foot Yeti, armed only with a loaded handbag and a rolled-up copy of Country Life. (More than a match for any drunken Yeti...)
So may one ask, when these so-called weddings take place, who will wear the dress and veil and who the morning-suit and carnation? (I expect they’ll toss for it...) No sir, this is indeed a stride too far, a plague on those who perpetrated such an outrage. Do not the views of decent, normal people count any more?
And what about our own dear Archbishop, is he to be rudely cast aside and his dogma and opinions given as much credence as those who promote and perpetrate the whims and wishes of a degenerate slough of nancy boys?
Dammit sir, this amounts to a premeditated, full-frontal assault on the morals and sensibilities of those of us who still care about what happens on this God-forsaken rock.
Sir! I am speechless with fury, (Oh that that was true...) incandescent with rage, apoplectic with nausea at the prospect of our blessed land slipping inexorably still further into the bottomless pit of filth and debauchery.
I tell you sir, anyone... yes anyone – regardless of his position in society – who sanctions same erm persuasion unions and/or homo... whatsit adoptions should be locked-up and flogged... yes sir, flogged – within an inch of their miserable lives.
Are we now completely and utterly beyond the pale? (Depends which pale you’re carrying...) Have we – the vocal majority – finally been consigned to the scrapyard of history? Has life as we have known it and lived it come ultimately to the threshold of Soddom?
I tell you sir, we won’t stand for it. Not for one second. We shall fight them on the same-persuasion beaches, in the men-only clubs, in bars reserved for weslyans – or whatever it is they call masculine gels. We shall never surrender!
Yours in convulsive wrath,
D.G Hardly-Breathing Gatt (K.O.M.R. Ret’d)