August 24, 2002

Dear Friggin Editor,

I am appealing to your sense of justice in the vague hope that you can put aside your patriotism to assist me in what has become a struggle of English civility over the tyranny of American capitalism.

I have lived in the humble backwater of Hampshire, England, for about ten years now. We Brits pride ourselves on our homes, however small, being our castles. Opposite my little corner of England stands a great and mighty supermarket, Safeway.

Now whilst I realize that Safeway require deliveries to be made to service and sustain the good gentle-folk of Hampshire, I have, for a considerable time, been disturbed in my slumbers by friggin huge pan-technicians and refrigerated tankers arriving on a regular basis to drop their load (so to speak) at the unearthly hour of 7am.

Having made numerous polite civil attempts at speaking to the Manager of the Safeway store, about this inconsideration, I find myself reduced to screaming obscenities at him on an almost daily basis via the phone because of his utter failure to produce satisfactory results.  I fear that instead of treating this matter with the utmost seriousness and urgency, he is in fact merely sticking the telephone handset into the nearest drawer and retiring to make a cup of tea while I am trying to vent my spleen.

Needless to say I see this whole situation as a conspiracy to undermine the English way of life by the might of American force. I require, nay, I demand, redress to bring about the peacefulness and solitude.  That is an English woman's right. One that I so enjoyed before I bought a house opposite a supermarket.

I ask of you, a man of letters, and one who I think has his finger on the pulse of American commercial boardrooms, to stand tall as my knight in shining armour and directly assist me in contacting the head office of Safeway in America, in the hope of smoothing a path to resolve this conflict.

I have in my possession, a detailed and comprehensive written records known as "The Safeway Diaries" listing every phone call and letter in my exhaustive exchange with the Safeway Manager which I feel sure will be of interest to you, as they are to all my neighbours.

I look forward to your response in the sure and safe knowledge that you will right this wrong from across the pond.

Yours,

Naomi Harrison
ineedsomesoon@BTTelecom.Co.Uk

  
 
Dear Ms. Harrison. 

Any relation to the late George Harrison?  It is quite obvious that you let anything and everything get under your skin.  As you may know, The Friggin Editor possesses powers of perception that allow me to see and understand the very clear and obvious problems facing you.

While you are probably not a barren woman, you don't share your female desires with members of the opposite sex.  I see that as the root of your overall problem.  You are masking the feelings of extreme horniness with those of anger against the great American marketer Safeway.  I would stake my reputation on the fact that IF your shared your bedroom with a man who was capable of "moving your earth", then any slight annoyances created by Safeway delivery personnel would more than likely manifest itself in the form of an industrialized metronome.  Speaking first hand, I too once lived behind a grocery store.  Some of the most intense sex I ever had was when the automated dumpster disgorged its putrid contents into the truck.  The rhythmic sounds of the truck  pumping and dumping generally creates sounds in our bedroom that completely masks any sounds created by the Men of Safeway.

In summary, you need a life.  You need a man.  You need a man AND a life.

Ciao baby...Respectfully,

The Friggin Editor