Desperate Cry for Help 007

Dear me, old boy! By George, what's become of you? I say, you haven't been paying some wayward chav for illicit sexual services have you? Poor old blighter you.

I don't know how many times I have to gas on and on about the miserable state of your affairs -- staying out late, drinking in excess, seeing women of disreputable professions. What's wrong with a bit of tea, biscuits, and self-abuse? That's all I can bother to say on the subject old chum!

Still, with the weather how it's been of late, and the dreadful news about that war in this country or other, it's just a matter of time until we all need a good long holiday!

I myself was tempted by the alluring call of bird watching in Andalucia! No, not those kinds of birds, you deranged, disgusting, disheveled, perverted old bastard you!

No, I long for the fine company of Common Swifts, taking lunch with Red Kites, Jackdaws and Red-billed Choughs!

Who needs latex, and perfume, and all that messy business when one can be relaxed and at peace with a Booted Eagle, a Whoodchat Shrike, and dare I say it - even the Common Kestrel!

Did I mention I hate you, and am terribly envious of you, and vaguely wish you were dead... old chap?