Sunday, March 07, 2004

...an open letter to julie andrews..

Ms Andrews (Julie babes...),

I normally consider myself to be somewhat above the dubious(, nay, perverse) practice of sending adulatory letters to the stars of yesteryear, but have elected (on this singular occasion) to make an exception to this rule. I have, for some hours, been experiencing a severe melancholic affliction (most likely brought on by pickling in Harvey's delightful Bristol Cream Sherry) and have been considering the prospect of suicide. Upon a curious whim (occasioned by the remembrance of an incident involving myself and the whore, an argument over the location of the Waterloo bridge and a sing-a-long for an audience of one: an enormous, anonymous spade who was waiting for a bus), a few minutes ago I decided to download a copy of the song "Wouldn't it be lovely" from the internet. The version of this song I happened to receive was your own.

I found your interpretation of the song to be something of a revelation. Never before had I heard such a glorious expression of character, of emotion and of virtuosity in any musical work (of classic, or of popular origin). A formerly merely exceptional song is transformed by your interpretation into a revale for the soul; a warm embrace of the heart; an evocation of the defiant expression of the human spirit through arduous endeavour, and the transcendence of the classes of the mind by the pure-of-belief.

My most heartfelt wish is to commend you for this achievement, and to argue for your beatification: your performance in this work can only be described as miraculous. I pray that you live a long and fulfilling life and that the sad loss of your voice does not cause you unendurable pain, as it does me.

My fondest regards,


T. Q. Beast BA Hons. (Cantab.)