On using these new-fangled internets to send a personal message to your Member of Parliament

On using these new-fangled internets to send a personal message to your Member of Parliament

Hello. I am The Fragrant Mrs Duck and I am EXCELLENT.

Today, My Not Excellent-At-All Husband has allowed me to use his website to send a message to our Member of Parliament who is (according to the 42-year-old juvenile in our household) FULL of FAIL*. Whatever that means.

The other day – taking time off from my full-time job of running a household that features a fully-grown idiot - I took our dog Lucy Minogue for a walk with our neighbour.

As we walked down the coast path around Portland Harbour, I told Madge how Weymouth town centre has acquired yet another lunatic in the shape of a fire-and-brimstone end-times preacher warning bored shoppers outside the 99p Shop to accept "Jayyyy-sus" in their hearts or the world will end a week next Tuesday.

The Duck's a bit annoyed by this whole World's End business, as a) he thought he had the monopoly on Weymouth-based lunacy, and b) it means he won't get his birthday presents.

"Oh, I know who that is," said Madge with an air of sorrow on her voice, "He used to be a minister in our church. We had to let him go on account of the smiting. Very sad business."

I must admit the news that Madge had the insider gossip on Our New Loony came as a bit of a shock to the system, and my reply might have been a little louder than it should have been in the circumstances:

"HE'S A MINISTER? REALLY?"

It was at this exact moment that a small man with a goatee beard and a smug look on his face walked by. On hearing my words, his face became nothing if not more smug, and the added spring in his step making him look smugger still.

So - my message for the Minister of State for School and Learners is this:

Dear Jim Knight MP,

Sorry to spoil your day and all that, but I wasn't talking about you. I was, if you'll pardon the cheap insult, talking about another idiot.

Your pal, The Fragrant Mrs Duck

PS Sort your facial hair out. It frightens the dog

At this point I am directed to type the words "Then I was sick inna hedge". But I won't. So there.

* Duck note: I've had John Redwood as an MP, and am pleased to report that Mr Knight is actually rather pleasant in comparison. So there