[John Whitworth]

I have just thought of a terrible joke. My entry now runs thuswise.

Dear Polly

I'm as corny as Kansas in August. I'm as normal, but you know how it goes. I'm in love thricely with a wonderful gal (I have never been tempted to an invert's sad passion) and she loves me. But there is just the teeniest rift within the lute (else why should I write you) that, while my downy darling is May, I am, no not December by any manner of means, but perhaps the first tremble of the descendent leaf. Yes, there is an age gap. And further (alas for further) there is another woman in the case. She loves me, tempestuously, irredeemably, and (again alas) my heart is pledged. Besides, she is my darling's mother. How can I, in the nicest possible way, tell her to back off. Vile phrase but there it is?

Polly Gamist (Mormon Times) Marry them both and live happily ever after.

[Orwn Acra]

Dear Baboochka,
A real steinburg-like bloke made me viddy a no-horrorshow-like horror show with malchicks and votchkas splooming guttiwuts all over the earth and howitzing at the moon. Usually lubbilubbing to such scenes of ultra-violence, like glass in my glazzies, it was, with a soundtrack from Bog Himself Mr. Beethoven's I-didn't-do-nothin-m'am-I-plead-the-5th symphony. Din, din, din, and Dim himself couldn't screw back my gulliver after such strack-attack on lubby Ludwig. Is music snuffed and sealed for Your Humble Narrator or will it rise, Lazarus-like, to live again?

Baboochka (World Gazetta): Alex, I am afraid I do not understand a word of your letter. Please consult a dictionary and write back.

[Ann Drysdale]

Orwn, that's a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolent.

[Adrian Fry]

Dear Deidre,
There’s this girl, see. Not that I like girls or anything, in fact me and my Outlaws can’t stand them ‘cept for dipping their pigtails in ink and putting frogs down their backs and suchlike. Only there’s this one girl and she won’t leave me alone. Says she’ll thcream and thcream until she’s thick if I won’t play with her. And I don’t want to play with her, not really, but I do. Except now I’ve started having sort of Thoughts about her, even when she isn’t there. Specially then, in fact. I don’t feel like doing dares anymore and my game of conkers has gone right off. Help!
William Brown

Dear William,
I advise soaking your conkers in vinegar.