Once again, the indefatigable Mrs Trellis of North Wales grabs the wrong end of the bargepole:
Dear Al Gore, she writes, I read with amazement that you were an author. I had always thought of you as a failed politician with a chip - or do you call it a french fry? - on your shoulder. But I am a generous-hearted woman and sorry to hear about your troubles with your publisher. I think you should piss in his ear. By the way, didn't you make a film - or do you call it a moving picture? - to make people love you and vote for you again? I do hope it works because a man of your age should not be out of work for too long: idle hands and all that, and anyway it puts hair on your palms and makes you go blind.
PS If you are ever in Llanfairpg, do call in and I will play you a dirge on my Welsh harp.
Mrs Blodwen Trellis, widow, retired, no serious offer refused