Mrs T lashes out:
Dear Mrs Scrote, she writes, MUST you keep on about your miner aliments and illinessies? There's people much worse than you who never utter a word, though I admit they might scream in agony from time to time. Myself, for example, I go through torments when I tweezer out the supercilious hairs on my chin, but you don't hear me bleating on, or posting photos of my delapidation after I've done, partly because all those little craters where the hairs came out make it look like a case of smallpox, and I wouldn't want to cause a panic in Llanfairpg.
So, please shut up and talk about nice things instead, like embroidery or rabbit pie.
Yours briefly
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, retd.
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