I was just noisily gobbling down some larks' tongues on toast for breakfast, followed by a pewter flute of Dom Perignon White Gold Jeroboam champagne when Postman Pat came and popped an ominous brown envelope through my slot. I was expecting more fan mail and immediately flew into a violent rage and tore open the envelope to reveal the above letter, from someone called TV Licensing - the sheer cheek of it! I spat a mouthful of lark tongue onto the carpet and rushed to the typewriter, to immediately bash out the following response to these people:
How dare they interrupt my breakfast! I've heard tales of people being harassed by this institution. Do you think my letter will get them off my back?