Dear All

Right lads, the 2001/2002 squashy season is upon us, starting on 21 September, 7.15 as usual. Delboy and Jim Babwe are having a sneaky holiday so we've only booked two courts for a start.

What? What d'ya mean "what's this, a Newsletter? I thought they were all dead." Listen sunshine, s'not our fault there's been nothing to write about. S'not our fault we didn't buy a Concorde for the Australia trip, via the refreshment warehouse in Calais, when they couldn't give them away. Or the Hovercraft. S'not our fault that the Duke's book still isn't finished. S'not our fault that we didn't have a Christmas do this summer. Fair's fair, John.

On the positive side, mind you, we have been able to rib Delboy remorselessly on his return to his teenage years of high emotion, everything's wonderful, fluffy lambs gambolling on the green, blue skies every day, golf gone to hell. So, welcome, Francis to the parallel world of the Prats. And, again being positive, we have had a hilarious summer's croquet on the General's lawn, under the Volvo, in Pete Warner's garden, culminating in a great bank holiday tournament down the Rec. on, well, bank holiday.

As to the immediate future, a quick social function is being planned very soon to get the new season off to a flying start and we are taking a large table at the Pumpkin Club's Rock and Roll night, with top band The Rock Island Rebels on 10th November, so we hope you'll all come along to these. Jim Babwe is also organising another of his very popular snooker nights in about a month. Despite all of these events we have been able to hold the annual subs at 1995 levels, being, well, nothing really. This is due in large part to Oscar's judicious handling of our finances amounting to a few quid in an empty champagne bottle under the bed against a rainy day.

On the management side, the editorial staff at Newsletter HQ remains largely unchanged, headed up, as ever, by our editor-in-chief, Tiggy the dog. Unfortunately, any copy for the Newsletter will now have to be submitted in Braille, either on disc, CD, spoken slowly over the phone or by e-mail to Newsletter@Tescodogfoodnexttothecrispsyouknowintheaislepastthereadymeals.com

A major regret is, however, the rnetiral of Auntie Molly after many years of faithful service giving comfort and much sensible advice to Prats and their often distressed loved ones. Auntie Molly has asked us to pass on her warmest regards to all of her many friends and to say that her Dameship in Two Bounce's last birthday honours list was the high point in a long career of service. On a point of clarification, when we say Two Bounce's last birthday, he may be looking a bit peaky but we understand that he is still moving about and so we look forward to many, many more years out of the old dog yet. Ah, Two Bounce that is, not Auntie Molly.

All is not lost however, as we have been fortunate to pip B Sky B at the post and to obtain the services of a new columnist for the forthcoming season, noneother than the survivor of many a marvellous party, the Voice of SW3, the legendary, Deirdre Dahling. Miss Dahling will be heading up the society column and would be delighted to hear from readers on any matter for discussion. As a brief introduction to the delights to come here are a few words of introduction from Miss Dahling.

Well, Hello, Dahlings.
One was simply thrilled to be invited to join your happy little band at Newsletter. One simply gets so jaded writing those beastly little ego boosters for Hello and OK, especially the northern edition, OK, Pet? It will be absolutely spiffing to be able to engage in the real issues that are important to people like you, the down to earth lower classes, sorry, socially challenged people. It will simply be a journey of delight for me to find out what makes you tick. I was saying to Camilla just the other evening, you remember, at that simply frightful testimonial do at the Savoy she laid on for that cad, Hague, "Camilla, what can you be thinking of raising money for such a man" I said "when whole sections of the community outside South Ken cannot even afford a Christmas summer do?" Well, Camilla just stared at me blankly. "Oh my gosh" she replied "doesn't simply everyone live in South Ken? Oh Deirdre, you tease, you almost had me there. I had completely forgotten Windsor."

So, what shall I write to you about? I was pondering this over a small dinner party with some close friends the other evening when Butler (the butler) entered the room, resplendent as ever in evening dress, white gloves etc. With a blinding flash of, divine, I suppose, inspiration, the Archbishop asked "Butler, old chap, you're socially challenged, what do you people find important? What sort of issues really concern people like the Prats?" " With the greatest respect, Your Grace" retorted Butler (the butler) with a slight but respectful bow, "how the f**k should I know, I've never even heard of the sods." "Put it this way, sunshine. Is she being paid? Thought not. So what do they want for f**k all, f*****g Shakespeare?" "Thank you, Butler. As ever you seem to have hit that particular nail on the head perfectly. Isn't he such a treasure, Your Royal Highness?"

That's it for now, Dahlings, but please write to me on any subject at all and I, with Butler's help, will endeavour to massage away all your worries. By for now, Dahlings.

Thank you Deirdre Dahling, and Butler (the butler). We look forward to your contributions over the forthcoming season.

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And another new feature this season will be, in response to popular demand,

Exchange and Tart

Something you've got. Something you want. Something to swap.
Just drop a line.

We already have some items, so perhaps you might be interested in one of the following :-

Right, that's about it for now, lads.

Back to the bib and tucker on Friday.

Cheers,

Your old mate

Brian

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