Dear Mr. Stardust

Please allow me to be frank.
 
I would, under any circumstance, be unwilling to become your "Coo-Ca-Choo", despite your constant and repeated prompting. On perusal of your "lyrics", which one can only describe as rather lewd, it can be presumed that a "Coo-Ca-Choo" is some kind of drug-users’ slang term for a sexual plaything; therefore, I must confess that I found myself disappointed, nay shocked, that you would consider your request appropriate to a gentleman of my standing and demeanour. I was particularly saddened by your suggestion that we "groove on the mat" during your vile second verse.
 
Fortunately my wife was rather preoccupied removing a delicious "Shepherd's Pie" from the oven while you performed your depraved panting on the BBC's otherwise excellent popular music show "Top of the Pops". One can only imagine the effect on her emotional state, and indeed our evening meal, had she glanced up to see your creepy Edwardian sneer looming out of the television.
 
I must inform you that any further advances will of course be vigorously rebuffed, and referred, if deemed necessary, to the Police Force. I would also like to recommend that you aspire to the values lyrically espoused by your counterpart Mr Glitter, who as far as I am aware is of impeccable character.

Yours

Wilf Turnbull

 

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