Dear Vic Godard

I am afraid, Vic Godard, that I am rather bemused at the concept of an electrified subterranean track splinter group. One wonders if your ''backing band'', Subway Sect, are in actuality a radical faction of trainspotters perhaps exaggerating the volume of observed rolling stock ticked off in their notebooks for financial gain in order to use this deceit as a 'platform' to fulfill an immoral ''Ambition'' to "Split Up the Money".

That the rogue locomotive observation data-distorting cult were often to be observed sporting cardigans in your 'early promo shots' does little to detract from this hypothesis. Indeed, it could be argued that their brazen knitted sweater public displays surely only serve to emphasise that ''nobody is sorry'', or indeed scared, in relation to the repercussion of said below ground chicanery.

 

In the presence of such a malevolent rail clan, and no matter how drowsy, you may be assured that I will from now do my utmost never to lose consciousness on any buried cosmopolitan network, or indeed, heeding the extremely sensible advice of Petula Clark, sleep in the Subway even at ground level. After a brisk stroll on the front some months ago I repaired to their branch on Commercial Road for a Meatball Marinara foot-long 'on' Hearty Italian and dozed off at my table for a few seconds. Imagine my outrage, therefore, to be awoken by a posse of errant schoolchildren blowing Sprite at my spectacles with straws and attempting to insert the tightly screwed up corners of serviettes into my ears whilst saying ''Let's make him Dumbo''.

Whilst writing, I must take considerable issue with your outlandish claim that everyone is a prostitute singing the song in prison. Were the entire population of the world to be custodially serenading ''ladies and gentleman of the night'', Vic Godard, the following insurmountable incongruities would apply

1) the target market of potential clients to solicit to would be non-existent

2) Even were the above point not to apply, the incarceration of said remunerated courtesans (for 'twenty odd years' or fewer) would nullify their ability to canvass upon traditional pitches such as but not exclusive to the following:-

Street corners

 

Red light areas (not to be confused with heaters found in the outside smoking areas of pubs and clubs),

 

Aamusement arcades, thus ceasing trade

3) Were both of the above problems to be resolved, the monopoly of contracted concubines flourishing to the extent of excluding all other occupations would naturally ensure that there would be no prison officers, convicting magistrates, people to build said facilities, or, for that matter, chefs, plumbers, cleaners or any organised society whatsoever.

Oh well. Tata for now!

Yours sincerely

Derek Philpott

P.S. The wall is not a bad religion, Sir. It is a non-denominatory partition between two areas

 

Reply from the legendary Mr. Godard, received 17/1/2015

 

 

Dear Mr. Philpott

 

Thank you for your letter. I do hope I can dispel at least some of your bemusement.

 

On the other hand, I may just deepen it.

Firstly I will admit that as a youngster I made regular forays to Kings Cross Station, half-pencil behind ear and Ian Allen in blazer pocket; however

 

To see Mr. Godard's full response click here to pre-order your copy of ''Dear Mr. Kershaw - A Pensioner Writes''


 

©2009-2014 Dawson-Rice | Website designed with the splendid help of Oast One.