A Letter to The Chairman.

MK,

Obrigado, obrigado, obrigado for the day by day post mortem report. I read it with a heavy heart.

A whole list of the dear departed, Crowhurst, Dilotto, Denzel and even, other than in spirits, Monty Monty.

Thankfully the right man won.

The complete man of Newark, performer of so many parts, statistician, odd jobber, absentee landlord, proper(ty) magnet, General Flatulant himself, Honest John.

“You can always feel safe backing me,” he cries, “but not if you are backing me.”

Sadness, oh sadness for the ever nearsly man, good effort but no cigar, Hoppy.

The jockeying for position was truly exciting, but Honest John was there all the way ready to pounce with a run down the final straight.

Evidently, Chairman, you are still Chairman, despite the temporary bout of impetuosity.

Heavy responsibility takes it’s toll, and I fully sympathise with the ever present concerns and anxieties involved in holding such a lofty office.

Can Hoppy hold it all together and score?

Can Monty manage with his left hand?

Will Honest John be overcome with the smell of success?

Will Chilli find his way home without Denzel?

Will Slop miss the post? Will Biffa’s buggy keep going?

Will Sir Michael ever realise his rightful regal destiny?

Will Toni Whoevero return dispirited and forlorn to join the ranks of the forgotten?

And will you, Chairman, despite all these wearisome travails, continue to keep yourself off the bottom.

It’s gettin’ fuckin’ ‘ot “ere.

Denzel