Dear Miss Katherine Jenkins…

As a svelte diva, even if she sings- it may still be over.

—

Dear Katherine,

I am writing to you in your capacity as a Welsh. Is it true that the people of Wales in fact have shorter toes than your average person? I read this in a book entitled ‘1001 Things You Don’t Need To Know About Feet’ and it has occupied my mind ever since (I know the French have over-sized thighs, but this seems a step too far).

Is it true? Are your toes in fact mere stubs? I sincerely hope not, as I have always thought of you as quite lovely, and were your feet to be stumpier than a felled tree, I would cry. Not for long, but I would cry nonetheless.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Mr Andy Murray…

Dear Andy,

You are currently playing tennis at Wimbledon, which means you must be rather busy getting on the good side of ‘Hawkeye’ (does he know Bravestarr?) and eating bananas. I however am convinced that you must still have time to check your email, while my friend George (who prefers it when the players used wooden rackets) thinks you would not indulge in such frivolous behaviour. So, the purpose of this mail is to check… do you?!

If you do it would be awfully nice of you to simply reply with the word ‘AFFIRMATIVE’ and possibly a line or two that I can print out to show George (he is currently in hospital and not allowed near computers).

Good luck in the tournament, and please don’t hit a ball-boy (or woman).

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Miss Sam Fox…

Dear Samantha,

I am afraid I am writing this email in somewhat of a rush, so do forgive the lack of witty metaphor or multi-layered narrative. (I am rushing to send this email before a week away in the Lake District with my friend George – we are hoping to read the full works of Lewis Grassic Gibbon during our stay).

The reason for my email however, is to ask if you currently have, or have ever had, a pet turtle? I understand from a man who sells socks (3 pairs for £2) in our local pub that you do, as his mum knows your hairdresser’s uncle, or possibly child. I am keen to know if this is true as I bet the sock man a packet of Quavers that you don’t. You strike me less an an amphibious person, more pure reptilian.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Adrian Chiles…

Dear Adrian,

How goes it? I am writing with a concern I have, for your health. I see you on a huge cross section of programmes, too many for the average man to handle (well maybe Brian Blessed but then I doubt very much he is mere man), and yet you do so with some aplomb.

Surely it must make you ill, working like that. I had an uncle once who worked similarly hard and he worked to such an extent one Summer that his foot burst. Twice. I hope you do not befall a similar fate.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Frankie Dettori…

Horses for courses…

—

Dear Frankie Dettori

I have a terrible phobia of horses (I regularly dream I am being served rotten pork by an arrogant horse in a rundown Chinese restaurant for example). This has never been a problem before, however I have been invited to a dressage event by a friend of a friend of a friend and would be embarrassed to admit the truth. What do you recommend? Would you be able to lend me a horse I could maybe talk to once in a while?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Charlotte Church…

Dear Charlotte Church,

According to my CD collection you have the voice of an angel. Would you be willing to lend this voice to the part of Angel No. 2 in an audio recording of The Nativity?

I am making it as a present for the blind children of The Gambia as a replacement to my monthly cash sponsorship which I had to stop recently due to an unexpected expense replacing a horse.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Dale Winton…

Dear Dale,

According to some notes I found underneath my bed last night (I was foraging for a working biro) you are – and I quote from faded post-it – ‘…due to play Raskolnikov in a mime version of Crime And Punishment in Chesterfield in August’. Is this true? If so do you know any of the box office details, as I would like to try and secure a seat. However, I need to take into account a dentist appointment and visit to a pet cemetery.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear David Mitchell…

Dear David,

On watching you on television the other night I noticed that you bear an uncanny resemblance to my butcher, Geraldo (he isn’t Italian, but I think he would like to be). Do you know him? He serves up some of the best black pudding in all of London and rears his own rabbits. I will be asking him if he is part of the Mitchell clan on my next visit, but would like some ammo from your end in advance.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Davina McCall…

Dear Davina,

I am having problems with Henry, my older brother.

He promised to buy our mother a birthday present (a rather garish ornament depicting the Battle of the Somme as fought by farmyard animals) and I thus gave him a cheque for £50. He however has not cashed this cheque, claiming to have lost it and is insisting I supply the payment now in cash. I do not wish to do this as I am sure he will spend the money on cake (he has a weight problem and nearly died last year).

What do you think I should do?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Cheryl Cole…

Geordie princess

—

Dear Cheryl,

How’s it going? I see you are to be the new X-Factor judge (a favourite of mine though my friend George prefers his ‘Poldark’ videos) – congratulations! Are you looking forward to it? I used to be called in to my local Scout hut to judge the ‘cookery’ badge so I know how you feel. I also decorated woggles around the Christmas period for them – I do miss that…

All the best with your endeavour on the show, I look forward to seeing you being withering to an overweight gentleman from Loughborough or such.

Yours,
—

Herbert Rumbelow