OUR Man in Westminster, Sir Charles ‘Chatty’ Chatterton MP, is committed to truth, transparency and decency. He is happy for TCW Defending Freedom to publish his correspondence to his constituents. Sir Charles has represented the people of Greater Tittleham since entering Parliament in 1966 but is planning to retire at the next General Election.
My Dear Friends
Many a time and oft have I wandered through Great Tittleham Woods with trusty Purdey to hand accompanied by my faithful retriever, Tebbit, in search of suitable game, illegal aliens, ranting socialists or impudent poachers. As I patrol the woods I have been wont to contemplate the sorry state of my once vaguely respectable party and the dire straits the nation has been forced to navigate since dear Margaret was undermined by the pompous poltroon Heseltine and the undercooked pancake that was Howe.
At this point I must add that I offer my profuse apologise for the occasions I have inadvertently targeted the Middle Tittleham Women’s Institute as they conduct their Saturday Stroll along the permissive path. I have suggested to their secretary, Mrs Stanshall, that the walk leader rings a bell as they proceed through the woods.
There have been times when I been tempted to follow your pleadings to establish my own political party. Had I done so the ChatCons, as they would have been named, would have quickly re-established order and stability. Simply by restricting the franchise to property owners over the age of 40, the thoughtful and thrifty would have selected parliamentarians with a modicum of sense and responsibility.
Since publicly expressing my disgust with the contemporary Conservative Party I have naturally been approached to lend my considerable weight to advocate on behalf of other parties. A fellow called Thrice offered me all sorts of inducements to join something called the Redeem or Refuge Party. I demurred when I noticed that Thrice was consorting with the rascal Zelensky and had been promoting the killer jabs.
A significant benefit of being an occasional visitor to the back benches is that I need to spend less time in the fetid swamp that London has become. It grieves me to see that under the auspices of that wretched swivel-eyed Khan fellow the Met have transformed into a tattooed version of the Islamic religious police, the Mutawa. It can be only a matter of time before they are enforcing beards, checking hemlines and insisting upon head coverings.
I am pleased to report that under the sagacious supervision of my grandson Ivanhoe the Tittleham Territorials have been very active. We recently learned that a solar panel monstrosity was planned for the south-facing slopes of Hangman’s Hill on the outskirts of Upper Tittleham. The hill is of course held in great affection by all of us, it being the site of the demise of various pestilential witches including, in fairly recent times, the crones Sly Angela and Harriet the Harridan.
On hearing of the proposal by the environmental vandals, a cunning strategy was formulated to thwart their desecration of the area. Members of Tittleham’s Magic Circle agreed to block the access road with their customary ingenuity, trickery and subterfuge, thereby sending the enemy into a frenzy of frustration. Ivanhoe and a platoon of Young Farmers were then to immobilise any construction device that circumvented the magicians’ ruses.
In the event, a better solution was forthcoming. Mrs Innes from the WI, who has a long-standing passion for amphibians, suggested the idea of rehousing some endangered and protected Tittle newts on the Hill. An effective blockade of the access road by newt fanciers from across the county soon followed and I am pleased to report that the disgusting plans of the eco-nutters have been abandoned.
You will all be pleased to hear that after her most recent operation, Lady Veronica is now in possession of new knees and new hips. Except for occasional bout of gout she is bounding around the estate like a new-born lamb. Her implants have allowed her to become the first Tittleham Ladies’ Pickleball Champion, a title she will no doubt defend with the utmost ferocity. Her plastic medal proudly hangs from a rhinoceros’s horn amongst the Chatterton hunting trophies.
With the splendid news of her triumph over adversity, and the vanquishing of the mad environmentalists from Hangman’s Hill, I bid you adieu, and urge you all to continue the fight against the sinister, subversive and shady forces of evil.
Your ever-humble servant
Sir Charles Chatterton MP
Tittleham Hall
Middle Tittleham