The content on this webpage contains paid/affiliate links. When you click on any of our affiliate link, we/I may get a small compensation at no cost to you. See our affiliate disclosure for more info -----------------------
Last updated on August 9th, 2017 at 08:29 am
The horror. On Thursday, it was as if I’d woken to Armageddon. As if I, still grieving for the loss of a plausible alternative government, had now lost not only my family and friends but my connection to kindred spirits across the globe. I’d missed the Age’s “In Brief” and hadn’t twigged that my Auntie was on strike. Day and night I twiddled the dial for RN, but, alas, could retrieve nothing but cool jazz and BBC radio doing a parody of Dead Ringers. Yes, Auntie, I know Master is starving, mutilating and beating you to death. But I can’t tolerate life without you. If you ever leave me, can I come too?
Lola Hill, South Yarra
Her name was Lola
She was a slow girl …
UPDATE. More comedy from Age letter writers. President Leunig?
