Awa the Noo

Dear John,

It is with regret that I write to tell you our brief but passionate liaison must end. And it must end now. Even though we have never met I feel as though you and I were stars twinned in orbit from the very start of existence and it pains me more than one suspects you will give credence to to cease all forms of communication at this, most delicate of times.

With horror and with disbelief I watched last night’s events at the prison unwind on the BBC. I imagined how the taunts and jeers of your fellow inmates must have stung your sensitive ears. How bad it must have felt for your rally in my favour to have fallen apart as colleagues reminded you of your circumscribed privileges in our otherwise free and democratic nation.

“Jake’s awa the noo!” and, “nick it in the pork-winder ya hash mahanny” were but two of the obscenities one could make out ‘mongst the bright red of your bold, misguided campaign.

Please know, John, that my feelings for you are as they were and as, no doubt, they shall always be. I still tremble with excitement when I remember discovering your wee notice in the quarterly newsletter. I still flush when I recall your first envelope, containing such poetry about the life of a convicted felon. My heart skips beat upon beat like an election night hopeful when I hear in my mind your first words to me on the telephone: “J…, who would’ve thought it?!”

My fine, strong John. Stay… Just… Stay. Please! If my position were any other I would, beyond reasonable doubt, have lobbied and petitioned for your release a million times over. But my resolution is to the Party and the greater good of all the people of this strident, booming nation. So… goodbye.

Regards, J.

pp. Tess Derbyshire