Me sheila's Missing

Dear Dame Wotta,
Me sheila’s gone missin’. She won a trip to Sydney on a ‘shopping spree’ scratch and win card three weeks ago.
The sink’s full, the truck needs a wash and I’ve had to milk the cows every day, and also I can’t get me head down that far, if you know what I mean.
What do I do now?

Phillip Bruce Nugent VII

P.S. The cat misses her too.

Dear Phillip,
I’m so cross with you, but I’ll try to be patient. Don’t you understand out there in the out there, that when referring to your lady wife, you must say ‘my Sheila’, the s in Sheila always being upper-case, out of respect for womyn’s issues, which after all are often yourselves.

The state your letter was in when I received it was nothing less than disgraceful. Your handwriting is appalling, which matched your attitude, and the letter was actually still damp after traveling all that way. But then it was nestled in some beer-sodden paper toweling, and I also found a piece of bacon-rind and a toenail clipping. I had to put on gloves to deal with your problem. I almost photographed the contents of the envelope to show my dear readers, but didn’t think it appropriate at this time of the day.

I fully suspect the cat hasn’t had a decent meal in three weeks, like yourself. I can’t describe how annoying I find you.

I’d keep your head down if I were you, for I’ll be watching for more nonsense from you, and will gladly send neck stretching advice if you need it!

Dame Wotta Tripp

P.S. You do know she’s never coming back, don’t you? You’ll have more luck finding a mail-order kangaroo than you will another Sheila.