Studied insults

In Competition No. 2436 you were invited to supply a very rude letter in which the writer terminates the services of an employee, tradesman or professional person.

The most successfully rude letter ever written is surely Dr Johnson’s to Lord Chesterfield with its superb combination of sarcasm and sorrow: ‘Is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached ground encumbers him with help?’ For the curious, Max Beerbohm’s samples of very rude letters can be found in the essay ‘How shall I word it?’ in And Even Now. ‘Even Jehovah’s witnesses avoid our door.’ ‘You have the dress sense of a Rutland scarecrow.’ ‘You are to PR what Karl Marx was to landscape gardening.’ ‘Your inability even to carry a spear convincingly takes lack of talent to new depths.’ With your insults ringing in my ears I award the prizewinners, printed below, £25 each and hand the bonus fiver to Hugh King.

Dear Miss Whiplash,
As a result of your excruciatingly painless performance yesterday and a recent deterioration in discipline I am terminating our agreement and cancelling your standing order. Like many in the public services, you may be suffering ‘burnout’, but that is no excuse for exchanging your stilettos for hideously cosy slippers; nor is the inclement weather grounds for woolly rather than the customary fishnet tights. Your half-hearted inquiries as to who’s been a naughty boy sound like an insipid interview on Woman’s Hour. Those pathetic handcuffs might have come out of a Christmas cracker and the botched Sellotape repairs to your whip disgrace your profession. Perhaps you misunderstand the convention that your appearance should be rather scary: your recently acquired blubber and untended whiskers give you the menace of a walrus. As to your latest wig, let me confine myself to the observation that tangerine is not your colour.
Hugh