Delete This at Your Peril Read Online Free PDF Page A

International
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    ENGLAND
    Best Regards
    Jean Kitson
    ----------------------------------
    From: Bob Servant
    To: Jean Kitson
    Subject: Re: Employment Format
    I might be interested Jean. But right now I have some legal problems to take care of.
    Your Servant,
    Bob Servant
    ----------------------------------
    From: Jean Kitson
    To: Bob Servant
    Subject: Re: Employment Format
    Hope the problem is not that serious but you can share with me if you think I have to know about it.
    ----------------------------------
    From: Bob Servant
    To: Jean Kitson
    Subject: Re: Employment Format
    I am in big trouble. Do you know any lawyers?
    I have money.
    ----------------------------------
    From: Jean Kitson
    To: Bob Servant
    Subject: Re: Employment Format
    Sure, i know some i can introduce you to my lawyer, he is here in the UK, what do you really want? If he can assist you then i’ll tell him, hope to hear from you soon
    Jean Kitson
    ----------------------------------
    From: Bob Servant
    To: Jean Kitson
    Subject: My shame
    Jean,
    Great, can you please forward this to the lawyer –
    DO NOT JUDGE ME BECAUSE I AM A GOOD MAN.
    My name is Bob Servant. You might well have heard of me from the days when I ran the Ellieslea Road to Beach Avenue windowcleaning round. It was Howard Reoch’s beat for years but Howie lost it with the OVD and ended up shacking up with a Chinese girl in Lochee and only leaving the flat to get his hair cut.
    Anyway, I had to sell the round ten years ago when some little fucker stole my ladders. 4 From there things just turned really bad. I stopped getting work other than from bungalows, and it just wasn’t enough to run the van on. So then I was down to bungalows that I could reach on foot and there are only really four of them. It got to the stage I was turning up at those four houses a couple of times a week, then nearly every day and they soon rumbled that I was taking the piss and sacked me. So that was me.
    Since then I spend my time as a ‘man about town’. Sometimes this is a great life, but other times I get quite low. I sit in my house, eating jaffa cakes, drinking cheap wine and building duvet dens in the front room. It’s no kind of life, no kind of life at all.
    Anyway, I found a way of livening things up, which was to play pranks on my postman. His name is Trevor and he is a complete prick. At first it was basic stuff - I’d grab the letters out his hand and pretend to be a dog, or sit up on the roof and chuck a bucket of water over him.
    He complained to the police and they warned me off but that just annoyed me because what did he have to go and tell them for? So I really went to town on him. I built a hide in the garden and took pot-shots at him with an air rifle or chucked a firework at his head. It was really funny. You should have seen his face the time I hit him square on the napper with the Catherine Wheel. I think he might have been crying.
    Things came to a head last week. I hid behind a tree and jumped out with a hose but he saw me in time and rushed me. He got his sack over my head but I fought back and managed to get him on the ground. At this point the weasel managed to squirm away but I grabbed him round the top of his trousers and at the same time went for him with the hose.
    Unfortunately, he pulled away again and both his trousers and pants came off in my left hand whilst, with my right hand, I accidentally shoved the hosepipe up his bottom. The first I knew was when he let out the most incredible scream, I’ve never heard anything like it. I threw off the sack and realised what had happened but by that time he was hopping down the path, howling away with the top of the hose still protruding out of his arse. He looked a