A loving message from a mother (me) to her child (Spawn)
Spawn, on the day you were born, I thanked the good Lord for the creation of the cocoa bean, so that man could bring forth chocolate with which to eat away my misery, and for the grains produced, so that I may cry myself to sleep at night after necking down a whole bottle of gin. And if it hadn’t been for the invention of Crack, who knows where we would be right now. The doctors all told me that you were a miracle child and to that, I agree, because it’s a bloody miracle how I haven’t killed you yet.
You have proven from the start that you are a fighter and because of you, my labia lips are now stretched beyond recognition and my Lady Garden can now hold a small nation as well as it’s neighbouring country. And all because you fought so valiantly to cling on to my intestines rather than to be born on time.
Your way with words and your very presence, makes me wish that I had reached into my own womb and tied those fallopian tubes myself. But when all is said and done, you are my moon and stars…although that still doesn’t stop me from wanting to bludgeon you into near unconsciousness and laugh gleefully and a little manically over your still, prone and lifeless body. And now on to today’s letter, which is…
Cockney rhyming slang-Emma Freud (emphasis on Freud…yes I know it’s cheating because technically the first word is Emma, but I’m currently suffering from a rare disease called ‘Lazyitis’ which prevents me from looking up a word beginning with F. Oh how I suffer for my art!)
Example-“The bloomin’ doctor gave me sum cream ter treat me Emma Freud, but I daan’t fink they deserve a treat.”