Dear Manchester United
Am I correct in thinking that under the government’s anti-discrimination laws you cannot refuse my applying for the position of mid-fielder without being accused of sexism, racism, ageism and unsuitabilityism? I don’t think you can, and therefore compel you, on threat of a court injunction, to consider me for the position the next time it comes up.
I am a fat, old, stringently anti-communist, Chinese woman who came to Britain in 1948 to escape that rat bastard Chairman Mao’s death squads. I have done nothing since except prostitute my body out for money. Sadly, as I’ve dried up, the money’s dried up, and this is the reason I need to become a well-paid Premiership footballer. I’ve bills to pay and now I’ve sold anything half-decent to those thieving bastards at Cash Converters, it’s top-flight football or having my fingers crushed in a vice to pay the debts I owe to a disagreeable gentleman called Alan Cope and his brother Ollie.
I reckon I’d do alright being a footballer. I’ve seen the game three times on my television when I couldn’t find the remote control under the mountain of litter in my house, and believe I could take a pretty good stab at the rules. I have noticed there seems to be a lot of running around however, and would ask that, if you were to give me the job, I could be allowed a nice sit down, a cup of tea, and a biscuit about every five minutes or so. I’m not so smart on my legs these days ever since Alan Cope broke my thigh bones with a meat tenderiser after I failed to pay him back the money I borrowed to buy an electric guitar I hoped to use when I applied to join Deep Purple. I certainly couldn’t take ninety minutes running around with those young bucks of yours – I’d probably suffer a complete rectal prolapse!
Thank you for considering me for the position of mid-field professional footballer and I look forward to hearing from you soon. In the meantime, can you advance me a sub of two thousand pounds or so? Alan’s an impatient man and won’t wait forever to get to work on these fingers of mine.
Yours truly
Bing Ping Perri
