Dear QueenZoners, please find it in your dumb old hearts to pray for the speedy recovery of my good pal and fellow two-time QueenZoner Of The Year Sir Archie Leach, the old squelch.
Regular contributors will know that poor Archie is a somewhat sickly pup, and can often be found down the quacks, sniffing out a sicknote for some invented ailment or other.
But it transpires that the rickety old boot has been genuinely struck down by the dreaded mumps and his jaw has expanded into David Coulthard proportions.
Please, I beg of you, stifle your guffaws!
I have warned our weary patient that the mumps can make us chaps infertile, turning us into jaffas (seedless), and so have advised him to check the consistency of his next emission.
I will pop round to Leach Hall first thing in the morning to check his wallet for signs of life.
I trust your thoughts and best wishes are with poor Archie at this dark time...
It would however appear I've been a tad hasty in my diagnosis. Upon further inspection the swelling in my cheeks/jaws has been revealed as a half saved Cornish pasty from 1982.
It would appear the original theory of 'infected saliva gland' still remains. However, the Reform Club accounts commitee need not know this as they are allowing me extended credit on my bar bill until I'm better.
It looks like I'll never get to use my line 'There's no need for protection love, I'm a jaffa'. Pity that, I'll have to stick with ladies of a certain age.
Love Sir Archie.
Actually Flashman you old dope, upon reading your message again it reminds me of your earlier get well message back in May.
Has Microsoft created a personalised get well message for the great Sir Archie?
Or are you just a lazy old crone?
You see what happens when we don’t go out on the razz on Friday nights? We’re up all night on this fucking thing.
If you weren’t so toxic, we could have been out chasing skirt and trading insults in the flesh.
Get some soup and Lucozade, and get to bed, you ill git.