letters
Some of our e-newsletters take the form of letters addressed to other people. Here are our favourites:
Dear Britney
Dear Predator
Dear Valentine
Dear Bathtime
Dear Radiohead
Dear Lord Sauron
Dear George W. Bush
Dear Maggot Infested Cheese Bun
Dear Britney Spears
We are writing to inform you that if ever you are in Australia, and wish to see some great comedy, you should come down to the Friend in Hand Hotel in Glebe. We realise of course that you are a busy pop princess, with a lot on her plate (not literally of course, given the importance of maintaining a trim figure if you're going to pose for all those slutty photos), but if you do happen to be in neighbourhood, you would be most welcome. We would wave the usual $5 entry fee, because (for a limited time only) we have a super celebrity discount. You can tell George Clooney about that if you see him. But anyway, we hope you will consider Friend in Hand for all your comedy needs - and let us 'hit you' with laughter 'one more time'. Ahaha.
Dear Predator
must be hard work, hunting Arnold Swarzenegger so you can clean out his skull and add it to your fine skull collection. Especially now that he is the the governor of California - security will be tight, even if you do have the technology to make yourself kind-of-invisible. I mean, you only have yourself to blame - if you'd gotten up off your intergalactic arse to vote, perhaps you could have prevented him coming to power, and so still be joyfully tracking him though the jungles of South America. But anyway, can't change the past eh? We have to deal with what is real today. And what is real is that being a psychopathic alien killing machine can be hard work - so if you need some relief, why don't you kick up your space boots at the Friend in Hand Hotel and prepare for your mandibles to ache with laughter as we present to you some of the best comedy that our primitive planet has to offer. And perhaps if they 'die' on stage, you can keep their brain cases.
Dear Valentine
You have the beauty of a thousand flowers all smashed together into one huge incredible flower. You are the wind in my hair, trickling through the hardened gel frosting like the sweet caress of a long dead lover. You are a lone cherry blossom sticking out of the snow of This Ruined World like a beacon of Last Hope, and how I do like to eat your sweet cherries. Even those that the squirrels of Destiny have found and buried. When they all starve to death because I have robbed them of their only hidden food source, I will present them to you on a plate as proof of my lasting affection, because the gift of death lasts forever. You have entwined your threads around my heart so much that you are part of me, like my finger or my boot. You make my heart sing - though the only tune it knows is 'The Macarena' so it's driving me a bit mad. And now, to prove to you the depth of my love, I am going to take you to a magical place, a paradise if you will, where you will know the joy and orgasmatronic bliss that you truly deserve. Yes, it's true my love, you and I are going to see COMEDY AT THE FRIEND IN HAND HOTEL!
Dear Bath Time
I do love squelching down amongst the bubbles and playing chasings with the soap, but ... being a hip and happening child of the modern era always means you're on the go, go, go! Why, most mornings I'm lucky if I have time to snort a breakfast bar before swan diving into my palm pilot - and, as the coolest cats know, if you wanna make it big in this town, appearances are everything. Where and when are you seen? Who are you seen with? And now that the absolutely super fabulous comedy night is going on at the Friend in Hand, I have to make MORE room in my schedule - unless I wish to discard my standing with Sydney's highest fliers! Something has to go and that's why, dear Bath Time, there's just no room for you anymore. Someone like me has to be seen, not clean. I hope you can understand. I will miss the bubbles.
Dear Radiohead
Well it seems fortune favours the brave. We at Mic in Hand have heard of your recent endeavours playing rock music in Sydney - oh yes, we have our spies. You have impressed us (that is not intended to be patronising, just a compliment from one popular entertainment group to another). It seems that you can fill a gig or two, and since you've shown you have what it takes, we at Mic in Hand can condescend to offer you a place in the open mic section of our Thursday night comedy room at the Friend in Hand Hotel! You only get five minutes, so no time for encores :) And it's comedy, no music or anything. You'll be fine.
Dear Lord Sauron
Feeling down? Depressed? Got hobbit poo stuck between your toes? Having a hard time getting over the destruction of the One Ring, with which you could have controlled all of Middle Earth? Well CHILL OUT dude, there's more to life than ruling the world with an iron fist. Even in the bleakest days, there is always LAUGHTER. So come on down to the Friend in Hand and take advantage of our 'you don't try to enslave us, we won't drop your jewellery into lava' offer.
Dear George W. Bush
It has come to our attention that recently you have sent some American comics to Iraq to bolster troop morale. We here at Mic in Hand are concerned that perhaps you are giving extremists ideas for a new form of execution - making people 'laugh their heads off' ... unless of course the comic's material is Shiite. Anyway, we thought you would like to know that we at Mic in Hand are doing our bit to keep morale high amongst the students, professionals, retirees and vagabonds who frequent our Thursday comedy room, helping them forget that certain superpowers seem hell bent on ruining the world. Keep on laughing George!
Dear Maggot Infested Cheese Bun
We do not want you in the fridge anymore. We are sorry to be rude, but that is God's Honest Truth. You have overstayed your welcome. When we first put you into the fridge, your cheese was shiny, your bread was soft, and your maggots were young and succulent. Now your cheese is dull, your bread is hard, and your maggots are gnarly and wisened. What have you got to offer us anymore, except perhaps some passing insight into the transience of beauty? Yes, it seems, a maggot infested cheese bun is just as fragile a thing as laughter. So get some laughter in while you can!
