Dear sir or madam,
So you’re my kid, huh? As I write this I am currently safe in the knowledge that I have never impregnated anyone that I’m aware of, and have no pressing interest in this activity anytime in the near future (impregnating, I mean, not the activity – er, well, you know what I mean, I hope). If you are reading this I assume that you do, in fact, exist, and therefore I must have knocked someone up and some court must have determined after a no doubt exhaustive legal battle that you are a product of my own drunken doing. So, hello.
I’m sure by this point that you are aware what a great guy I am, so I’m not about to remind you with a detailed breakdown and comprehensive history of my excellence. Let’s just say I’m awesome and leave it at that. The purpose of writing this letter to you, my supposed progeny, is to pass down some ideas direct from the horse’s mouth, as I may be old, broken-down, senile, and incontinent by the time you exist. On the other hand, if you’re going around referring to your old man as a horse, you’ll be feeling the back of my senile hand, punk! Continue reading