The Man, The Myth, The Legend

Long-term readers will know how much I enjoy the letters written in to The Sloppy Star by Oswestry's finest, Mr Alwyn Cox. Before we marvel at his latest effort, let's take a moment to enjoy his previous musings:

Alwyn first came to my attention with his frankly bizarre attack on local shops and his brazen defence of that towering monolithic bastard, Tesco.

Next up was his breathtaking arrogance regarding someone having the fucking cheek to phone him up.

After a brief pause, he was back with a vengeance thanks to his scathing attack on a woman on an antiques programme.

And finally there was his contribution to that mad day when The Star's letters page went berserk with nonsense.

But this.....this, my friends, outstrips all of those. After initially being slightly annoyed by Alwyn, I now love him, as I recognise him for what he is - a first class wind-up merchant. Here's his latest effort - and I for one love it:

I have just been watching a bit of Genius of Britain on Channel Four.

I was going to watch that series actually, but I chose not to in the end. Instead I discussed with Dan on MSN who the fittest S Club 7 member was. I think we all know it was Bradley.

And then that "I am a genius in a wheelchair" Steven (sic) Hawking came on and it was time to turn off.

This is bad of me, as a university student, but I'm just going to consult the online encyclopaedia wikipedia for a brief Stephen Hawking biography. Here are the main aspects to his life:

• Honorary Fellow of the Royal Society of Arts
• Lifetime member of the Pontifical Academy of Sciences
• Awarded CBE
• Awarded Presidential Medal of Freedom
• Professor of Mathematics at Cambridge University
• Distinguished Research Chair at the Perimeter Institute for Theoretical Physics
• Best-selling author (book was on the Best Sellers List for 237 weeks)
• Eddington Medal winner
• Hughes Medal winner
• Albert Einstein Medal winner
• Franklin Medal winner
• Gold Medal of the Royal Astronomical Society winner
• Awarded Wolf Prize in Physics
• Awarded Companion of Honour
• Awarded Julius Edgar Lilienfeld Prize
• Earned a Ph.D.
• Professional Fellow at Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge
• Awarded Copley Medal of the Royal Society
• Prince of Asturias Award winner

Throughout his career he has studied, amongst other things:

• Quantum cosmology
• Cosmic inflation
• The density matrix of the universe
• Topology and structure of the universe
• Quantum entanglement
• String theory
• Supergravity
• Euclidean quantum gravity
• Gravitational radiation
• Wormholes
• Theoretical cosmology

With all this very firmly in mind, let's carry on with Alwyn's letter...

He was the "genius" of science who said one day time travel may be possible. That sentence alone was enough to show what an idiot the man is.

This is bad of me, as a university student, but I'm just going to consult the encyclopaedia of Alwyn Cox, Alwynpedia, for a brief Stephen Hawking biography. Here's what it says:

• Idiot in a wheelchair

If time travel is or was ever to be possible where are the time travellers. It makes no difference in time when time travel is invented, if it was ever to be possible the time travellers would have been around since the beginning of time, we would not be studying fossils of dinosaurs, we would be looking at films of them, or walking around in the past with them.

Look, I've got no bloody clue about any of this stuff, but I can't help thinking that Hawking would have perhaps pondered this dilemma at some point before. Perhaps you should ask him this stuff, not me. Would take a few minutes for him to reply, mind.

So Alwyn has just thrown Hawking under the bus (not literally, that would be hideous to watch). Who else can he shit on in this letter? Are you excited? I am!

So in my opinion he is just as daft as Einstein, because he talked a lot of rubbish also.

BOOM! HEADSHOT!

First Hawking, now Einstein. Alwyn is ballin' right now!

His biggest load of rubbish was his theory of relativity.

Rubbish. Crap. Bollocks. Fucking shit Albert!

And what was that about bees?

Apocryphal, that's what it was: http://www.snopes.com/quotes/einstein/bees.asp

They are dying out all over the world, but is not the human race?

Sentence. No. Sense. Makes.

Do not forget the world is an orb, not flat like a dinner plate.

No idea, but then neither do you, so hey-ho.

End of letter! End of letter! End of the letter!

Outstanding. In recognition of Alwyn's wind-up nature, I've decided to add him to my list of deserving people who will receive an award on my birthday. The list now stands at:

1. Jeremy Clarkson (services to common sense)
2. Kriss Akabusi (services to the word "Awooga")
3. Jeremy Spake (services to air travel)
4. Maureen Rees (services to the car industry)
5. Alwyn Cox from Oswestry (services to WUMmery)

Keep on writing in Alwyn. We all need a laugh under this government.

Sloppy Star Spectacular!

Oh, how I've been waiting for a day like this. Yesterdays letters page into The Shropshire Star was crammed full of nonsense. So whilst I wait patiently for Ana Ivanovic's 2nd round match at Roland Garros to start*, let's take a look at this clusterfuck of...well...fuck.

We start with Alwyn Cox from Oswestry, who I think you'll agree is a little star. Amusingly, I actually agree with his letter today, but its his anger over trivial, inane issues like this, writing a letter to a local newspaper about them and his general OTT nature that just makes me laugh. Let's have it:

The sunny weather does strange things to some people.

Tru dat bro.

Take for example the anabolic steroid freaks.

FREAKS! FREAKS! FREAKS!

Have you noticed how the minute the weather warms up they have a compulsive urge to walk around with naked torsos?

Freaks. Even better though are the lovely ladies in their summer clothes. Yesterday I saw a gorgeous woman wearing a low cut top, and her breas (this is irrelevant! Stop - Ed.)

Then their arms go akimbo

What a GREAT word.

and they sort of twitch their triceps and biceps.

Sort of. Maybe. Not sure.

This twitching only seems to happen as they are walking past shop windows and their eye muscles are drawn to their reflections. I thought anabolic steroids only affected their genitals,

Steady on!

but it seems that I am wrong because it obviously affects both their brain cells as well.

Ah Alwyn, you do make me laugh. Keep on writing in. Let's move swiftly on...

There's an old (fictional, no doubt) tale of a woman on a bus who is getting agitated by a man near her whistling. After a few moments she goes to the conductor and complains. "Well, what can I do about that, madam?" he enquires, to which she replies "Make him stop! At the very least, make him stop whistling that rude song!"

Okay, my Dad tells that story in a more amusing manner. But let's keep that in mind when looking at this letter from W F Kerswell from Picklescott:

The new Olympic mascots resemble some sort of sex toys. They look cheap and nasty. I am not alone in thinking that the smutty little one eyed snakes are not suitable mascots for the Olympics and should be banned before they cause offence or ridicule.

Would love to trawl through your mind my friend! I think they are quite cool, myself.

You want more? Oh, I have more. Courtesy of W H J Williams from Welshpool!

Is there a competition between Cameron and Clegg when giving interviews or speeches?

What?

It's in the national interest to know.

What?

If so I think Cameron is winning this one.

What?

So does this mean he gets to stay as senior partner?

What?

Some readers off (sic) this letter could reply that they don't agree.

What?

(end of letter)

What?

And finally...there's a letter which isn't amusing at all - in fact its one of those "thankyou to those lovely NHS people who helped me" letters which are obviously splendid. However this particular letter was sent in from:

Ursula Cock

Yes, I'm childish. But I can't help hoping that her surname is actually "Cook" and life has imitated art:

I love "Curb" far too much. And that, my friends, was your Sloppy Star round-up for now!

*I started this blog entry yesterday and then saved it overnight. Ana lost :(

Welcome Return

Let's not muck around here - it's good to have Alwyn Cox from Oswestry back writing letters into the Sloppy Star. Who could forget his bizarre pro-Tesco rant? Or his demand for people to give their name, address, bank details and account of how they lost their virginity before he would speak to them on the phone? I for one certainly dont! So let's now enjoy his latest rant, and my goodness it's a doozy.

I am an avid fan of the antiques programmes that are on TV most days, but one I will never watch again.

I can't understand why anyone watches antiques programmes, but there we go. Unless Tim Wonnacott is on them - legend, tbf.

I was watching Cracking Antiques on BBC2, when I was impelled to turn it off.

At some point reading this you'll probably wonder why Alwyn has penned this letter to The Sloppy Star, or indeed why he's decided to write a letter about this at all. Don't worry, you're not alone in that.

The presenter Kathryn Rayward was painting the front of a sideboard, and when she had finished she stated that she had just increased the sex appeal of the sideboard by 300%.

Erm.....right....

What did the fool mean?

THE FOOL! I PITY THE FOOL!

She probably meant that she had made it look nicer. Just a thought.

Why does she need to use a ridiculous phrase like that to describe a bog standard paint job on a bog standard sideboard from the sixties?

Complain. Seriously. Not to us - write to the BBC, get them to sack her. If they won't do that, they might sack that cunt Robert Peston instead, so it's well worth doing.

Does she not realise how silly she sounds?

Silly. Fool. Silly fool!

Well she has done it for me.

You secretly fancy her don't you? I like the idea that this letter is like boys at school, where they tease and pick on the girl they actually really fancy.

I will never watch another programme that I know she has had anything to do with.

Alwyn, you big flirt you!

(end of letter)

Alwyn: "Thanks for coming Jeff! Oooh, claret? You shouldn't have, really. 1992 Australian, looks splendid! Thanks very much - come on through, everyone else is here already."

(Alwyn leads Jeff into the living room, introduces him to all his other friends)

Alwyn: "My wife is making hot dogs for half time, we've got snacks over there and there's a fridge full of Heineken so just ask if you want one. Right, here we go then!"

Gary Lineker (on TV): "Good evening - it's that time again. A place in the World Cup Final beckons, but only if England can conquer their Argentinian foes, a team containing a certain Leo Messi and managed by an old friend...with the exclusive team news, let's cross pitchside and join our reporter, Kathryn Rayward!"

Alwyn: F*@%£$@*%$^&$!

Oh God, He's Back

Remember our old friend Alwyn Cox from Oswestry? He's back, kids, and he's even grumpier than usual. Whilst this latest letter into the Sloppy Star isn't particularly interesting, it's made me laugh enough to blog about it. Cynical Ben - fear not! I have not forgotten the straw hats blog. Oh no! But let's have a look at this letter first:

Dear council employees, if any of you find it necessary to contact me by telephone again do not have the temerity to hide behind a withheld number.

Useful letter this. Thanks for writing this in to the local newspaper, and not the council themselves.

If you need to withhold your number for whatever self important reason you have given yourself to justify doing so, then you must tell me who I am speaking to before I tell you if you have contacted the person you wish to speak to.

I have a slight problem here. This Morning has just started, featuring the lovely Holly Willoughby. I currently have man flu, meaning I have a box of tissues next to me. We also have workmen in, and one of them has just walked in to ask me something whilst I'm sitting here in my pyjamas, watching Holly Willoughby with a box of tissues next to me. You do the math.

Don't you dare ever again phone me on my personal phone and expect me to identify myself to an anonymous voice.

Are you still banging on? Jesus, we get the point.

If you phone me, you tell me who you are before I speak to you.

Is it just me, or is this breathtaking arrogance?

The woman that phoned me on Thursday found that she had to identify herself pretty quickly before I cut her off.

That's one way to interact with a woman. Another good one is to kick her in the fanny. Trust me on that one, Alwyn.

Only when I knew who I was speaking to did I tell her that she was speaking to the intended person. It would have been much better if she had identified herself the moment that I answered the call. Better manners also.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Try something like the following - "Good after-noon. I am Mrs So-and-so speaking from Shirehall. Can I please speak to Mr Cox?"

Breath taking. I literally do not know what to say about this anymore.

Good manners do not take a lot of brain power.

End of letter. Wow. The funny thing is Alwyn, I'm half-tempted to agree with you, if you weren't being such a pompous buffoon about it.

Next week in Alwyn's letter - how a waitress should serve him correctly!

Adventures in Greendale

I've teased you with this, and despite wanting to give it a few days, I can't resist it any longer. My fingers are literally itching, although that may just be a fungal infection. So, without any more babble, let us look at a letter into Monday's Shropshire Star, penned by the splendid Alwyn Cox from Oswestry. For any new readers (Hannah) - Alwyn's letter will be in a bold font, my responses in this normal font. Let's do this thing.

So now the shopkeepers in Ellesmere are complaining that the arrival of Tesco has damaged their businesses and caused job losses.

This is unfortunate, and is a sign of the times. Whether you like it or not though, it is true.

This is not true.

Oh, okay.

The workers at Tesco do not stand in the high street and kidnap customers and force them to buy Tesco products.

Not true Alwyn! I was once walking past Tesco when an employee rugby tackled me to the ground and demanded that I went in and bought some bananas, a Tweenies DVD and a pack of large condoms. I did what I was told.

The free choice of the public allows them to shop where they want to shop.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I only need small ones.

They obviously choose to shop in Tesco. So it is the public that are damaging the small businesses because they do not want or need them. We live in a world of free markets. The consumer is king, and if they choose to shop in the likes of Tesco and Sainsbury then so be it.

This is not news, Alwyn. Nor is it particularly interesting. I'm going to need you to spice up this letter with something stupid - about anything. Cheese. Paul O'Grady. Post Offices. Whatever!

They have decided that they no longer want to tramp from the greengrocer to the butcher, then onto the grocer and newsagent hauling more and more packages with them as they go from warm to cold to warm moving from one shop to the next.

Get on with it.

They want the convenience of everything in one place, so they go to a supermarket.

I've just suddenly twigged what Alwyn is doing here. Yes, kids, he's read my blog about how to write/bullshit your way through an essay, and now he's practising with this letter! This is precisely what is happening here - there can be no other reason to just type a load of stuff that we all know and is completely unnecessary.

Alwyn, get crazy, and get crazy quick.

Same with the post office.

At last!

Who cares if they are closing? I don't.

Might just be the most egotistical sentence I have ever read, ever. And considering I sometimes read back my old blog entries, that takes some doing Alwyn.

I buy my car tax online. I do not need postal orders - you know, those funny things the post office sells that cost more than the object that they are used to pay for.

It gets worse kids.

If I need other currency I get it from a hole in the wall in the country that I am visiting, it is cheaper and I get it as I need it.

Enjoy being mugged.

I do not write letters on bits of paper, then shove them into other bits of paper, and then stick other bits of paper, that I would have to purchase, on to them only to have to tramp to a red box on the street corner, shove all these bits of paper into this box and hope that a man in uniform will come and collect my bits of paper and deliver them to the address that I have written on the front.

There is so much shit there I wouldn't know where to start. And I'm at university, pretending to be studying John Milton. Currently, I'm not sure who I hate more - Alwyn or Milton. It's a toughie. I particularly enjoy Alwyn taking 5 lines to describe writing a letter and posting it. He really has been reading my essay guide, clearly.

I'm just going to move on, because re-reading that just makes me even more annoyed. Also, I don't want Sue to take too long imagining a man in uniform. Have a sit down Sue!

He will not come, of course, because he has decided not to work as a way of protesting against progress, just like those whingers complaining about Tesco.

I'm tired of this nonsense. I'll leave that sentence for Vole to foam at the mouth about.

I send e-mails like this letter to the Star. I pay all my bills by direct debit or online banking. I buy all my clothes in online shops.

My grandmother is a 70 year old woman who lives on her own, and wouldn't know the internet if www.dutchgirlswithbigboobies.orgy slapped her round the face. For her, her local post office is crucial. And I'm 22, so I'm not one to hark back to "the good old days" but I'd be gutted if all post offices closed down. For many elderly people, they are important, and give them just a little feeling of community, as they go and socialise to the same people every week as they collect their pension. Not everyone has the internet.

If my shopping habits cause the demise of small over-expensive shops, then so be it. Turn them all into bistros, restaurants, pubs and housing.

Alwyn Cox's priorities in life, in order - Food. More food. Drink. Somewhere to live.

Turn the high streets into pedestrian zones with tables and chairs,

Could you not just move to Paris, please?

trees, and roundabouts for the kids to play on. Move with the times and enjoy life, stop harking on about how things used to be and look to how they will be.

I'm starting to get tired of this, and I do really need to do some actual work. I think the main problem here is that I'm not 100% sure who you are attacking, considering you've taken a scatter gun to a few different people and things.

That is what Tesco did. When I did a Saturday job in Tesco as a schoolboy over 40 years ago it was a little corner shop with all its goods still in boxes stacked on the floor. Look at it now. I would say it is doing something right, probably giving the public what it wants.

End of letter. I am dazed and confused.

I know this has been a really long entry, so if you couldn't be bothered to read all of that, I'm now going to provide you with a summary of Alwyn's letter:

I don't

I buy

I do not need

If I need

I get it from

I am visiting

I get it as I need it

I do not write letters

I would have to

I have written

I send e-mails

I pay all my bills

I buy all my clothes

If my shopping habits

I did a Saturday job

I would say

Me me me me me me me me FUCKING ME