General Gash's Bulging Sack
Past Letters: Issue #1| Issue #2 | Issue #3 | Issue #4 | Issue #5 | Issue #6 | Issue #7

Ah, good afternoon children! I shan't bore you with the tedium of my week. Suffice to say, if I see another fucking Libyan asylum seeker shaking his fucking stumps at me I'll go sodding spare.

Anyway, enough of my unpleasantness. Naturally I've been thrilled to see that our first issue has met with such a fantastic response. None of our other propaganda sheets have been quite so appreciated, not even the Fulham Chronicle, so all of us here at Headquarters are most impressed. If you too would like to get hold of us (wahey!) then drop a line to We can handle it. Specially when the shouts of praise are so deafening!

However, there were a few of you who felt rather put out, beginning with Barry Wigham, from Bermondsey...

"Dear General Gash,

I was saddened to see the subject of male rape once again trivialised in the media. Those of us who have endured the nightmare, of course, find it no laughing matter and I was mortified to see a chimp like yourself stand up and approve of such lowest-common-denominator tripe. Please, General Gash, assure me that no such liberties with sensitive material will be taken in subsequent issues.

Yours painfully,"

I'd love to promise, Barry, but alas it is out of my hands. The scumbag who writes and creates this rag is clearly a gentleman of dubious tastes but I assure you that everything portrayed herein is accurate to real events, or at least as accurate as we can ascertain given the shaky evidence on hand.

Mr Smith may be a perverse individual but I am sure that he would never deviate from historical fact. Even for his own sordid, moist amusement.

Next, a missive from Shannon Lake, in Hammersmith who seems to care for the children and little else...

"Dear General Gash,

I was horrified to come home last week to find my four-year-old son looking at your ghastly website. There should be special prisons for people like you.

Yours, disgusted,"

Your four-year-old son shows exceptional taste. You, on the other hand, show a startling amount of ignorance as to the sexual development of children in this day and age. They're all at it, fucking toddlers and babies and tweens. I turn a blind eye. My species would never engage in such filth. We eat our young as soon as possible after birh to avoid such awkward situations.

Anyway, after that difficult interlude, a more polite epistle from Arthur Smith...


I was most tickled to read the first volume of your magnificent periodical. I have never seen the like since the glory days of the Whizzer and Chips back in '56. In fact, it was in '56 when I first met a chap named Charlie Whelan. Now Charlie was an odd sort of chap, with two left eyes, or so he told me, but I never let that get in the way of our friendship. It was in Borneo that I first caught the hint of his perversions when he grasped one of the locals about the ears and proclaimed him to be the most attractive Chinawoman he had ever seen...(Continues...)"

Jesus Christ! You again!? Won't you just fuck off and die already?

Crikey, now, Kevin Southall from Perivale has this to say...

"Dear General Gash,

Congratulations on the first issue. I was thrilled to hear that finally my favourite chimp would have his own comic. Of course, imagine my disapointment when I discovered that you weren't even the main character! Instead, that glory-hogging scumbag Brompton Rhodes had taken all the credit. What's going on there? Do you need someone to come round and have a word?

Yours angrily,

Ps. I am a black belt if that helps?"

Well, Kevin, as kind as that is, I think I'm surrounded by quite enough sycophants. Besides, if Mr Rhodes ever became a threat to mine or the Mayor's position I'm fairly confident our enforcement services could handle it.

You, on the other hand, I am most worried about. We can't just have psychotic black-belt idiots roaming about our fair City, and thus, you may now have discovered that you are in custody.

For your own good, you understand? The regular beatings are of course, part of your therapy.

Hopefully our final writer, Karen Muggs from Battersea won't also be forced to endure a waterboarding...

"Dear General Gash,

Are you single????? And if so, are you looking!!!!???

Yours lustily,"

I was wrong.

Join us next month folks! Until then be good, say your prayers, and give thanks every day that Dominique Strauss-Khan is not your employer...