Rosie's Wildlife Reserve

Deer Gerry, my old friend and come padre. If I were to ask you two sum up in too words the character of Rosie Ryan.
I no, as sure as God made little green men on Mars, that you wood say,
"Self Defecating".
And I thank you Gerry for that ringing endorsment.
I am self defectating. Even as a young cuttie I practised the art of self defecation. All us Ryan's have bean self defecators. Some familys bear the mark of Cain. Us Ryans proudly wear the mark of self defecation.
Gerry, I have bean most horribly malignant in the letters page of the Clougher (And surrounding districts) Times. Some gulpin, riting under the none-de-plum of "One who cares" gave me a wild doing.
Why Gerry?--Why? I keep to myself. I bother know wan. I spend all my thyme, delving into all aspects of arts and culture. That is why the Clougher people loathe, hate and dispise me. They sea me as a tall poppy, sticking my head above the paraquat and they want to cut it off. I scare them with my wild Hi intelect.
They wood burn me for a witch. Only for the fear of discovery bye UTV Live or BBC Newsline.
I is an Ann-ommily. I don't fit in. They don't want a Rosie Ryan about the plaice.
Gerry, here is the letter, "Audi alteram partem".
"Deer people of Clougher and surrounding districts. Have any of you noticed the eye sore on the way into Clougher? YES! I am talking about the kip of Rosie Ryan and her son Bon Jovi. The garden is a wildernest, filled with rusty prams, bicycle wheels and a veritabe heap of old po's. Has Rosie Ryan no civic pride? Has Rosie Ryan know respect for the countryside? Who does Rosie Ryan think she is?. I have, on more than one occasion, seen Rosie Ryan, wearing little or nothing, dash across the busy road to empty two po's. It is time Clougher council got out there and cleaned up the pig stye that is the abode of, Rosie Ryan. Signed "One Who Cares".
I was galvanised Gerry. Galvanised into action. I grabbed parchment and quill and responded thus.
"Saluto Clougherarians, This is Rosie Ryan calling.
I wish to despond to the gulpinish remarks made about me last weak bye, "Wan who cares".
I wish two make it plane that I am know, slattern, trallop or scum bag. I have the highest regard for Hi-Jean. My sun, Bon Jovi is washed every fore months with Lifeboy soap and scrubbed until his skin takes on the sheen of a shaved pig. KNOW po is left under the bed for more than fore daze. My front garden is knot a wildernest. It is a wildlife reserve. I cultivate nettles, dockens and weeds to give habitation to the poor wee butterflies. As for the po's-frogspawn have to live somewhere.
I am glad, YES! do you heer me? Glad that I don't live in Clougher. Sin City. The sex capital of Europe and surrounding districts. I am true to the faith of my fathers. You won't sea Rosie Ryan leaping like a mad savage to the beat of a boom-boom box until eight or nine o'clock at nite. I will be down on my knees, preying or prying a reluctant po out from under the bed.
People of Clougher. I pity you. When the fire and brimstone rain down on you. I will turn my eyes towards Gortin. In fear I may be turned into a pillar of Saxa salt. REPENT! REPENT! Or suffer the wrath of an all mercyfull God. I go now to consort with Sarate, Volaire, Plato and Barney McCool".
That should put the people of Clougher in their plaice Gerry. If you are ever up this way and some boy asks you how you wood sum up Rosie Ryan. Don't stop to think Gerry. Just roar out-"Self Defecating". 'Cause 'tis the truth. There is know bigger self defectator in Clougher than-Rosie Ryan.
I leave you now Gerry. So you kan carry on ministering to those who are a bit touched in the head.
From your woodland sprite--Rosie Ryan xxx