Bon Jovi's headucation

Deer Jelly, what exquisite joy too heer your dull-sit voice waft over the rolling tundra of Co Tyrone again.
As you no, Gerry Anderson is in hospital having bionic legs fitted two his chassie in preperation for the Borstal marathon in America.
All our hopes, prayers and expectations are resting, like a parrot on the stooped, frail shoulders of the little man with the thinning hare.
How is you Jelly? Us, myself and my son Bon Jovi are as well as could be respected. Bon Jovi's headucation is astonshing the professors and Don's at saint Judas primary skool in Clougher.
Knot only is the cub up to the oxters with adding and substraction. Bon Jovi is breaking knew ground in the highly and respected world of dark matter.
Every day Bon Jovi endevors too shine a light on the elusive dark matter which abounds in the Universe like specs of suit. The cub wool go far Jelly. The cloistered towers of academia in Gortin beckon.
Your golf club carrier, Sean Thaddeaus Coyle did a fare to middeling job. But as you no Jelly, Mr Coyle is stuck like a luddite in the past. Mr Coyle is the only man in Ulster who is eagery awaiting the return of kipper ties and flared trousers. Coyle did his best, but in Bon Jovi's opinion is, knot fit for porpoise.
I must away Jelly. It is imperitive I shave my big, thick legs with my late daddy's cut-throat razor.Too wee spiders have taken up abode behind my knees and are feasting abundably on the flies, gnats and daddy-long-legs that get entangled and snared in the hares on my Venus-like legs.
I is your 'umble serviette, Rosie Ryan. xxx