Dear Mr Callender,
Herr Quinn has forwarded your useless report from Kilmarnock to the Race Report desk for my examination and/or reply.
Unfortunately, we have no Ludicrous Gibberish desk, or it would have ended up there.
What kind of lame, half-mad bullsh*t are you trying to sneak over on us? When Westerlands asks for a ‘Race Report’, goddammit, we want a flockin’ Race Report…and don’t try to weasel out with any of your pretentious nonsense about “non-linear pastiche concerning the immediacy of the moment, etc…” You were only running for 14 minutes!
Do you take us for a gang of brainless lizards? Rich hooligans? Dilettante thugs?
You lazy b*astard. I want that Race Report on my desk by next Wednesday. And I want straightforward narrative, touches of local detail and a documentary record of the results. The time has come & gone when cheapjack scum like you can get away with the kind of scams you got by us in the past.
Get your worthless a*rse off the podcasts and back to your laptop. Your type is ten a penny round here these days Callender, and I’m damned if I’m going to stand for it any longer.
[With apologies to Hunter S Thomson.]