Mrs. Cherie Blair of Croyden, UK, the sullen and petulant wife of a gormless, failed, has-been British politician, writes:
Dear Grammer Genious,
I'm writing to you because you seem clever and utterly without attitude (for an American).
Why do you lot say “gotten”? There's no such word, you know. I got into an argie-bargie about it with Laura Bush at our garden party a fortnight ago, but the Tonester said I was rat-arsed and kept whispering at me to naff off and shut my cake hole (he's keen to visit Texas again – he wants a bigger cowboy hat). This was after my party had turned into a complete piss-up and everything had gone all pear-shaped, and the old git knob-head was on the pull and had got pissed and fell arse-over-tit into the marquee, and the minger old bint tipped both her kedgeree and her spotted dick down her strawberry creams and onto the silk Persian carpet that the Ayatollah presented to the Tonester back in '86 on one of his secret trips.
Signed, Cherie Blair
Dear Cherie,
It sounds to me like you'd all gotten kinda drunk. So, what was the question again?
The Grammer Genious
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