Reggie Online

"Take a letter, Joan..."

In Series One, Reginald Perrin would dictate letters to his secretary Joan Greengross, the contents
of which would become more and more eccentric - and downright rude - as the episodes progressed.


 
                                               Geoff Maynard,
                                                   Randall's Farm,
                                                       Nether Somerby, 

Dear Sir,
              Thank you for your letter of the 7th inst. I am sorry that you are finding it inconvenient to change over to the Metzinger scale. Let me assure you that many of our suppliers are already finding the new scale is the most realistic method of grading plums and greengages. With the coming of metrication, [the phone starts to ring] I feel confident that [the phone is still ringing] the bloody phone will ring all day...


                                                   L.D. Mayhew,
                                                     Mile End Farm,
                                                        Bumstead St. Peter, 

Dear Sir,
              Thank you for your letter of the 8th. I'm sorry but we won't be able to renew the contract for your rhubarb due to the new Common Market agreement we have undertaken to buy the new Euro-rhubarb from France, in exchange for Euro-plums which are re-exported to Italy in exchange for Dutch greengages from Austria. In the circumstances, I...  [he feels ill and leaves for a check-up with Doc Morrissey].


                                        The Traffic Manager,
                                            British Rail (Southern Region), 

Dear Sir,
              Every morning my train is eleven minutes late. This is infuriating. This morning I took a later train. This also was eleven minutes late. This also was infuriating. Why don't you re-time all your trains to arrive eleven minutes late? - then they will all be on time. 

                Yours Faithfully,
                       Reginald I. Perrin (Watch video)


                                      The Manager,
                                         Get-It-Quick Supermarket,
                                                 Get-It-Quick House,
                                                          77 Car Park Rd.,
                                                              Birmingham. 

Dear Sir,
              Thank you for your comments of the 27th ult. Your complaints about late delay are not only completely unjustified, but also ungrammatical. The fault lies in your inability to fill in an order form correctly. You are, in effect, a pompous illiterate baboon. 

                Yours Faithfully,
                     Reginald I. Perrin


 
                                    The Traffic Manager,
                                        British Rail (Southern Region), 

Dear Sir,
             Despite my letter of Friday last, I see you have still taken no action in the matter of the late-arrival of trains at Waterloo. This morning my train arrived, as always, eleven minutes late. It is rapidly becoming apparent to me that you are not only not competent enough to hold your job, but you could not even run a game of strip-poker in a Turkish brothel. It should be obvious, even to a retarded Belgian hamster, that all of your trains should be re-timed to take eleven minutes longer. 

               Yours Faithfully,
                      Reginald I. Perrin 

PS: During the pollen season, Peter Cartwright's sneezing is rather offensive to those of us who, like myself, are allergic to sneezing. Today he blew his nose on the Greater Manchester Development Plan supplement, which is of sound enough environmental comment, but not a pretty sight. Why don't you divide your carriages into 'sneezers' and 'non-sneezers'?


 
 

In Series Two, Reggie has returned to Elizabeth after faking his suicide, and has started the rubbish chain Grot. By
episode seven, however, Reggie has realised that, once again, his success has pigeon-holed him into the same dull drudgery
and daily routine from which he tried so hard to escape at Sunshine Desserts. He is now becoming deliberately eccentric
again, in an attempt to destroy Grot. The two letters which he dictates to Joan reflect this:


                                                   The Manager,
                                                    Grot shop,
                                                      Radford, 

Dear Sir,
            I am sorry to hear you have not yet received your supply of edible furniture. This can only be due to the non-arrival of supplies. I am, however, deeply disturbed to hear that you have not yet received our new range of dentures for pets, which are proving so popular with bloody silly idiots who put little doggie dentures in glasses of water beside their kennels, and little budgie dentures in even smaller glasses of water beside their cages....


                                      The Manager,
                                        Grot shop,
                                           Ebbw Vale (near Hamburg),
                                                  Welsh Wales, 

Dear Sir,
               It has come to my notice that you have been serving Welsh people in your shop.  I wouldn't have thought I'd have to tell you about this.  I want no more Welsh people served from now on. 

                 Yours etc., 
                                     yachy da.

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 Text (c) Paul Fisher 2004. Pictures (c) BBC
Original text (c) David Nobbs