An Open Letter To Penelope Leach

As I write this, I’m actually supposed to be photocopying some legal documents to finalise my divorce. We’ve been separated for well over a year now, and well, let’s just say it’s on my todo list. No really, take a look:


I know it must be kind of difficult to compare the above tasks, what with my generation being so completely lazy and unmotivated, that we see the job of doing one’s own washing as a monumental task almost as challenging as climbing a mountain larger than your ego. But rest assured that I see the task of getting divorced as a trivial item on my todo list. If I’m lucky I can divorce several times in the future because the thrill of being judged by members of our society, not to mention our glorious government, is the best fun I believe I’ve ever had.

I read an article about your recent claims that a child sleeping over with his father might damage his brain. I would liketo fully endorse this suggestion of yours. It’s great to see someone FINALLY validating the opinions of crazy right wing men’s rights activists, and through carefully planned ineptitude, furthering opinions about feminism back towards the 1950s ideal where they belong.

I felt that as a separated father with a son of only twenty one months old I was in a unique position to help you with evidence for your “scientific” “research” *wink wink*. I am even happy to share some of this “evidence” for free, although I am quite open to whoring myself out at the expense of real science for a quick buck, something I’m sure you and I both love doing.

Being the unworthy male that I am, when my wife and I separated, I could only think of putting my own needs first, such as my desperately selfish need to know that my son felt loved and cherished by his father. I would like to share with you some of the horrible things that this led to.


Here you can see one night when he stayed over at my house, or as I prefer to call it, the “Den Of Inquity”. I keep him in a cage (some call it a portable cot but we both know that things such as meanings of words and truthfulness are completely open to interpretation). Note the hand against his forehead. That’s because he was trying desperately to beat himself unconscious. It’s true that it looks like he’s having the time of his life but this photo was taken after he’d gone completely mad and was laughing like a maniac.

I doubt I will ever forget this day. It haunts me in my dreams. I had thought (obviously incorrectly as all the women in my life have since informed me) that children can be left in the open without supervision for several hours. My son had gone missing and I was in a complete panic. Lucky for me he was wearing his red and white striped jumper, which meant I could put my years of practice reading Where’s Wally books to good use (finally). You may (understandably) be confused into thinking he was happy to see me, but what you can’t see is behind me is the social service lady that he had in fact called using a phone he constructed from a shoe and a leaf. Who knew that we were confused about that little fact: when we see a child pretending a shoe or a banana is a phone, in fact they are actually doing Macguyver like research.


Sometimes it doesn’t even take a whole evening for my son to go mad. As you can see here, just a few short minutes having a barbecue (eating what my coven likes to call blood cakes), and he’s quite clearly gone completely insane, as evidenced by the vacant stare and intense frown. You and I see him eating a piece of bread, but to him it’s the rotting corpse of a long dead god from either Babylonian or Egyptian mythology. I wasn’t quite sure which as it was difficult to tell his words amongst all the inane babbling that he speaks every time he is in my presence.Image

One day he went so completely bonkers that he even started to believe in…I even shudder to say the words…environmental responsibility. I sincerely hope future generations can forgive me.


Here is a photo containing my wallet and what my son refers to as a phone but we all know is a switch box to the violence indoctrination device. On this day, as you can clearly see, my son was suffering from the insane delusion that he was in fact my ex wife.


He even got so stressed one day that he wanted to take his own life. It took me several hours and an entire packet of corn cakes to bring him down safely.


You can see him here playing a guitar with a toy car. I seemed to have understood from the mad ravings that he was trying to explore what sound a plastic automobile would make when put together with nylon strings. This is obviously completely loony as we all know that only devil children play music. Next to him you can see my step son. He’s a teenager, but even that didn’t save him, as he visited my house once and he hasn’t worn a shirt since.


Talking of music, ever since he started visiting, he can’t see a tin of hot chocolate without busting into a rendition of The Lion Sleeps Tonight. It must haunt him because I often here him chanting the words, “Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooo”. I’ve considered going to a pastor for an exorcism but I’m intently afraid my demonic form would burst into flames the moment I stepped through the doors.


It’s quite infectious. Here you can see the both of us, slipping slowly, slowly, slowly into madness.


I’ve become quite scared for my own safety. Ever since he built his own autogun mounted flying robot he’s developed a quite sincere case of megalomania. He’s murdered thirty seven conservatives, and even a few innocent people to boot. To be honest it’s getting quite out of hand. If I had only read your works earlier it would never have had to come to this.


He’s even managed to indoctrinate his older brother to become his slave/personal automotive mechanic. He’s looking for new recruits as we speak and I’m quite afraid as I write this, less he finds out I am working against him (trying to break him out of his madness) and puts my name on what he refers to as “the list”.

I have one small request if I may. I was hoping you might be able to point me to a reputable child psychologist. As far as I could tell from reading about you, I had the feeling you’ve never met one, but I’m desperate and I thought “what the hey?”

I could literally go on for hours with these photos, for instance I have hundreds of photos of him partaking in such sordid activities as visiting art galleries, attending “cultural awareness” (shudder) festivals, and even more. But I’m afraid I hear the whirring of robotic motors in the hall as I type. So I will just finish with one last warning.

I know that many people in the wider community think that a son spending time with a loving and caring father is a harmless, nee positive, experience. A lot of these so called commie pinko socialists would even have us believe that “non traditional” (devil) families give us even more chances to love our young ones and turn them into confident adults (which apparently they see as, obviously deluded themselves, the role of parents, as opposed to what was really intended, hitting them with sticks until they become subserviant enough to become slaves to a corporate empire). But I hope with yours and mine helpful guidance we can break this blight upon our world. I will finish with one last photo that I think displays the horror of this problem in a way that my words never could.

A baby driving a car.


Behold, the TRUE face of evil.


6 thoughts on “An Open Letter To Penelope Leach

  1. Thank you so much for directing me to your piece on this.I love it!!!…I’m relieved to not be the only one damaging my child in such a monumental way by letting her go to daddys.(ssshhh don’t tell Mrs Leach but she’s there right now and I’m gonna have a glass of wine to celebrate!!)Maybe our children will meet in rehab one day so emotionally damaged by having fun at daddys house ,during group therapy they can discuss how traumatic it was for them to have two loving parents…I suspect they’ll be fine though!!!

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