Dear Mr Thomas,

I am writing to ask you to endorse the milk from my dairy I run a small farm, as I am a small farmer, I have to stand on a milking stool to tend to the udders Of Blodwen. She herself is a welsh black, ,hewn from the mountain behind the farm. She is skittish mind, and would kick your arse as soon as look at you. Occasionally when the moon can be bothered to shine, she will do a little dance up on the twmp, outside the vicar’s magnifying window, the one he usually uses to look at the girls on their way to the Swansea train. The milk, I would like you to promote is not for the faint hearted, as Blodwen has a dark soul given to her by merlin when one of his spells for once went right for a change I read your poetry to Blodwen every night and her yield has increased. I love your poetry by the way, but mam thought ‘Before We Mother Naked Fall’ absolutely, disgusting!

Yours in anticipation

Ianto Griffin

My favourite poem is Do not go Gentle into That Good Night