Dear [one of my referees],
There was a time when I thought you were a nice guy. But it appears I was wrong. You are evil and as a consequence a once nice young lady is off to join an ugly faceless corporate where she will spend hours spellbound by the pointy tail of an apostrophe. Thanks a lot pal. You remember the scene in Sons of Anarchy when the traitor gets offered the choice between knife or blow torch? That’s too good for you, you get a rusty razor blade duct-taped to Fatima’s stump. I hope a swarm of Box Jellyfish do a death dance on your Speedos as the salt water crocs circle and high five their tiny little weird croc hands.
Disappointed of Newtown