There comes a time in every journey when the dead nag can be flogged no further, and all that is left to do is to render the resulting carcass into petfood, or perhaps a useful pot of adhesive. It is with profound regret that I must inform you that your own equestrian fortunes have reached that point.

Your musical career has now reached it’s zenith, as has your notoriety. The widespread belief that you invited the head of the Roman Catholic Church to perform an act of obeisance upon you has sent your single soaring back to the top of the charts – a position from which it had sadly slipped of late. It was this decline, which neither the shockvalue of your ghastly visage nor my own campaigne of abuse against your critics could reverse, that alerted me to the fact that the game would soon be up.

While the fruits of your appearance (and my labors) will continue to fill the coffers of Georgia Records, it is my considered opinion that my remaining to enjoy them – or with the company – or indeed within the borders of the United States – would be an endeavor fraught with difficulties. A glance at the hordes gathered at the gates of Arseland will no doubt prove my point. We have, as they say, pushed our luck – your luck to be precise – about as far as it can go.

I have therefore resolved to channel all of Georgia’s current funds and future earnings into a bank account I had to foresight to establish in the Cayman Islands; to establish myself anew in an equally discrete island state; and to return to you – at, it seems to me, this supremely appropriate moment – the great and solemn responsibility for your own destiny.

It only remains for me to bid you a fond farewell and to thank you from the bottom of my heart, simply for being the good, honest, decent fellows that you are. I shall leave you with some words of wisdom that my dear old Pappy left for me: “Fuck’ em for all they’re and run like hell, Gene”

Yours faithfully
Gene Sergeant
Lt. Gold, Georgia National Guard (Ref.)