Dear Guinness Book of Records

Something silly I once wrote.

Dear Guinness Book of Records,

I am writing this letter to vehemently complain about troubles caused by your publication. Two weeks ago, a Mr. James Smith arrived at the copse of trees growing just beyond the bottom of my back garden with a sack on his back. Resting during gardening at the time, I lazily watched this fellow then climb up a thick silver birch. Indeed, at this point I even smiled when I saw the man take out a blanket and some food, because I thought he might be a birdwatcher. But he disclosed no binoculars or notepad, just a mobile phone, which he proceeded to use to call a number of people.

By the time these people came, I had finished the gardening and was giving my son his insulin. We both stared fixedly out the window as reporters from a local newspaper and others of unknown status congregated around the bottom of the tree. My son remarked that perhaps this was a protest �" was the council planning to build on the land occupied by the copse of trees? It was only when one of your personnel arrived as an invigilator that we learned the truth. Mr. James Smith of no official fixed abode, as the papers dubbed him, was beginning his quest to beat the world record for "tree sitting."

This news did not in any way upset me at the time; indeed, it was rather pleasant to have the change in our neighbourhood �" the reporters, the coverage, the attention, it all made otherwise routine days notable, something to talk about over dinner. But that was two weeks ago. Back then I didn't know what I know now. Specific research has informed me that the current record for tree sitting is held by a Mr. Roy from California, and stands at 431 days.

Do I even need to state the shock this put me in? 431 days. I had figured a guess at about a month. Not 431 days! In just two weeks of residence in that tree, Mr. Smith has already caused considerable trouble to my family. If it is not the late-night viewers, often drunk, who come to noisily climb up beside him, then it is the opponents who come with their own sleeping bags to beat him, invariably giving up after just a few hours. And if it is not other people, then it is this abominable fellow himself and the havoc he is creating. Food wrappers dropped onto my lawn, broken branches littered all about, dirty clothing discarded for his friends to come and pick up one or two days later when they bring fresh gear. His mess has brought stray dogs into the area �" beasts that could be carrying rabies for all I know! It is just too much for me, and this is after only two weeks!

Already certain unavoidable questions have come to me. Where does this man relieve himself? If it is in a bottle, where does he pour it? Does he squat over a bag when he feels the need to defecate? The tree he hopes to call home for the next year extends its branches over the bottom of my garden, which is already littered with debris from this madman's escapade. Is it his biodegradable waste that has caused the new growth of weeds by the fence? I dare say that while public shows of sanitary issues might be commonplace in tribes lost in the jungles of Africa, they do not fit comfortably into the culture of a civilised suburban English town!

The movements of Mr. Smith are not your responsibility; his civil rights are not yours to edit. I understand this. But you play a medium between this man and his current actions because of your Guinness Book of Records and the fact that you sanction �" or at least witness �" episodes like this current insanity. It is for this reason that I hold you personally responsible for my troubles; therefore, I expect any remedy to come from your end. If you were to refuse to condone the continuance of Mr. Smith's record attempt, that should put an end to it. This is the course of action I hope you will take. Because I am not taking this any longer. If the record attempt continues beyond another seventy-two hours, I will have no choice but to approach the council about the matter, and possibly even a solicitor with reference to your company. I see no other option.

If I am forced to deal with the matter through a solicitor, it will of course take time �" time that I am not willing to sit idly through. In my family I have three big brothers who will gladly forcibly remove the insane Mr. Smith from the tree. Failing that, the tree will be cut down. I hope my hand is not forced into such action.

I hope this letter opens your eyes to the problem and solves it. Any threatening content is accidental. Thank you for your time.

Yours sincerely,

Jbicko

Reviews

[Imara]

Oh my is this true or just something funny you thought up? Either way there was a huge smile on my face the entire time. The drunken parties, his um bathroom, oh. It did seem interesting at first but you did bring up many good points. Haha well written and hilarious! Usually we applaud those who try to break records, even the odd ones, but this well maybe he should have found another tree? Haha good job!