Dear Allan,

I’m writing to congratulate you on the recent finish to season four of your hit TV series Republic of Doyle. What a treat it has been to tune in the last four years. We sure do love all the mysteries. Mysteries like when you will next be taking your shirt off, or mysteries like just how much camera time will be spent lingering on your sweet face, or perhaps the greatest mystery of all is when we will next be staring at your backside clad only in underwear as you run away from yet another wacky Doyle predicament.

We understand that you studied at the prestigious National Theatre School in Montreal, no doubt brushing up on a few phrases in the language of love, and would gladly accompany you on a stroll down rue Sainte-Catherine. Or do you prefer going around the bay to nan’s place for some jigg’s dinner? We could do that too.

Perhaps we could roll out the gym mats and you could show us a few moves in Taekwon Do? You are a red-belt, after all. Granted, no belt would be preferred. Or pants, for that matter.

More than anything though Allan (can we call you just Allan? Al? AlHawk?) we are dying to know when we can expect to see you grace our TV screens once again. In the meantime, here are some story ideas you are free to use for any upcoming episodes.

Jake goes undercover to crack an illegal gambling ring at a speedo fashion show.

Jake goes undercover to crack an illegal smuggling ring at shirtless baby oil factory.

Jake goes undercover to crack an illegal dog racing ring and carries around various puppies for 45 minutes.

Jake goes undercover to crack an illegal something-or-other ring and winds up in his underwear.

Sincerely,

The Staff of Women’s Post.

UPDATE: He thinks we’re cheeky. We can all die happy now.