Canonical Ripper Letters
- Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they wont fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk
about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shan't quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal.
How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha. ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldn't you. Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife's so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good Luck.
Yours truly
Jack the Ripper
—Letter sent September 27th, 1888 at the Central News Agency
I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, you'll hear about Saucy Jacky's work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldn't finish straight off. Had not time to get ears off for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.
Jack the Ripper
—Letter sent 1 October 1888 at Central News Agency
You thought your-self very clever I reckon when you informed the police. But you made a mistake if you thought I dident see you. Now I known you know me and I see your little game, and I mean to finish you and send your ears to your wife if you show this to the police or help them if you do I will finish you. It no use your trying to get out of my way. Because I have you when you dont expect it and I keep my word as you soon see and rip you up. Yours truly Jack the Ripper.
PS You see I know your address.
—Letter sent 6 October 1888 to an unidentified witness
Mr Lusk
Sor
I send you half the
Kidne I took from one women
prasarved it for you tother piece
may send you the bloody knif that
took it out if you only wate a whil
longer.
signed
Mishter Lusk.
— Letter received by the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee on 16 October 1888
Old boss you was rite it was the left kidny i was goin to hoperate agin close to your ospitle just as i was going to dror mi nife along of er bloomin throte them cusses of coppers spoilt the game but i guess i wil be on the job soon and will send you another bit of innerds
Jack the Ripper
O have you seen the devle
with his mikerscope and scalpul
a-lookin at a kidney
with a slide cocked up.
—Letter sent to Dr. Thomas Openshaw on 29 October 1888
Fiction
"I'm Jack the Ripper. I love women. I'm Jack the Ripper. I caused terror throughout London—"
—Jack the Ripper, Vaguely Recalling JoJo
"One day men will look back and say I gave birth to the 20th century."
—From Hell, the movie.
"The city was drowning in decay. Chaos. Immorality. A message needed to be sent, etched in blood for all the world to see. A warning."
"Koch's Snowflake
begins with an equilateral triangle, which can be contained within a circle, just as the murders are constrained to Whitechapel 2nd Autumn, 1888. Next, half-sized triangles are added to the triangles' three sides. Quarter-sized triangles are added to the new shape's twelve sides, and so on. Eventually, the snowflake's edge becomes so crinkly and complex that its length, theoretically, is Infinite. Its AREA, however, never exceeds the initial circle. Likewise, each new book provides fresh details, finer crennelations of the subject's edge. Its area however can't extend past the initial circle: Autumn 1888, Whitechapel. What have we to look forward to? Abberline's school nickname or the make of Mary Kelly's shoes? Koch's snowflake: gaze upon it, Ripperologists, and shiver. The complex phantom we project. That alone, we know is real. The actual killer's gone, unglimpsed, might as well not have been there at all."
begins with an equilateral triangle, which can be contained within a circle, just as the murders are constrained to Whitechapel 2nd Autumn, 1888. Next, half-sized triangles are added to the triangles' three sides. Quarter-sized triangles are added to the new shape's twelve sides, and so on. Eventually, the snowflake's edge becomes so crinkly and complex that its length, theoretically, is Infinite. Its AREA, however, never exceeds the initial circle. Likewise, each new book provides fresh details, finer crennelations of the subject's edge. Its area however can't extend past the initial circle: Autumn 1888, Whitechapel. What have we to look forward to? Abberline's school nickname or the make of Mary Kelly's shoes? Koch's snowflake: gaze upon it, Ripperologists, and shiver. The complex phantom we project. That alone, we know is real. The actual killer's gone, unglimpsed, might as well not have been there at all."— Alan Moore, From Hell: Appendix: The Dance of the Gull-Catchers.
"The case could be moralised about from every angle except actual, practical sympathy with oppressed women. The case was a litmus test on the moral state of society (the killer brings the rebuke that 'we' all need, in his mad way). The case was about swarthy Jews and their sacrificial religion, or about all the foreigners (no wonder the Mail loves this latest story - the guy supposedly identified as the killer was a Polish immigrant). The case was about the degradation of the criminal classes. The case was a big joke, jolly London lore. Hence the newspapers' invention of the name 'Jack the Ripper' when they hit upon the lucrative idea of sending themselves letters written in red ink, purporting to be from the murderer, invoking 'Springheel Jack' in their fabricated signatures, and sniggering about the whole thing in words that were painstakingly badly spelled (because, of course, 'Jack' couldn't be an educated man)."
—Jack Graham, "No Name"
, "No Name""Oi mate, pass the liquor, it's Jack the Ripper
Jack the Rapper, following you way before the dawn of Twitter
I'm a human trigger warning, through the night until the morning
When the light shines upon my crimes, you'll find it sick, appalling
An infamous, notorious delinquent
There's little more gory a thing than living in Victorian England
This is horrorcore; beware if you're a common whore
Or late at night, you might find me knocking on your door
Not keen to leave until I'm knee-deep in blood and gore
Leave your grieving family on their knees, weeping, scrubbing floors
The police need a lead; they dunno what they're looking for
My raps are like the way I eat my meat: bloody raw!"
Jack the Rapper, following you way before the dawn of Twitter
I'm a human trigger warning, through the night until the morning
When the light shines upon my crimes, you'll find it sick, appalling
An infamous, notorious delinquent
There's little more gory a thing than living in Victorian England
This is horrorcore; beware if you're a common whore
Or late at night, you might find me knocking on your door
Not keen to leave until I'm knee-deep in blood and gore
Leave your grieving family on their knees, weeping, scrubbing floors
The police need a lead; they dunno what they're looking for
My raps are like the way I eat my meat: bloody raw!"
—Jack the Ripper, Epic Rap Battles of History
"You'll soon shake with fear
Never knowing if I'm near
I'm sly and I'm shameless
Nocturnal and nameless
Except for "The Ripper"
Or if you like "Jack The Knife"!
Never knowing if I'm near
I'm sly and I'm shameless
Nocturnal and nameless
Except for "The Ripper"
Or if you like "Jack The Knife"!
—Judas Priest, The Ripper.
"That nickname you love so much, want to know how I got it? Actually why don't I give you a demonstration? I think it's time for Jack to let er rip!"
— Raiden, Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance
"On Friday, August 31, 1888, this beast suddenly appeared out of the thick fog. Instantly, the metropolis of three million souls, London, was thrust into the depths of fear! The evilest of evil! His heart filled with coal-black darkness, this man was the most celebrated murderer in mankind's history. Jack the Ripper!"
— Heimdall, Record of Ragnarok
'"Dear Diary, Apparently the way to get a bunch of time travelers to annoy you is to murder a bunch of prostitutes."
— Linkara, imagining Jack the Ripper's diary in Atop the Fourth Wall
