 |
 |
|
|
This week - New Year Resolutions I am thirty eight. In 2008 I promise not to use a pacifier to go to sleep anymore. At the moment I won’t go to bed without my dummy. Beat that! Shirley Knott Dr Farquar says: Yes, I know your husband and how much you like to suck on something at night, even if it has a piece of stray lint and accompanying aftertaste. I have only one memory of your husband. His name “Corkie” Bender. We both went to the Upper Drainpipe Grunty Fen school for Boys and Travellers. On sports day he forgot his baton in the 1000 yrds relay and dragged me half a circuit before I got disqualified for smarting too early. I want to gamble less and stop smoking, but most of all I want to stop shouting “Come out you little Motherfucker” when going about my midwifery duties. Justina Moody Dr F: Be professional at all times. Don’t get emotionally involved with others' childbirth. Keep it at arms length and don’t get any ectoplasm on your pop-away uniform. I want to become an Islamic fundamentalist. But I like to get drunk, commit adultery and I’m a bit of a kleptomaniac and worried I will end up having to play my banjo one-handed. Haydn Nuff Dr F: Looking at your address at 13 Shag a Thatched Cottage, I don’t think the local Muslim community will worry about such behaviour. After all, most of the radicals live at airports and the local Cash and Carry nowadays or otherwise we will have to free radicals and that has more to do with cholesterol. Remember our own Reverend Stew Scrotum at the service on Sunday last admonishment from Psalms Chapter 37 Verse 11? “The meek shall inherit the earth” and that’s just putting it mildly. However, it is with a full heart and empty wallet I embrace your New Year switch of doctrinal convictions. I assume that last year your calling as a Sinn Fein Cannibal Dwarf Thrower just didn’t suit you, then? Lets face it, you're a bugger when you get on the ‘shorts’. I want to stop projectile vomiting next year. It’s playing havoc with my chintz curtains and my friends won’t visit me without the constant use of a sturdy umbrella. Can you suggest anything? Ralph Groooooaarggh Dr F: Thanks for bringing that up. Look on the bright side - your diarrhoea has cleared up thanks to the nifty insertion of some stolen knotted rope from Felixstowe docks. If you must throw up constantly, get some rifle sights for your glasses to effect supreme accuracy leaving your colour coordinates vomit-free. I don’t agree. I colour coordinated my entire lounge, including wallpaper, curtains, carpet and paintwork with the same, now quite dated and passé, Laura Ashley mini-florals. The trouble started when my wife came into the sitting room wearing the same patterned dress and looking like a well-kept grave. She sat down and it was as if she had a cloaking device from the Starship Enterprise under threat from aliens in even sillier attire. She became entirely invisible and even the condensed milk for our equally coordinated tray and tea-cups had seemed to disappear! The milk was quite literally.. evaporated. I spent the next hour shagging the standard lampshade, making my wife jealous. She left me there and then, but only after struggling to find the door. I have to admit though, between you and I, it was the best sex I have ever had. Do I win a prize? Buster Banjostring Dr F: Well done. My advice to you is to plug it in next time and try it with the light on. I do, and, to be fair, from behind I’ve never looked back. I’m a Russian terrorist suicide bomber. In the New Year I will promise not to bomb trains and buses or other innocent modes of transport or hide radioactive materials in sushi restaurants. It's a shame really. I just enjoy seeing folks little eyes light up. Boris Stiff Dr F: If you weaken and one finds oneself getting into the same old bad habits again, that is, making atrocities happen for a very brief living, don’t get stressed about it. After all you don’t want to spread yourself too thinly. I am a bored lady pensioner and I don’t know how I get up those stairs with my feet. Like Beryl Bastingbrush at number 63, I hate terrorism. If God in his mercy grants me another year with my hips and another home-help that doesn’t steal from my purse, next year I promise to follow the above person wherever he goes, wired for sound in a surreptitious manner to foil his maniacal follies. First, I will dress up like a tired and dried up old hooker outside Charing Cross station using duck-tape and clothes-pegs and painting out my liver spots with Tippex to make me look younger. Pumped with adrenalin and a large dose of sherry trifle I will approach the terrorist or somebody who looks just like him and say: “Hello Love. I’m Mary. “Everydays ‘an ‘oliday with Mary” … Gor luvverduck squire! How would you like to see the frills on me smalls for a tanner? Not bad for a pair of thruppeeny bits, Dearie…if I’m not mistaken? Luvverly tell yer Mum. Gorn me ‘ole china, be me darling for ‘alf an ‘our and I’ll take you out on the Thames for a tug as long as you wear a stiffy stockin’, sweet’eart because …”I’m getting married in the mornin’ ding dong the bells are gonna chime….pull out the stopper ..lets have a whopper …dum-de-dum oooerr….what have we got ‘ere then? Wottashame luvvie! You're hung like a Chinese mouse so you are …not much of a trouser trumpet you have there… How’s your father. Luvverly bloke.. your ‘ole man so he was… Gor luvvim’. He used to like to flip me over and play the B-side.. so he did!…?” Once enticed by my arthritic man-handling he will not notice I have swapped our cellphones. After what can only be deemed as a clumsy grope with walking aids I will have full possession of the detonator. Before you can say “muffdivers dental floss” I will then scream ‘rape’ and as he flees he will be hunted down from platform to platform by cops with real guns, and not the potato firing ones they practice with at home, but real ‘shooters,’ where he will be ‘shot on sight’ after officers ‘wing’ all the passengers first and he will be eventually taken to the local Police station unharmed because of poor aim. Then…….. Before he has a chance to take his rucksack off or anyone can say “3-minute hand massage to relieve stiffness” I will give him a phone call when he least expects it, and it won’t be the one he wants to make to his solicitor. Score? Police: One Achmed Phlegm: 43 (including the vice squad and several pokerfaced canteen assistants) Hey Ho! Job done. No more Police to go around shooting innocent backpackers in tube stations who they believe to be terror suspects and I get a free fondle with a swarthy gentleman into the bargain. Mind you I would never swap Semtex for Ralgex. (Oof..wheres my Parker Knoll? I’m getting it all down one side!) Dr F: Congratulations! My most lengthy reply to date. Lets hope you live long enough to read this bastard. I hope you are not going to all this trouble because of racism? I for one think if we could as a nation not give a shit about National Security and just embrace each others' cultures and accept weird and dangerous beliefs for all, it would be for the greater good. Filthy practices involving intentions to harm others should be kept in the House of Commons where it has been for centuries. Below is what the New Year will bring and what the government will do in their efforts to stamp out terrorism. Tony Blair is our peace envoy to the Middle East which proves that Gary Glitter will now leave Vietnam and open his own nursery in his hometown here called “KidsRalwaysaround”. Lester Piggott will take over Alistair Darling's job now that Kylie has got Lester’s OBE. Kylie will sing “I should be so lucky” to the Queen at Balmoral wearing nothing but shiny hotpants. Al Fayed will lose his case of finding out who killed his son and it will cost him dearly forcing him to go to ASDA for his shopping in future. Diana Ross will work until her retirement cleaning toilets at Heathrow airport.
see also Dr Farquar-Smith on: |
