Dear Dreary.
I am a very worried and confused 30 year old male. Two years ago I was diagnosed with a rare neurological illness called Anal Anaglyptic Shock. My sphincter muscle goes out of control each time i hear decorating mentioned. It can easily lead to very messy incidents. I was once driving past an advertising hoarding that displayed a massive photo of Laurence Llewellyn-Thingy. I violently messed myself and collided with a number 2 bus coming the other way. The smell lingered for weeks. I eventually discovered hardened remains in the grooves of the driver's floor mat. Watching ITV is out of the question with all those adverts for B&Q and Homebase, and any time i smell paint i get that old familiar warm trickle down the leg. I was once bent over in my doctor's surgery, having my annual pile inspection, when he happened to mention the words plumb and line in the same sentence. He copped the full projectile evacuation right in the face bless him. Springtime is particularly difficult.
I usually take a few weeks off work as everyone discusses changes to the house or decking or new colour schemes. Somebody was once talking at lunchtime about doing a car boot and mentioned pasting tables. I have been banned from the canteen ever since. I think the problem goes back to the time i watched the wife paint the kitchen ceiling. As she stretched to reach a corner, the ladders gave way, and she belly-flopped onto the paint tray. I was covered, and subsequently found out that i was allergic to the colour Creeping Beige. It's so serious that whenever the missus wants to decorate I have to go on holiday somewhere. Please help. I've tried nappies but nothing on the market is big enough to contain the problem. Why is it that fear smells so bad?
Dai 0'Rea, Rimington-On-The-Bog, Norfolk.
　
Dear Dai.
My ex husband had similar reactions to many things during our two month relationship.
The thought of having sex with me often caused him to soil the sheets so he had to sleep in the spare room with our Swedish au pair girl.
Shopping, washing up, ironing all resulted in Rupert touching cloth.
Poor thing, I blame myself. By the end of our relationship the very sight of me made him pebble dash his shorts.
Steer clear of that paint brush and why not treat yourself to bleaching your bum hole.
Dreary. X