Dear Dreary.
I love horticulture! I spend as much time as i can in my own garden, and i love taking a sneaky peak over the fence! Mr + Mrs Brazen live next door at no. 42. They are naturists.
She struts around starkers caressing her heavily-laden Lupins (Lupi Mammari), and he loves nothing more than letting the summer sunshine light up his red-hot poker (Phallus Circumcisus). This harmless fun doesn't normally bother me - maybe i have just got used to it - but recently things have got a little out of hand. I'm not sure whether I should say something. The other afternoon they had been sunbathing as usual but he then quite openly tried to pollenate her somewhat neglected pink Clematis ('Mysterium Delectium') after hacking his way through her lovely red Burning Bush(plentius pubicus).
They must have seen me watching from the bedroom window,but it didn't stop them, in fact it just seemed to encourage them. He started to rub his plump Hollyhocks (testiculai pimpli), whilst she added a little moisture to her tulips (vulvus flapulus). They then lay down for a few minutes and he appeared to be prodding the grass with his dobber before i noticed his protruberantis wiltis and her weeping love flower.
 As a parting gesture she tasted his sweet pea(aqua vita),and he dried her french orchid (vagium orgasmium) with a dock leaf. During their passionate prodding they accidently disturbed the beehive,and the air was suddenly full of angry bees. They swarmed together to form the words '' DIRTY BASTARDS''. They must have been spelling bees.
Should i move house or ask to join in?
Ms.B.D.Eye, Norfolking Way, The Grumpians.

Dear Ms Eye.
If you want to join in then feel free. The sight of an extra hardy perennial should cultivate much interest at the next cuntry fete!
If, however, it is your desire to stop these up hill gardeners then the first thing to do is cut off their supplies.
Look out for the patch. Not the damp one, the cabbage patch. Steal all the cabbages under cover of darkness and sell them on to crackerjack. You'll soon have a lovely, shiny crackerjack pen to mount over your hearth.
Look for anything else that may sustain their perverted pleasures. Carrots, cucumbers, marrows, turnips. Make sure you empty out his spuds before he does. Very important for you and very impotent for him!
If you follow these simple ruled then they won't be finding any slugs or snail trails in their bed for a very long time!!
Planting his seed should be a thing of the past!
Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
I had to walk home last night in sub-zero temperatures after my car broke down. I walked for several miles and got seriously cold, at one point having to relieve myself as i walked. When i finally got home, i noticed icicles on my testicles! In a moment's blind panic I stupidly pulled them off. My screams were heard halfway down the street and i passed out. When i woke, i was left with two handfulls of melted ice, mixed with patches of hairy, pimply skin, and a feeling that i had been kicked in the scrotum by the entire field of last years Grand National. When i finally summoned up the courage to glance down at my groin, the damage was obvious. It
looked like two neglected onion sacks, each with a bruised, skinned onion popping out, red and wrinkled in the daylight. Fortunately i had a bag of satsumas in the house, so i tied the ends of the bag to my braces and rigged up a kind a hammock device to prevent the little blighters from making an unscheduled appearance. The ups
hot of it all is my doc recommended a plastic surgeon. After much painful prodding and poking (and, i'm sure, a little giggling), he decided i needed two skin grafts. He said in order to maintain as much sensitivity as possible, the skin would be taken from my neck. The operation went well and the bollocks are now pretty much back to normal. The only problem is that they itch like merry hell, and every other day they become stubbly and require shaving. This is very time consuming and much care is required. My missus won't go anywhere near them until i've shaved so i perform this task regularly, but they are red raw. Can you recommend a suitable soothing lotion? The little bastards are driving me mad.
Yours, Ivan Astibollokich.
"Two Acres", Groin Upon Tweed.

Dear Ivan.
I've seen your missus. You should have got a skin graft from her face, she looks like a hairy bollock!
Mind you, have you seen her stubble? You'd have had to have shaven back to your pubic bone twice daily.
She's a proper ugly cow! I always fancied you at school and you only had eyes for Jennifer Rhino Atkinson, bloody trollop!
Never mind a skin graft,
I'd have kissed them better. I still could if you'd let me? It'd be like kissing that bitch I suppose!
Forget it! May I recommend dipping your testicles in a bag of salt.
Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
I would like to pass on a dieting tip to your readers. I know that these suggestions are everywhere at this time of year, but i have been overweight all my life and this method has certainly worked for me. Before Christmas i weighed in at a wopping 25 stone and spent an extended festive period concentrating on what i do best: eating! Biscuits, cakes, mince pies, chocolates, you name it i scoffed it, then washed it all down with gallons of pop and loads of lager.
By New Year i was seriously bloated and could hardly move. Thats when i discovered this great fast way to shed those unwanted pounds. I exploded!! Hey presto! I am suddenly a size 8!
My only piece of advice would be to try to be out of the house when it happens. The repair bill will be huge. Huge globules of flying blubber wrecked my front room, taking out the bay window in an instant. A massive, twisted intestinal mess flew across the room, covering the telly and drowning the dog as he slept in front of the fire.
A stinking, obnoxious tsunami of bile and sewage eventually came to rest halfway up the sideboard, washing away my last seven remaining tins of Roses. A rotten stinking lava flow of half-consumed flotsam swirled round the foot of the stairs rendering the walls as it went, sucking the life out of next door's cat as it sneaked through the catflap to see what was going on, and washed away my pallet of Teatime biccies.Sounds messy eh? Don't worry. The council are coming round to clean up and the BBC's Life Of Grime will be filming it.
Then there's OK magazine, Take A Break, and possibly Brainiac. I'm gonna make a fortune! I can heartily recommend this weightloss programme to your readership. It's made the start of the new year go with a bang!!
Love from Jenny "Five Bellies" Large,
Puddington, West Yorks.

Dear Jenny.
Well done you.
However, i'm not sure the rest of us 'non exploding' types are ready for exploding fatties up and down our high streets. Waiting for a bus is bad enough. But waiting and wondering if Billy Bunter next to you is going to blow before the number 14 arrives is most disconcerting.
Queuing at the supermarket? That's bad enough, I'm sure you'll agree. But what if the till operative explodes all over your chicken fillets? Having Donnas kebabs for tea could mean exactly that!
You lot could do with an alarm fitting to warn the rest of us when you're about to 'lose weight', give us time to take cover.
Ooo, this skirts a bit tight. Must be trapped wind. Hang on!
PARP!!!!
Oh dear. I'll have to go. I need to get a cloth for my assistant and find myself a smaller pair of pants.
Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
My wife has just left hospital after a miner operation. She's not the woman I married all those years ago since the op.
Since moving back home she insists on wearing a helmet, overalls and carrying a spade and a canary into the back garden where she's been digging for the last two weeks apparently looking for a new face to chip away at. Well, she's certainly chipped away at her own. She's like a stand in for the
black and White minstrels show.
She's got me looking on eBay for any old Arthur Scargill posters for her bedroom wall.
I don't know what's worse. I'm in for Major surgery next week and I'm worried I might form a small army, grow a silly moustache, wave a stick around and conquer Clithero.
The NHS needs a good seeing to! Especially the nurses!
Who's in charge?
Frankie Phillips.

Dear Frankie.
I know exactly where you are coming from with the NHS. A friend of mine went in with a clot,but the stupid asian doctor mis-read her notes and removed her clitoris. Keeps it in a jar now on her mantelpiece and strokes it for old time sake every birthday.Then there was my uncle Nobby who had an operation on his in-growing foreskin. Caught the Nova virus in there, and now everytime he sees a Vauxhall he comes out in a rash. Very inconvenient. Apparently its an Astraphysical reaction. Driving him mad it is. You have my sympathy dear.
What can we do about it? Fuck all.
Next!

Dear Dreary.
I let myself go a little at New Year. I ended up in A & E having my stomach pumped. Not something i would recommend. Strange thing was, amongst all the gore and vodka was a used condom. I have no idea how it got there, but it had obviously been rather full at some point. Now i am worried. Is it possible for it to reach my stomach by any
method other than via my mouth?
I'm not too well up on these things and i am concerned that i may have lost my virginity in a drunken festive moment, or it could be something to do with my recent trip to Columbia when i fell asleep in the departure lounge and woke up feeling strangely hyperactive. I also seem to have a strange white powdery substance in my stools. Is this coincidence or woodworm?
Please respond.
Phileas Bogg, Walmington On Sea.

Dear Phileas.
It sounds to me like you've had more than your stomach pumped. It was probably a South American trouser snake that burrowed deep in your anus and simply shed it's skin. With a name like yours, your reputation precedes you and every Tom, Dick and Harry, certainly the middle one, will be after a slice of the pie.
Anyone worth his salt is a potential target for these bum bandits. Which probably explains the White powdery substance in your stools. Do you keep your stools in the kitchen? Have you looked for any salty deposits on your Welsh dresser?
Happy New Year,
Dreary. x

Thanks Drears old thing. I will try to curtail my back door activities wherever possible. By the way, my dresser isn't Welsh,he's French. He travels everywhere with me as he has a passport too. X