Dear Dreary.
As the first wary shoots of springtime finally begin to emerge from winter's icy grip, it is only natural that a young man's fancy starts to turn to thoughts of straightening rhubarb, hardening red hot pokers, and random propogation. I was brought up a God fearing Catholic boy, raised on tales of self denial and biblical fables of low quality seed falling on barren ground, so as I recently passed my eighteenth birthday I found the shackles suddenly springing off and an overwhelming urge to demonstrate to God my newly discovered and wondrous ability to cast my seed all over his amazing, sprouting planet. I do wonder though if I may have been overdoing it. To
receive a life ban from Primark was unfortunate, as I spend many a happy hour rummaging through Budget Lingerie, but they rated my latest squirt as a health and safety risk when they discovered an accumulation dripping from a light fitting. And perhaps my sperm of the moment idea of how to lose a last gasp drop more weight before my weekly weigh in at Fatbastards Club was, with hindsight, somewhat ill-advised whilst sat amongst so much middle aged female cellulite.
I just feel the need sometimes. It has to be done and I have to cast my fruitfull and biblical seed to the wind. This was, i admit, something of a mistake at Beachy Head however, when it came right back and slapped me in the face.
But generally i spread far and wide and often.
My recent favourites include on the top deck of the number 14, in the sugar bowl at St. Wilfreds Mothers Union Easter Coffee Morning and Bring and Buy, amongst the white mice in the pic n mix at my local Odeon, in Greggs one busy lunchtime, adding a little flavour to a vanilla slice, and, only yesterday, in the back of my gran's car at the temporary lights on Inkerman Street.
She thought it had started to rain, bless her. Is this too much for my well-being, do you think? I confessed to Father Justin and he suggested he took a more hands-on role with what he calls my obsession.
Do you think this would help?
Thanks for your time. Just off to Tesco Express to sprinkle the doughnuts.
Regards, Dick Strayne,
Handsworth.

Dear Dick.
You are a busy bee. However, you appear to lack direction, muck spreading all willy nilly.
As they say, 'there's money in muck' and if you keep a tight grip on things you stand in good stead to make a tidy sum.
The sperm bank would be the obvious choice, watching your coffers swell right before your eyes!
You could set up a little business filling those snow shaker things. Should manage to knock a few of them out in a day.
Save many a brides father on her wedding day from spending money on confetti by hiding up a tree and showering the congregation with your own. Gives a whole new meaning to peeling the bells!
You don't perchance know our Cyril do you, only he's got a terrible case of dandruff!
Dreary. x