Dear Dreary.
I'm 57 yrs old and consider myself a bit of an expert when it comes to the old rock and roll and have been to quite a number of concerts in my time. Suffice to say I've collected some very rare memorabilia and wonder if your readers are up for bidding for a slice of rock n roll history.
I've got a bus ticket that I got when I got the bus to see The Bay City Rollers in 1973. Les McEwan caught a bus once, so I'd say that's a pretty rare ticket.
I've also got a rare 1967 Fleetwood Chronicle which was published when The Beatles were still going.
Lot three is a drum stick which the drummer of the support band threw into the audience at The Jaggy Jiggy the week before U2 played there.
My most treasured piece of pop treasure is a photo of the transit van Slade used on their first tour of the midlands in an early edition of auto trader. My uncle actually bought it for scrap and the steering wheel ended up on our kids go cart.
Serious offers only. No time wasters.
Yours,
Sturgeon Pencil-Tree.


Ah Sturgeon,
you've finally resurfaced. My initial reaction to this blatant and pathetic attempt at self-publicity was to dismiss it out of hand. How dare you abuse the nation's favourite column with your petty, squalid collection of dross. Did you contact Dalton's Weekly when you required advice on your 'habits' all those years ago? No,of course you did'nt. You came to me,in a desperate effort to distance yourself from the snivelling group of privileged MP's who were to become known as the Tory Whip Boys. Thatcher's bumspiders, more like.
So it is my pleasure to alert the public,to let the nation know that this dangerous, shameless grovelling, upper class dog scrote is back in society. The public servant who based his election campaign in a teenage brothel next door to the home of an infamous Marseille paedo. The sponging, alcoholic, perverted smack-head who abused his position once too often.
My only advice to you,dog, would be to lay low. One thing i never got to the bottom of perv.
Did Maggie squeal as the cattle prod parted her lips?
Pentonville's gain is our loss,readers.
Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
I'm under attack by terrorists cleverly disguised as clowns.
I've been looking forward to the circus for weeks now ever since mummy and daddy bought some tickets for me and my little brother.
What started as an innocent family show soon stared down the barrel of Armageddon and right up the arse of Satan himself.
An elderly lady in front of us was offered a flower to smell on the lapel of clown#1. As she did her face was covered in what must have been battery acid or sumfick.
Next, the people directly in front were peppered with custard pie bombs. There were paper plates everywhere.
They're sadistic bastards, smiling inanely as they kill.
I fear that if any one of them presses a red nose we're all dead!
PS if any of them bastards tries to board a plane, check their shoes first!
Can I get a refund?
Charlie Carrolie,
Bpool.


Hello Chazie,
i was hoping you'd get in touch. The Norman Barrett clinic had already warned me that you had absconded again. They heard your car collapse and the horn sound as you made your getaway. You've obviously not been taking your meds so that nice Dr.Mooky has asked me to remind you not to go anywhere near little boys + girls,or to invite them to play in your ring. Try to find a friendly Mr.Plod, tell him you are lost, and that he needs to telephone the
number written on your braces. When you get home they've promised that you can suck on Mr.Jolly's little stick of Blackpool rock ,and take a hot bath with your team of performing budgies. You're not to let them go where you did last time though. As a special treat Nellie will do her favourite trick and undress you with her trunk and then soap you all over before spraying you down. Get home and get well soon.
Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
You slag!
I never want to see you ever again you slapper, you two timing, lettuce licking, carpet munching trollop!
I know about you and 'Linda bloody Chutney-Fawcett' or whatever her bloody name is. Staying late at the office updating your pie chart? The only pie you've been up dating is hers.
What about that picture of you staggering out of 'her' flat at all hours of the morning. 'Went to borrow a cup of sugar' my hat!!
I'm quite sure it had something to do with a cup but that's by the by. Plus that skimpy mini dress you had on was so short you could still see your strap on ! I bought you that! We had our first threesome on that with Nigel Havers' accountant.
Anyway, plenty more fish, and I'm not talking about your girlfriend!
I've taken the ferret and gone to stay at mothers house.
Don't try to contact me else I'll blow this whole, sorry affair wide open.
Yours (was),
Fanny Haddock.
　This is an automated message. Auntie Val of The Daily Blurb Group of Newspapers is currently out of office until Tuesday January 3rd 2012. Your message has been automatically forwarded and re-addressed to our sister paper and will be considered in due course by their expert, Deirdre. We can assure you that any material within your message will be dealt with in a confidential, professional, and sympathetic manner and will certainly not be open to gossip or ridicule or will not be sold on to other publications. 
　

Dear Dreary.
I've just started a new job as a conductor on a bus and quite frankly it's not what I expected.
Non of the people who hop on the number 14 can play an instrument which I find extraordinary. I mean, what are they thinking? I've been conducting for some years now, I'm known locally, yet these heathens sit in front of me, staring like I'm some mad eccentric, in MY orchestra and can't even play a note.
Some oaf rings the bell occasionally but it's hardly Mahler.
I mean, perhaps I'm being too touchy! They all buy a ticket. Perhaps it's me they've come to see! I should go solo!
PS I've received a disciplinary letter from my employer. They said that if I continue waving my magic wand about I could be done for gbh under health and safety and sent back to the loony bin.
Well, I havn't got a 'baton' any more. Some thugish yob snapped it in two and disposed of it.
Could you recommend a reputable gynaecologist?
Yours,
Andre Botty-Jelly.



Dear Andre.
It’s a sad reflection of today's economic climate that over-qualified and gifted employees have to resort to menial jobs. I had a letter recently from Russell Grant who now drives a gritting lorry for Thames Valley Borough Council. He suffers from depression and terrible chaffing in the low temperatures. Les Dennis is working as on a conveyor belt at United Utilities, grading hard stools, and Fatboy Slim is once again obese and works three evenings a week as a ''before'' model for Slimmers World. You've just got to take what you can for now and hope things improve.
As for your baton problem, i will send you my self-extraction pack that i usually send to pregnant women preferring a home birth and butt plug extremists. It consists of three different sized plastic tongs, a floor-mounted mirror, a micro torch (wipe clean),and a free sample of Kirsty Young jelly.
By the way, his she related?
Dreary.x

Dear Readers.
Before I forget, here are the answers to my little easter pop quiz from the other day.
Happy easter.
Dreary.x

Answers to Music Quiz.
A1: Save all your pisses for me.
A2: Eaton trifles.A3: Wig wam lamb.A4: Rebel Pebble.A5: Here comes the bunA6: Bohemian Raspberry.A7: Honey for Nothing.A8: Come on feel the toys.A9: Pearl’s a swinger.A10: Great balls of friar.A11: Hive Talking.

Dear Dreary.
I hope you can help me settle a marital disagreement that has escalated into a serious business problem .
My family originates from Strasbourg and since 1664 has owned the most famous brewery in France, responsible for the production of a quality beer loved by the French and many others across Europe. My fellow countrymen are still able to enjoy our product at 5.5%, but, abroad we became victims of our own success and the stringent UK tax laws forced us to down-grade to 5%. Our product has nevertheless been a great success in Britain for decades and continues to be so, but I'm afraid that is not the end of the story.
During a fact-finding mission to Leuven in Belgium, I encountered Lady Stella Artois, a fascinating, beautiful Belgian heiress whose family were in the same business as my own. In no time at all I was hooked. Her compelling, exquisitely sweet taste drew me back time after time. She was always finely presented and easy on the eye, and I found her premium strength satisfied me like no other. Within months we were inseparable and I dreamed of the perfect union of of master brewers and the future generations of perfection we could create. We married in Paris and were blissfully happy for years.
Alas, the UK government has intervened again. I was all for maintaining our family's mark of quality and targeting the top end of the market, but the price increase forced on the business was too much for Stella's family and they opted to down-grade to a slightly weaker beer and aim for the mass market. We argued constantly and, I must admit, this has affected our marriage. We seem to be constantly at loggerheads, competing against each other. Thank god I've never sober enough to give her the children she's craved.
The only thing we still have in common is our joint hatred of those despicable, tacky supermarket own-barnded beers that the low-life scumbag British now lap up as they undercut us by slipping the government endless back-handers.
Can you suggest a way forward for us? I still want us to stay together, but I fear the our business differencies are going to drive us apart.
Yours,
Baron Von Kronenbourg, Alsace.

Dear Baron.
To be honest we British couldn't give a rats whisker what you ponsy lot get up to over the stream. If I'm to be perfectly frank I can make a pint of me widdle taste better than that muck you churn out.
When our Theakston was born up in Masham times were tough, demanding a brew to be strong, robust and could take yer head off without so much as a by your leave.
Similarly, Charles Wells would certainly play the dandy but cross him and you'd be shitting through the eye of a needle.
And I suppose you think that a treck across our Lakeland fells is sustained by mint cake and mars bars? Wrong. Ten pints of Wainrights should just about see to that.
My cat, Owd Tom, shags rats for a laugh. In short, we're hard bastards over here and refuse to drop our standards let alone our strength.
If you persist in your incessant whining I shall send the Hobgoblins over, thrust a Fursty Ferrett down your trousers and give you a Skull Spliter you'll never forget.
PS do not incur the wrath of The Bishops Finger!
Sod off.
Dreary. x

Dear Readers.
I feel I owe you all an apology.
My last published article was last Saturday and I bet you've all been wondering where on earth I've got to? Ooo, vain cow!
Well, I was putting the bins out on Sunday night when this gentleman pulled right up my drive and began to ask me the directions to Dickies Meadow.
I was just bending down to adjust my tights when he grabbed me by my platex and bundled me into the back of the car.
Next thing I know i wake up in a strange bed, handcuffed to the chamber pot with two wild, staring eyes looking down upon my modesty.
Turns out it was one of my most avid fans, Sir Billy Hymalaya of the Nepalese Mounted Police, who just wanted to get to know me a little better.
I said that I was flattered but strapping my feet to a plank of wood and beating it with a lump hammer to the rhythm of 'friggin in the riggin' by the Sex Pistols was not best policy to win the heart of a ladies affections.
Suffice to say that I eventually talked him round to letting me go once I'd agreed that he could ride me around his paddock whilst feeding from a nose bag.
He's just dropped me back home not half an hour ago and I'm just running him a hot bath whilst I slip into something a little more........comfortable. Think I'm for the high jump later.
Anyway, normal service shall be resumed tomorrow and tonight I would like to leave you with a pop quiz with a twist. I'll provide the answers later on in the week.
Happy Easter, and may we all be at it like rabbits!
Dreary. x

A Very Dreary Music Quiz.

Q1: Brotherhood of mans songwriter had a weird hobby, collecting urine samples. This inspired him to create one of their biggest hits.
　
　
Q2: Which popular hit by the jam was inspired by young public school boys who gorged themselves from the sweet trolley?
　
Q3: Which Sweet hit was inspired by eating a minted Sunday roast in a teepee?
　
　
　
Q4: The seaside fairy tale of the pebbles on the beach has remained in the hearts of children for centuries, especially that very naughty one who didn’t do as the other pebbles did.
Which David Bowie hit was inspired by this classic tale?
　
　
　
Q5: Which 1968 George Harrison tune was actually the brainchild of his master baker father one morning as he greeted the arrival of the first newly baked barm cake of the day?



Q6: Once upon a time there was a family of small fruit. Daddy fruit worked in the local bank whilst mummy fruit looked after the day to day runnings of the house.
They had three children. Two grew up to be successful in their chosen careers, one a teacher, the other an accountant.
The third, an equally intelligent and loving little berry took a different path through life.
He dressed rather hip and cool and sometimes smoked weed. He travelled extensively, hung out with artistic, musical types, often sleeping rough along the way. He now runs a rescue centre for reject berries who are no use in ribena for example.
What Queen hit was inspired by this adorable, ancient little fable?

Q7: The local insect population of a small Northern fishing town were up in arms over the week-end. They were protesting over a government white paper that basically gives tax exemption on the pollination of all flowers by the local bee fraternity.
One local at the scene of todays rally said it was a disgrace. The bees are being given free reign to pollinate free of charge. It’s a licence to print money for those buzzy little bastards!
What Dire Straits hit has since become the anthem of revolt against those freeloading bumbles?
　
　
Q8: Noddy had a dark secret. He often visited the basement of Hoytie Toyties and changed in to his favourite uniform. He then invited his comrades to?
　
　
　
Q9: Elkie Brookes famously sang a song about her best mate who insisted on going to wife swapping parties. Name the tune.
　
　
　
Q10: Which song did Jerry Lee Lewis write about his admiration of Robins’ favourite clergyman’s swonnicles?
　
　
Q11: Mr Bumble the bee keeper was shocked when he noticed his bees refused to go back in their bee house. They said it was haunted and they kept hearing the house speak to them. Mr Bumble called in the exorcist.
What Bee Gees hit was inspired by this national news article?