Dear Dreary.
What do you think about this? I was out carol singing the other night when i noticed something going on, even though i had some of my favourite carols in my head. Drugs king Wes Les Ness went out with his nephew Stephen. They had a 12 inch Dominos, deep pan, crisp and even. Brightly shone the moon that night and the frost was cruel. When a poor man came in sight the bastards mugged the fool.
Two friends Holly and Ivy appeared, and both were fully-grown. They also stuck the boot in and the fucker did'nt half moan.
Three blokes then turned up singing : 'we three queens of funny girls are,one in a tutu one in a bra, one in a gimp suit sucking a grapefruit,following yonder tart. Thongs of wonder, thongs so bright, thongs up arseholes stained with shite, santas coming, for a bumming, emptying his sack all night.' Later, away in the hospice,no bench for a bed, the battered old wino lays down his bruised head. The scumbags are gloating, the homos awake, but the poor little hobo no movement he makes.
So help me dear Deirdre, I ask you to say, advise me forever and write me i pray.
Hark! The Evening Herald sings : 15 years for the old drugs king.
Glad tidings,Nic.
Dear Nic.
People do forget there is a dark, seedy side to this festive time and you have been witness to some terrible things.
On the estate where I live we have seen our fair share of Christmas calamity. Families feud constantly and no one is safe.
The other night whilst The Shepards washed their cocks whilst seated on the bed, Liz Angel from next door came around and promptly gave them head!
The three Kings brothers who live in a flat above Orient Spar are worse. One drives a tractor, the other a hearse. Killed a copper who came a cropper, he'd left it in reverse.
The Halls got blamed for this and were decked with a baseball bat and left for dead in a holly bush.
Our City is run by the notorious David Royal. Once, there stood a lonely drunk smack head. Got a mother and a baby, two pit bulls and off his head. Mary was the mother, wild she was but, Jesus Christ!!!! That wasn't his child.
Peace on earth, my arse.
Tuesday, 4 December 2012
Monday, 3 December 2012
Dear Dreary.
Tis the season to be jolly but not I'm afraid in our house.
We don't have a chimney. We live in a block of council flats and the truth is, Santa won't stand a chance if he tries to empty his sack round ours.
The only gobble anyone gets round here is round the back of the lift shaft.
Any reports if a stuffed bird on the table is generally some reference to some slapper who's been banged over the pool table in The Needle and Pram pub.
My auntie Mary's boy child isn't called Jesus, nor was he born in a barn on Christmas Day. He's called Leroy and was born in a nightclub on Saturday.
The three Kings appear quite frequently, usually on a poker night.
We do have a Joseph round the local area who, like his famous carpenter namesake, is handy with a piece of wood in his hand. Unfortunately in this case, it's more often than not a baseball bat.
The only reference to Bethlehem is some crude graffiti scrawled on a bench in the bus shelter which eloquently reads 'Beth/Liam shagged 'ere'.
And if people would only scrub their sprouts round 'ere it would at least reduce the queue at the Health Centre.
Please Dreary, don't let Santa stop here. The only light in the night sky folk around these parts follow is the police helicopter.
Yours,
Stella Artwat,
Crumbling Heights,
Mold.
Dear Stella.
What a sorry state of affairs. Santa does'nt see good or bad, or right or wrong. He just sees where a little hapiness needs to be srinkled, the places where he's most appreciated,where the kids happy smiling faces will light up the most. I suspect the reason for your letter may be a tad more down to earth than you are letting on. I saw your ravaged pockmarked visage on Crimewatch last month. The family business had an early morning visit then? Spared another stretch because there's nobody left to look after the kids? I now know where you're coming from with your desperate dispicable heartless plea to santa. Not nice when your assets are frozen in december. So your ploy will not work, you can tell little Chardonnay, Peaches, Britney, Beyonce, and baby Winston that santa WILL be calling after all. Get back to your day job, do some horizontal overtime, and get those punters sucked. Christmas is for families. If you would like to visit yours,ring HM Prisons to check seasonal opening times. All the best.
Tis the season to be jolly but not I'm afraid in our house.
We don't have a chimney. We live in a block of council flats and the truth is, Santa won't stand a chance if he tries to empty his sack round ours.
The only gobble anyone gets round here is round the back of the lift shaft.
Any reports if a stuffed bird on the table is generally some reference to some slapper who's been banged over the pool table in The Needle and Pram pub.
My auntie Mary's boy child isn't called Jesus, nor was he born in a barn on Christmas Day. He's called Leroy and was born in a nightclub on Saturday.
The three Kings appear quite frequently, usually on a poker night.
We do have a Joseph round the local area who, like his famous carpenter namesake, is handy with a piece of wood in his hand. Unfortunately in this case, it's more often than not a baseball bat.
The only reference to Bethlehem is some crude graffiti scrawled on a bench in the bus shelter which eloquently reads 'Beth/Liam shagged 'ere'.
And if people would only scrub their sprouts round 'ere it would at least reduce the queue at the Health Centre.
Please Dreary, don't let Santa stop here. The only light in the night sky folk around these parts follow is the police helicopter.
Yours,
Stella Artwat,
Crumbling Heights,
Mold.
Dear Stella.
What a sorry state of affairs. Santa does'nt see good or bad, or right or wrong. He just sees where a little hapiness needs to be srinkled, the places where he's most appreciated,where the kids happy smiling faces will light up the most. I suspect the reason for your letter may be a tad more down to earth than you are letting on. I saw your ravaged pockmarked visage on Crimewatch last month. The family business had an early morning visit then? Spared another stretch because there's nobody left to look after the kids? I now know where you're coming from with your desperate dispicable heartless plea to santa. Not nice when your assets are frozen in december. So your ploy will not work, you can tell little Chardonnay, Peaches, Britney, Beyonce, and baby Winston that santa WILL be calling after all. Get back to your day job, do some horizontal overtime, and get those punters sucked. Christmas is for families. If you would like to visit yours,ring HM Prisons to check seasonal opening times. All the best.
Dear Dreary.
I went swimming the other day to get fit and promised myself that on the first day I would swim five lengths, which I did. Trouble is, I'm now stuck in the deep end of the swimming baths with no way of getting out as the changing rooms and exit from the baths are accessed from the shallow end. I know I should have geared myself up for six lengths but there you have it I suppose. Stranded.
I've gone all wrinkly and very chilly. The pool attendants have been most encouraging, one or two even suggesting that I swim to the other
end or climb up the ladder out of the pool and walk back around. Ah, the ignorance of youth!
I'm getting in the way of an aqua zumba class at the moment and people are accusing me of leaving floaters in the pool. Well, I have been stranded for over a week, what do they expect?
Save me!
Yours,
Sharon Crisp
Poolton
Dear Sharon.
I went swimming the other day to get fit and promised myself that on the first day I would swim five lengths, which I did. Trouble is, I'm now stuck in the deep end of the swimming baths with no way of getting out as the changing rooms and exit from the baths are accessed from the shallow end. I know I should have geared myself up for six lengths but there you have it I suppose. Stranded.
I've gone all wrinkly and very chilly. The pool attendants have been most encouraging, one or two even suggesting that I swim to the other
end or climb up the ladder out of the pool and walk back around. Ah, the ignorance of youth!
I'm getting in the way of an aqua zumba class at the moment and people are accusing me of leaving floaters in the pool. Well, I have been stranded for over a week, what do they expect?
Save me!
Yours,
Sharon Crisp
Poolton
Dear Sharon.
A less appropriate surname would be hard to imagine,given your current predicament. I commend your patience and fortitude. I am very impressed. A couple of thoughts spring to mind : do they turn the lights off at night? You could pretend to be a Titanic survivor,clinging desperately to passing turds, or an Amity Island holidaymaker squinting through the darkness on the lookout for that solitary fin. Just a couple of ideas to help you get through those damp lonely evenings. I also wondered how much weight you had lost during your forced immersion. You could be onto something there. New diets are always popular, and there would be no easy opt-out with this method. Lack of willpower would not even be a consideration,especially if the participant were say padlocked to a heavy bouy or possibly chained to an anchor. Perhaps you could let me know at what point the skin begins to degenerate and flake off. Just so i can cover my back against possible future legal claims after i h
ave launched the diet. I was thinking of calling it The Swim Yourself Slim Diet. I'd be interested in what
you think. And lets face it,you have plenty of thinking time on your wrinkly hands. D.
I'm very sorry. I can't reply presently as my Basildon Bond keeps getting wet and my Parker pen won't work under water.
ave launched the diet. I was thinking of calling it The Swim Yourself Slim Diet. I'd be interested in what
you think. And lets face it,you have plenty of thinking time on your wrinkly hands. D.
I'm very sorry. I can't reply presently as my Basildon Bond keeps getting wet and my Parker pen won't work under water.
Saturday, 1 December 2012
Dear Dreary.
I'm a dog, and have a loving owner who thinks the world of me. He's always had dogs, working dogs, show dogs, you name it. He's lived and breathed a dogs life, so much so that I have grown very concerned for his recent behaviour and well being.
On Sunday I trotted into the kitchen as usual for my breakfast. I was horrified to find my owner with his nose buried in the last of my chicken and rabbit from the dog bowl before rolling over on the kitchen floor and licking his balls.
That wasn't the worst of it.
We were out walking the other morning when
he stopped right outside the front gate of the vicarage, dropped his trousers and shit all over the pavement. I was mortified having to knock and ask the vicars house keeper for something to clean it up with. She was very kind and provided a set of silver tongues and a silk handkerchief. I walked down the garden path and out onto the pavement to clean up the mess to find my owner shagging the lolipop lady doggy style on the grass verge.
Anyway, someone called the dog warden and they've taken him away and locked him in a kennel.
I'm too embarrassed to go and collect him.
What should I do?
Yours,
Dil The Dog.
Deat Dil. I always knew this would happen. As soon as it became the norm for owners to clean up after their pets,it was inevitable that one day the tables would be turned and some dogs would take advantage. I mean, what a fantastic ego boost to be able to shit anywhere you want and have someone immediately pick it up for you and carry it home! Dogs are also eating a healthier diet than ever before,so are consequently more regular in the toilet department. Perfect! Even more for your down-trodden owner to pick up. No wonder dogs are living longer. No reliance these days on bonemeal to supplement the diet: when's the last time you saw white dogshit? Animal Farm is becoming reality! This may be the start of the revolution Dil, so i am honour bound to dob you in to the authorities before it gets out of hand. By the way, you type brilliantly! D.
Thankyou.
It was very wuff at our school, the headmaster wouldn't think twice about hitting you with his canine! I can also speak English sheepdog, French poodle and German shepherd.
The warden is on his way. And he won't be taking any shit from you. Ever been to Battersea?
Do you know, my Dography's terrierable!
Is it near Clacton?
I'm a dog, and have a loving owner who thinks the world of me. He's always had dogs, working dogs, show dogs, you name it. He's lived and breathed a dogs life, so much so that I have grown very concerned for his recent behaviour and well being.
On Sunday I trotted into the kitchen as usual for my breakfast. I was horrified to find my owner with his nose buried in the last of my chicken and rabbit from the dog bowl before rolling over on the kitchen floor and licking his balls.
That wasn't the worst of it.
We were out walking the other morning when
he stopped right outside the front gate of the vicarage, dropped his trousers and shit all over the pavement. I was mortified having to knock and ask the vicars house keeper for something to clean it up with. She was very kind and provided a set of silver tongues and a silk handkerchief. I walked down the garden path and out onto the pavement to clean up the mess to find my owner shagging the lolipop lady doggy style on the grass verge.
Anyway, someone called the dog warden and they've taken him away and locked him in a kennel.
I'm too embarrassed to go and collect him.
What should I do?
Yours,
Dil The Dog.
Deat Dil. I always knew this would happen. As soon as it became the norm for owners to clean up after their pets,it was inevitable that one day the tables would be turned and some dogs would take advantage. I mean, what a fantastic ego boost to be able to shit anywhere you want and have someone immediately pick it up for you and carry it home! Dogs are also eating a healthier diet than ever before,so are consequently more regular in the toilet department. Perfect! Even more for your down-trodden owner to pick up. No wonder dogs are living longer. No reliance these days on bonemeal to supplement the diet: when's the last time you saw white dogshit? Animal Farm is becoming reality! This may be the start of the revolution Dil, so i am honour bound to dob you in to the authorities before it gets out of hand. By the way, you type brilliantly! D.
Thankyou.
It was very wuff at our school, the headmaster wouldn't think twice about hitting you with his canine! I can also speak English sheepdog, French poodle and German shepherd.
The warden is on his way. And he won't be taking any shit from you. Ever been to Battersea?
Do you know, my Dography's terrierable!
Is it near Clacton?
No its near London zoo,which is rubbish by the way. Shit zoo.
Thursday, 22 November 2012
Dear Dreary.
I'm a very old crocodile and I live with my wife in a river.
I used to watch me dad fighting Tarzan and swallowing Wilder beast from the comfort of the river bank.
Those were the days, when crocs were crocs.
Things have got steadily worse over the years, the old ways giving in to new ones.
My daughter for example always used to say, when she was a child, 'I want to be a handbag when I grow up'! And our Colin always wanted to be shoes. Fortunately, jobs were easier to come by in those days and our kids were lucky and their dreams came true, big time. Colin not only became a pair of shoes but several belts, wallets and a passport holder. Our Christine became a hat box for Liz Taylor.
I've got the photo! Very proud.
Of course, it's very difficult for the grand kids to find work these days. They're all wanting to move into television but with the death of Steve Irwin, Neighbours moving to Ch5 and Home & Away (god only knows) it's impossible to find work.
Is there to be a new Crocodile Dundee movie or perhaps a new Jimmy Nail video?
Yours,
Clifford S Napper.
Dear Cliffy.
I'm a very old crocodile and I live with my wife in a river.
I used to watch me dad fighting Tarzan and swallowing Wilder beast from the comfort of the river bank.
Those were the days, when crocs were crocs.
Things have got steadily worse over the years, the old ways giving in to new ones.
My daughter for example always used to say, when she was a child, 'I want to be a handbag when I grow up'! And our Colin always wanted to be shoes. Fortunately, jobs were easier to come by in those days and our kids were lucky and their dreams came true, big time. Colin not only became a pair of shoes but several belts, wallets and a passport holder. Our Christine became a hat box for Liz Taylor.
I've got the photo! Very proud.
Of course, it's very difficult for the grand kids to find work these days. They're all wanting to move into television but with the death of Steve Irwin, Neighbours moving to Ch5 and Home & Away (god only knows) it's impossible to find work.
Is there to be a new Crocodile Dundee movie or perhaps a new Jimmy Nail video?
Yours,
Clifford S Napper.
Dear Cliffy.
Auntie Dreary has passed your enquiry on to me as she's staying over here for the Clam festival. I am sorry to say this but its a simple case of you being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Africa has had its day. The future is out here in the Keys. All the Florida sunshine you can manage, and murky yet appealing waters crammed full of tasty Yankee crayfish, and fat juicy Yanks on lightweight hovercrafts all over the place. I never need to go anywhere a
else to eat my fill. I have also appeared as an extra on "A Place In The Sun", have been offered a lead role in the new Miami Vice movie, (where i get to swallow Danny De Vito whole!), and i have a permanent walk on part on the fairway of the eigjteenth hole at the Florida Masters. This is the life! There is also the prospect of retirement at the new Disney Zoo, where i will feature in the Peter Pan enclosure. Why don't you put in for a transfer and come and join me?
else to eat my fill. I have also appeared as an extra on "A Place In The Sun", have been offered a lead role in the new Miami Vice movie, (where i get to swallow Danny De Vito whole!), and i have a permanent walk on part on the fairway of the eigjteenth hole at the Florida Masters. This is the life! There is also the prospect of retirement at the new Disney Zoo, where i will feature in the Peter Pan enclosure. Why don't you put in for a transfer and come and join me?
Regards, Ally Gator, Key West.
Friday, 16 November 2012
Dear Dreary.
I wish to make allegations against several seventies rock musicians, the confessions and carry on lot and the porn industry.
I was a groupie in those days and followed all the top bands around in the hope of getting a closer look you might say. Once, Jimmy Poge of Deep Turtle found me hiding naked in his cistern cupboard at a hotel and promptly aroused a member of staff before slapping my buttocks with a dead fish.
Once, on the set of 'Confessions of a Druggy Slapper' I was snorting a line if coke off Robin Askme's knob when suddenly he reached out and touched me just above the knee. It was
disgusting!
On the set of carry on matron I was in the dressing room with some of the other girls having a sexy lesbian orgy when Bernard Braces walked passed, stopped and went Phwoar, looking right at me! The dirty pervert has ruined my life ever since.
During filming 'Spunk Everywhere, Fist Me Without My Pants On' I was being spit roasted by my co-actors when one of the camera men starting filming it for fuck sake! I couldn't believe it! Peeping Tom!!
Anyway, like I said, my life is in tatters now thanks to these dirty molesting bastards!
Give me some compo I'm hard up,
Linda Lovepants.
Paris.
Ah Linda.
Do i detect that familiar sound of an ex-celeb hitting rock bottom? Where have you been for the last 30 years? I take it the money has run out. You can forget the desperate plea for compo. Time to seek employment in the grannie-porn market i'm afraid. Get yourself into the studio and get out those once luscious,fullsome boobies and let em warm your kneecaps; trim the grey goarse from your once tight love lips and get used to the feel of them flapping in the wind. There is a whole new market out there ready to welcome you with open legs. Current hotflix in the 'mature' field include 'Granny Rides Delaney's Donkey', 'Nanphomaniac 2: Anal Bingo', 'Fill My Ageing Dried-up Tunnel Sonny', 'My Gums Await', and 'Flaps Down'. With your reputation you cannot fail. It's a lucrative market and if you employ a good accountant you could receive your pension as well!
Swallow your pride : you'll need the space in your throat. D.
Well I like that!!
You might just as well have put your hand up my skirt as say those derogatory remarks!
You big fat lezza! I'll make sure you never work again!
I wish to make allegations against several seventies rock musicians, the confessions and carry on lot and the porn industry.
I was a groupie in those days and followed all the top bands around in the hope of getting a closer look you might say. Once, Jimmy Poge of Deep Turtle found me hiding naked in his cistern cupboard at a hotel and promptly aroused a member of staff before slapping my buttocks with a dead fish.
Once, on the set of 'Confessions of a Druggy Slapper' I was snorting a line if coke off Robin Askme's knob when suddenly he reached out and touched me just above the knee. It was
disgusting!
On the set of carry on matron I was in the dressing room with some of the other girls having a sexy lesbian orgy when Bernard Braces walked passed, stopped and went Phwoar, looking right at me! The dirty pervert has ruined my life ever since.
During filming 'Spunk Everywhere, Fist Me Without My Pants On' I was being spit roasted by my co-actors when one of the camera men starting filming it for fuck sake! I couldn't believe it! Peeping Tom!!
Anyway, like I said, my life is in tatters now thanks to these dirty molesting bastards!
Give me some compo I'm hard up,
Linda Lovepants.
Paris.
Ah Linda.
Do i detect that familiar sound of an ex-celeb hitting rock bottom? Where have you been for the last 30 years? I take it the money has run out. You can forget the desperate plea for compo. Time to seek employment in the grannie-porn market i'm afraid. Get yourself into the studio and get out those once luscious,fullsome boobies and let em warm your kneecaps; trim the grey goarse from your once tight love lips and get used to the feel of them flapping in the wind. There is a whole new market out there ready to welcome you with open legs. Current hotflix in the 'mature' field include 'Granny Rides Delaney's Donkey', 'Nanphomaniac 2: Anal Bingo', 'Fill My Ageing Dried-up Tunnel Sonny', 'My Gums Await', and 'Flaps Down'. With your reputation you cannot fail. It's a lucrative market and if you employ a good accountant you could receive your pension as well!
Swallow your pride : you'll need the space in your throat. D.
Well I like that!!
You might just as well have put your hand up my skirt as say those derogatory remarks!
You big fat lezza! I'll make sure you never work again!
Dear Dreary.
HElP! I believe battery hen farming has been made illegal, but i had to move huts recently and am now being forced to work in a soulless enclosed space that has no natural light or atmosphere.
My closest friend has been sent to slaughter and my new colleagues are boring and unfriendly, and the boss is so incompetent that he hasn't even yet realised that not only am i still to produce my first egg, but that this is because i am actually a cock. Our production levels are to be checked at the end of the month so i can't imagine what will be said.
Those all around me seem happy enough and keep pecking away, apparently happy with their lot. I think though that this could be because they are all either conditioned to be braindead or have no sense of humour whatsoever.
I would love the fox to get in one night and chew their fat irrelevant knecks. Is this my reward for years of loyal service? Maybe it will be for the best if i join my buddy.
I am so unhappy.
Please help me.
Floghorn Cleghorn, Henley.
Dear Cleggy.
A cock like you needs to spread it's wings! You need to get out whilst you can before they realise that you are incapable of laying an egg and they reduce your daily corn allowance.
You need to leave the coup door open leaving your cramped space vulnerable to attack from a wily old fox. He could ravage all the other hens, nick all the eggs causing such a commotion that no one will notice you slipping out the back.
It's time to break out. You decide when and how you like your eggs, not anyone else!
I like mine fertilised, call me?
Dreary. xx
HElP! I believe battery hen farming has been made illegal, but i had to move huts recently and am now being forced to work in a soulless enclosed space that has no natural light or atmosphere.
My closest friend has been sent to slaughter and my new colleagues are boring and unfriendly, and the boss is so incompetent that he hasn't even yet realised that not only am i still to produce my first egg, but that this is because i am actually a cock. Our production levels are to be checked at the end of the month so i can't imagine what will be said.
Those all around me seem happy enough and keep pecking away, apparently happy with their lot. I think though that this could be because they are all either conditioned to be braindead or have no sense of humour whatsoever.
I would love the fox to get in one night and chew their fat irrelevant knecks. Is this my reward for years of loyal service? Maybe it will be for the best if i join my buddy.
I am so unhappy.
Please help me.
Floghorn Cleghorn, Henley.
Dear Cleggy.
A cock like you needs to spread it's wings! You need to get out whilst you can before they realise that you are incapable of laying an egg and they reduce your daily corn allowance.
You need to leave the coup door open leaving your cramped space vulnerable to attack from a wily old fox. He could ravage all the other hens, nick all the eggs causing such a commotion that no one will notice you slipping out the back.
It's time to break out. You decide when and how you like your eggs, not anyone else!
I like mine fertilised, call me?
Dreary. xx
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