Dear Dreary.
I've recently been made unemployed and finding another job has proven very difficult.
However, I have been fortunate to find a new job but it's not really what I expected.
I've got a job as a door supervisor. Why a door needs supervising is beyond me.
I watch it open. I watch it close. Sometimes things are posted through it. Most of the time it does nothing. Some have tried knocking on it. I saw this as deliberate and willful damage and quite rightly informed the appropriate authorities.
In winter months I have noticed that the wood swells and requires a more
concentrated 'push' to gain access, again which I see as a very aggressive act. I've offered to plain the wood but the way things are going I feel like knocking somebody's block off!
I'd prefer supervising a curtain in a ladies changing room.
Please help,
Gok Wank,
Stools.

Dearest Gok.
You talk of wanting to put an end to slamming swollen wood into various holes and your desire to be amongst women changing. This is bog standard, first year Uni social worker territory, the obvious and thinly-veiled wish to transform both your life and your gender, the hope to make things "plain" as you say.
Before rushing into things however, a couple of words if warning. I would advise you to complete the trans gender process as quickly as possible, otherwise you may find that you suffer from what are commonly termed "confused genes", what the experts call "Geneality Amendment and Synchrinicity Hormones" illness (GASH).
If the GASH is not correctly aligned, you will encounter a subsequent problem with the Core Lip and Internal Treatment (CLIT), that may result in a deformed Central Uterus Node Tract. I would also recommend that you read Professor Naggi Itchimufti's famous study paper "Testes : What Are The Signs? ", commonly known as the "TWATS guide".
Once you have completed the process my only advice would be to stand behind the curtains and pull yourself together.
Happy surgery! D.

Dear Dreary.
I'm not sure if you are qualified to help, but any advice would be welcome as a procession of doctors appear to be baffled. Thing is, my Helmut keeps going a funny colour. He's been an excitable lad since his early teens, up for anything, anytime. Robust and upstanding, he has always been a fine healthy specimen, coping admirably with life's ups and downs, always coming up smelling of roses whatever nasty hole he gets himself into.
He has always handled himself correctly, and had always shown himself to be brimming over with good old fashioned spunk, especially first thing in the morning. Recently, however, i have been worried about his well-being and general demeanour.
Whenever he gets worked up he seems to turn a reddish-pinky shade, often building up to the point where his head becomes quite purple and looks like its about to explode. His veins bulge and he develops a strange twitch around his eye. Doctors just laugh when i describe the symptoms and suggest he counts his blessings.
I have no idea what they are referring to.
Can you possibly put your finger on it?.
Yours, P.Niss,

Dear P.
Helmut sounds a head strong character and shouldn't be rubbed up the wrong way.
If his head starts throbbing, open a window perhaps, let the air get to him.
If it can at all be avoided, never let him get into a tight spot or a sticky situation.
Talk to him. Encourage him to seek others of a similar vein. See what catches his eye.
He needs a firm hand and a stiff reserve. If he does take it the wrong way and buggers off then he may seek shelter at the YMCA.
It's a young man's game I'm afraid and he shouldn't take shit from just anybody!
Dreary. xx

Dear Dreary.
I live in the country, a little village called Bumming. I'm quite old fashioned and also an avid gardener. My back garden slopes down to the river which can make it awfully difficult when mowing the lawn etc, but it's a labour of love.
Smallbuoys, my sheepdog is a constant companion these days.
My Spanish pen pal Quan King has been staying with me until recently too.
All's been going swimmingly until a recent trip into the city gave me a bloody nose and a lynch mob after me.
I was having a drink in the local pub when I got chatting with a group of rugby players from Wales who were on tour. We were
having a nice chat until I'd finished telling them all about myself when one of them shouted nonce! and hit me with his stool.
I'd only said I was an up hill gardener who was particularly fond of Bumming, Quan King and Smallbuoys.
What's the matter with people these days? I blame Colour telly!
George Pennis
Much Bumming
Lube.

Dear George.
I know exactly where you're coming from. People seem to live on a knife edge these days, ready to kick off at the drop of a feather boa. My cousin Vinny got in a right pickle at the weekend just walking down the high street. He saw a friendly looking woman leaning against a lampost.
On it was a sign that read "Have You Seen My Pussy?". Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he lifted up the womans skirt and turned on his miner's helmet.
Well, you would, wouldn’t you? She poleaxed him with a swift, well-aimed kick to the unmentionables.
How was he supposed to know that a kitten had been lost in the vicinity? Now he's scared to leave the house and completely unable to play his favourite game, Erecting A Tent Under The Duvet.
All you can do George is keep smiling whilst you recover.
Bumming can wait.
Toodles!! D.

Dear Dreary.
I am a single woman of, lets say, certain years. I have been experiencing problems with my front bell for some time. It has been working only intermittently for years, but now seems to have stopped ringing altogether. I find that this has gradually resulted in fewer and fewer gentlemen callers, to the point where nobody comes to my front at all now.
Even the milkman has stopped deliveries. Is there an easy remedy, or should I, given my age, be considering viable alternatives? I could consider clearing out my back garden to make access possible from the rear, but have no previous experience in this area. Do you think it would be worth the trouble? I know a handyman who may be willing to help.
Yours, Miss Fanny Dust.

My dear Miss Dust.
Perhaps you might consider opening up your front, making it wider, more spacious and ultimately more appealing to any prospective callers.
You may also consider 'knocking through' front to back to create a bigger space. Somewhere to park that bike!
If your hanging baskets are doing what it says on the tin, so to speak, you may wish to perk them up with some baby bio and some thing to support your sagging bulbs.
Your trailing labilia is sadly a sign of your age, however, a stiff, hardy perennial should soon put a smile back on your face.
I do know there are plenty of gentlemen who would love to put an extension up around your back end. Once a stable erection is in place there would be no stopping a reputable handyman slapping a good trowels worth around your drain pipe and widening your options!
All the best, Dreary. x

Dear Dreary.
These savages out here are light years behind civilization. They have no idea. I came out here a few months ago to educate these neglected folk on matters to do with sex education, contraception, and childbirth, but it is a thankless task. Some days its like the wild west out there. They sleep around with anything that moves ( including livestock in certain cases; now i know how Buffalo Bill earnt his name ), and don't know the meaning of the word contraception. They simply have no shame. One chap in the town comes from a Sioux family, such is his reputation amongst the womenfolk he is called Dances With Stiff One. He puts it about all over town with the local squaw whores and is (so i'm told) a proper wigwam bam merchant.
I paid him a visit, professionally of course, to check his sexual health, and believe me he is a picture of health down there. Built like a tent pole he is. I tried to demonstrate some pigskin condoms to him but he was too large for them and kept squirting across the teepee.
Even put the fire out. He has to fit a sling underneath his loin cloth to stop himself slipping out and he has several wives, including Walks With Bowlegs, Chuff Like A Bucket, and Insides All Buggered
He insists on riding bareback at all times, so expect more boys named Sioux running round here soon. What can i do to persuade him to cover up?
Doctor Quim, Medicine Woman,Big Horn.

My dear Dr. Quim.
Dances With Stiff One is certainly a handful by what you say and therefore should be handled with great care.
Carpe Phallasium! - Seize The Knob! With both hands in this instance.
Like someone who is trying to lose weight you must begin by reducing his appetite, remove those tasty treats he likes dipping into! Then, he should be left with just the men and the horses. Should he then start running around chasing the men and the horses with his under hammock in full swing then you may need to re address the situation. Dances With Handbags just wouldn't have the same ring to it.
General Custard will laugh his hat off unless of course Handbags gets hold of him!
How!
Dreary. xx

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