Thursday, 22 November 2012

Ask Lady Violet

Dear Lady Violet

I think my man's just not that into me. He addresses me affectionately as 'Toothless Mary', and says he's delighted we're together, but I'm not so sure.

You see, he hardly ever goes out with me in public and when we do, for example, he will go into the Public Bar and makes sure I go into the Saloon Bar. Once I saw him in the street talking to his mates and I went over and said hello and he pretended we'd never met before. He said he was worried about word getting round, but I'm not sure what he means.

Do you think he's ashamed of me? Should I be looking for a new man? Would it be a good idea to get a set of dentures?


Floribette Schuffenecker-Blartfast

My Dear Miss Blartfast,

No relation to the Shropshire Blartfasts I suppose? But no, probably, as none of them would have got themselves into this sort of pickle.

Men do tend to favour less than flattering pet names for their nearest and dearest. Why, Captain Bippy M.C.,V.C.,RsPcA., the love of my life, used to call me "My Old Gruntbucket" throughout our long and tempestuous relationship. I put this down to inherent shyness and a desire to be seen to be in control. And I think this is true in your case. My darling Bippy was very rich so I put up with it. Is your man rich? If so, bite your tongue (so to speak) and hope that you outlive him. Or, if he's a bit skint, buy some teeth and clear off.

Lady V

Dear Lady Violet

Well I was talking to this really hot bird I met when I was on my holidays but my house caught fire and I had to hang up really suddenly because the flames were lapping around near the turn-ups of my trousers and the phone melted and then I ran out of the house and accidentally dropped my mobile phone into a cesspit and I'd lost the piece of paper she'd written her phone number down on and I couldn't phone her because I'd stored the number in the other phone (now melted and drowned in cess) and eventually I decided to drive to a local library to look up her phone number on the internet. Her name is Renate Codswallop and she lives in a small village called Frogsbourne, in Derbyshire, and I thought this wouldn't be too difficult to find. It wasn't.

However, dear Lady Violet, my problems are now threefold:

- I haven't got any phones left
- Who's going to believe that story?
- My wife didn't believe it either.

What shall I do?


Declan Bonklecroncher, FRSA

Quite frankly, there's not a lot down for you my boy. I see from your letter that you have a wife. How on earth did you manage that? She must be an exceptionally stupid woman, so she probably will believe you. But the really shocking part of your letter is the portion which refers to TURN-UPS!! ABSOLUTELY NO-ONE WEARS TURN-UPS THESE DAYS! And a cess-pit! My advice to you, dear Declan, is that you should buy some fashionable trousers, get yourself on mains drainage pdq and buy a trainset.

Lady V.

Dear Lady Violet

I thought I might try a bit of online dating and checked out the available men in my age range (95 - 102). Unfortunately I already know most of them (and a right bunch of wasters they are too), and I'm related to the rest. I want to play it cool and not look too desperate. What should I do?


Emmeline Bagpuss xxx 

At your age, you really should know the answer to this one. Get yourself one of those nifty blow-up male sex dolls, a jerry-can full of light engineering oil, and a recording of Richard Tauber singing "You are My Heart's Delight". You'll never look back. Unless the doll's behind you.

Lady V.

1 comment:

  1. Dear Lady Violet
    I went about purchasing one of these mal blow up dolls as you suggested, however, it seems these days that packages in brown paper are no longer given. Whilst walking back to my invalid carriage I was spotted by a group of young males, who seemed to think that a woman of my age could not possibly need the use of such a device. I tried to fend them off, but in the end they opened the box and started to blow up "Brian" (a 6' Caucasian, with dark hair and blue eyes). It was as well that they all blew into him as I realised then that 5 strong men had difficulty in blowing "life" into "Brian" - something I would have had to use my hair dryer to do...

    The end result was rather staggering. The young men then decided that rather than a blow up "Brian", they would "show me a good time"...

    I am now pregnant, "Brian" has burst, and I am not quite sure which of the 5 young men it was who got me a "bun in the oven", however, I am glad to report that not only to I have 5 nights a week with a different man, but have become the oldest female to become pregnant.

    Do I need to marry 1 or all of these young men in order to bring up the child in a loving family?


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