Saturday, 2 February 2013

Dear Lady Violet,

I had heard that the Moonies offered a brainwashing service, but decided not to go for it.  My problem is not having dirty thoughts but, rather, a total lack of them.  Or any action in that department whatsoever.

I nicked a whole pile of pornographic magazines from under my brother's bed, and I couldn't understand any of it.

And who is St George anyway?

Yours in anticipation, 

Lettice Basilisk (Miss)

Lady V:  Dear Miss Basilisk,

Oddly, St George was a Moonie. He caused a dragon to have a fatal heart attack by showing it his bottom. At the time he had several boils. The lack of dirty thoughts is a state much sought by the majority of the population. Just count yourself lucky.

Dear Lady Violet,

Every time I go out for a swim, I get pursued by an irritating bunch of blokes in a Pequod.  They just won't leave it alone.  I've tried chomping the leg off one of them, but even that didn't put the blighter off.  

When will they get the message and just leave me be?


Moby Dick (no relation to Spotted Dick)
The Sea

Lady V: Dear Mr Dick,

You are white and forty feet long. Get used to it.

Dear Lady Violet,

I recently put an advert on an online dating site.  In the bit where it said you had to describe your dream partner, I meant to put 'sporty type' and instead I hit the wrong key and put 'spotty type'.

Do you think I should go back and change it?


Hubert Blenkinsopp

Lady V: Dear Mr Blenkinsopp,

Do they do sport on Sark? Isn’t it too small for anything beyond petanque? Boules to you. With a name like yours and your geographic location having absolutely no society worth mentioning, I should forget the flawless complexion thing immediately and just be grateful if any young gel, spotty or otherwise, replies at all.

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