Dear readers,
My problem page has gone viral. It is reaching into every corner of the Globe. I am being inundated with mail from Japan to Burma, from *****lia to Tasmania and from New York to Peckham. The name Loretta has become synonymous with healing and love.
Thank you for your continued support
Some more problems then:
Mrs Rhino and I have been scratching our heads, Mrs Rhino has found a couple of round holes that needs filling but after hours of greasing/heating/Soft Jazz/Margaret Thatcher speeches we're still struggling. All I've got is a couple of rusty square pegs, a hammer, and lots of questions on why kids need to drink milk. Mmm Nice.
I sympathise with your predicament. I did an African safari once while researching a book (
The Jungle in you: Releasing your animalistic desires) and happened upon two Rhinos trying to mate. It was a laborious process and reminded me of being intimate with one of my former partners who was, shall we say, not so pleasantly plump. It took hours for the beast on top to get in a position to "engage" and the noise coming from the animals sounded far from pleasurable. You can then imagine my horror when we were about to leave and I seen the "receiver" of the pair emerge from the grass with a great big 3 foot phallus dangling from underneath him. Perhaps in my youthful innocence I had assumed all four-legged members of the animal kingdom were straight. I suppose with the amount of polo-neck, white socks and sandals wearing American tourists they're subjected to in these parks daily, is it any wonder some of them turn gay?
Try sitting in an empty room with a Barry Manilow track on repeat for 24 hours. When you've come through that, you'll be able to do anything.
Good luck
Dear Swords, After complaining several times about the poor service and quality of their fare, the staff at my local restaurant invited me back for a complimentary meal by way of apology. I must say that the steak that I ordered was cooked to perfection, alongside which sat crispy French fries, mushrooms, half a grilled tomato and some petite pois. But once again they got my order wrong and, instead of a peppercorn sauce, drizzled across my aforementioned sirloin was a pearlescent concoction with the consistency of tacky glue. Imagine my embarrassment when I complained about this only to learn from the maître d'hôtel that it was in fact the chef's special sauce that he'd apparently rustled up specially for the occasion of my visit. Naturally not wishing to cause further unnecessary offence I wolfed the food down eagerly and restrained myself from further comment, even though the sauce was a little too salty for my usual tastes. Anyway, the staff had been clearly amused by my faux pas and had gathered behind the door to the kitchen, each vying for space at the window to laugh at my embarrassment.
So happy were they to now be making amends for their recent poor show, I have been invited back next week for Brown Derby, homemade lemonade and sticky toffee pudding. They've even mentioned a special soup that all staff will apparently have a hand in preparing.My question is this: do you think I should continue to take advantage of their bonhomie and conviviality, or should I now be satisfied that they've put enough of themselves into my mealtime experience and politely decline?
By all means go back and imbibe the cuisine which you have been offered but beware of sinister motivations behind this supposed goodwill gesture. I think the staff at this establishment are using you as a means of cheap entertainment. They lure you in with the offer of a bit of free grub and then take bets if you will, on this visit, notice the taste of bodily fluids in your peppercorn sauce of your vegetable soup. There was a reason it had the consistency of tacky glue.
The staff at these kinds of restaurants are normally young and/or foreign and would generally be Liberal minded. When they chance upon an unmistakable Tory (comb-over, copy of the Times, fake smile) such as yourself, they see it as an opportunity to give you, quite literally, a taste of your own medicine. The only way to avoid this is to try and "Lib up". Shave your head, don't brush your teeth ever again and, if possible, become an alcoholic.
You should have no further problems.
dear swords I want to buy a personalised number plate for my car but my missus reckons only w**kers buy those do I need to get myself a new wife or is she right
Both. She is right but you also need a new wife. w**kers have become an oppressed minority. The right to be a pompous, self-serving, loudmouth, showoff, chauvinistic cock is being eroded by aggressive secular liberalism. Your wife is part of this problem and her bigotry and lack of acceptance means shes not the one for you. Leave her and join a private members Golf club. You'll find plenty of like-minded w**kers there who will introduce you to a more compatible suitor.
All the best
Dear Loretta,I have been trying to persuade mrs Totally to sing Oh Bobby Zamora while I give her one from behind. She argues that it would restrict her pleasure because Bobby is not so good looking. She says that she would sing a song about Junior Hiollett, but I can't think of one. Can you help?
Perhaps this will help her:
I will be your Junior if you be my Daddy,
Give it to me long and hard and make me feel so baddy,
In the hole up and down, pink or brown like Hoilett,
I'll not forget how hard you went, when I'm on the Toilet.
Best of luck
Micheal Barrymore asked me to go swimming with him ........Y/N seems a good guy is there anything i should know ??
I wouldn't recommend it. Not unless you have a padlocked anal chastity belt doused in snake venom firmly fitted to your nether regions. Even then he'll probably try and drug you and repeatedly bounce your head of the tiled floor of the pool, all the while singing "Wake me up before you go go" at the top of his voice, before you succumb and he Strikes it Lucky.
Instead try and get out and meet new people. I'm sending you my leaflet
"Feel like you're stuck in a hole? Five quick ways to Lubricate your life"
Take care
Dear Swordsy Is there actually only one Bobby Zamora?
Its an empirical question really. Bobby Zamora is both one and everything. He has a bodily form but also has an intangible omnipresence. There's also a third facet to his being. He is his own father.
So there's Bobby the father, Bobby the son and Bobby the Holy Spirit - three but also one, just like a Shamrock.
That's it for today. Enjoy the rest of the afternoon and remember, if Loretta says so - its Go Go Go!!
Loretta
