Uncle Drago's agony column

[Toshiba Boy]

Read Ogard

I peek gniod gnihtyreve sdrawkcab!

Siht si ylralucitrap drawkwa nehw ti semoc ot eht moordeb tnemtraped.

Pleh!

Host Yob

 

[Drago]

Read Ogard

I peek gniod gnihtyreve sdrawkcab!

Siht si ylralucitrap drawkwa nehw ti semoc ot eht moordeb tnemtraped.

Pleh!

Host Yob

Dear Whatever your name is,

You appear to have the famous disease, bacterious-lyingbarstewarditis.

This is a nasty infection thar spreads among politicians. It causes them to promise one thing, only to backtrack when they realise it might cost them votes. Too much of this behaviour becomes i geained anr they dtart doubg dferyrhing backwwrds.

The only cure is to be caught fiddling expenses and imprisoned, which is the preferred treatment of Labour carriers of the virus.

Conservatives with the virus prefer to deal with the infection by taking large backhanders in exchange for North Sea oil licences. This doesn't actually cure the illness, but the inexhaustible supply of call girls and cocaine this allows at least keeps the pain to bearable levels.

 

[stephec]

Dear Uncle D

All this talk of hoovers and vegetables has got 'my mate' wondering.

He's asked if the staff in A&E would still belive his story about slipping in the vegetable garden whilst only wearing his dressing gown if they found that the carrot had been washed and peeled?

 

[Drago]

Dear Uncle D

All this talk of hoovers and vegetables has got 'my mate' wondering.

He's asked if the staff in A&E would still belive his story about slipping in the vegetable garden whilst only wearing his dressing gown if they found that the carrot had been washed and peeled?

Dear Stephanie,

Sadly, It's is doubtful. A three foot long aubergine stuck down the urethra is not going to be explained by taking a fall while naked.

His best chance of convincing them is to say it was either for a bet, or else simply fess up that he's a kinky sod and was having a J. Arthur Rank.

 

[tyred]

Dear Drago,

I have a hellish hangover. I also had some weird nightmare.

I enjoy a few drops of the fruit of barley on market days with my cronie, Souter Johnny. Sitting by the ingle in our favourite watering hole, we had finished the bottle of Bells and moved on to the Grouse and my recollection becomes a bit hazy after that. I jist ken my wife, Kate, wasnae best pleased we me.

I then woke up wi' a terrible headache and in a cauld sweat. I had an awffy nightmare. I dreamt the de'il was playing the bagpipes in the auld Kirk and witches were dancing to it. The witches frightened my mare and chased us ower the Brig o'Doon and I fell and they pulled aff poor Maggie's tail and just left her wae a stump. I ended up in hell and got roasted like a herring.

This nightmare really put the fear o' God intae me and I wonder if there is a hidden meaning or should I give up the drink?

Yours faithfully,
Mr. Tam o' Shanter,
Alloway.

 

[Drago]

Dear Tom,

It wasn't a dream, you pithed up old git.

You were blowing on Jock O'Malley's sporran and fingerings a tune on his you know what.

 

[Dave7]

Dear Sir Drago (I address you as such as I fully expect you to be knighted for services to humanity).....I wish to keep you updated with my erhh delicate problem.
I still allow my todger to be cleansed by my Henry vacuum cleaner.
I manage to keep it to twice a day, 3 times maximum.
I have noticed some changes to my anatomy in that I now find I am either standing on my todger or tripping over it.
Also, I am sure that my Henry has a rather big smile.
So......should I be worried by these changes or just embrace them as part of life's rich tappestry ?
I await your words of wisdom.

 

[Drago]

Dear Mavis,

I would be very worried indeed. Your vacuum cleaner just posted this on Facebook.

 

[Sterlo]

You're soon going to hear the squeak of tiny wheels

 

[Yellow Fang]

Dear Uncle Drago,
Can you tell Wulfgar and Henrik to stop hurting my feelings. They tell me my raping and pillaging is pathetic. I don't mind a bit of rape and pillage, but not all the time. At dawn this morning I just did not feel 100% It was a windy last night and the sea was rough. I had a bit of a headache and an upset stomach and just didn't feel like it. I just wanted to go back to the longboat and have a lie down. Of course Wulfgar and Henrik told me that I was a big girl's blouse, a disgrace to the Vanir, and that even a Saxon eunuch monk would have more balls than me. It was very hurtful. I am still waiting for them to apologise.

 

[Drago]

Dear Hagar,

I'm afraid I can't help you, not since the English King chopped off my hand for letting Ernest Borgnine die like a true Viking.

 

[Yellow Fang]

Dear Uncle Drago,
I am the mother superior of the Carmelite convent in Normandy. Our lives are dedicated to the devotion of God. We get up early for matins, the first of our daily prayers. After cleaning the convent we break fast together. We then set about our daily duties. Attending the crops, cooking, weaving, more praying and hymn singing. You get the picture. Our lives are simple and secluded. The only man we see is the priest and confessor. I am trying to get across the message, in not as many words, that I want to rattle his bones, but he is very slow in the uptake. At my last confession I confessed that I was having impure thoughts about a man. There are no other men around here. Who did he think I was referring to? He just told me to say five Hail Marys. Should I be more explicit about the erotic fantasies I have about him? I have to be careful. I might lose my position here. It would be alright if I was a lesbian like some of the other nuns.

 

[Toshiba Boy]

Dearest Greatest Uncle Drago

Please help. I keep trying to take THE perfect family photograph to hang up in one of the palaces, don't you know.

However, we keep looking like a bunch of inbreds, from the likes of deepest, darkest Northants.

My attempts at this "photoshopping" malarkey, just aren't working, despite the best attempts to help me from the Senior Maid, Butler, First Footman, Second Footman, Police Bodyguard, Head Gardener, BBC Royal Correspondent, and Prince Andrew.

Your undoubted skills in this area are desperately required, I have eight newspaper front pages to fill by 11 O'clock tonight!

Princess Tosh

 

[tyred]

Dear M. Drago,

Just recently, I have been suffering from a sore neck.

Do you have any idea how I could stop my neck from hurting?

À bientôt
Louis Bourbon XVI
Palace of Versailles

 

[Drago]

Dear Uncle Drago,
I am the mother superior of the Carmelite convent in Normandy. Our lives are dedicated to the devotion of God. We get up early for matins, the first of our daily prayers. After cleaning the convent we have breakfast together. We then set about our daily duties. Attending the crops, cooking, weaving, more praying and hymn singing. You get the picture. Our lives are simple and secluded. The only man we see is the priest and confessor. I am trying to get across the message, in not as many words, that I want to rattle his bones, but he is very slow in the uptake. At my last confession I confessed that I was having impure thoughts about a man. There are no other men around here. Who did he think I was referring to? He just told me to say five Hail Marys. Should I be more explicit about the erotic fantasies I have about him? I have to be careful. I might lose my position here. It would be alright if I was a lesbian like some of the other nuns.

Dear Judy's Priest,

Please be careful, because you're breaking the law, breaking the law.

Dearest Greatest Uncle Drago

Please help. I keep trying to take THE perfect family photograph to hang up in one of the palaces, don't you know.

However, we keep looking like a bunch of inbreds, from the likes of deepest, darkest Northants.

My attempts at this "photoshopping" malarkey, just aren't working, despite the best attempts to help me from the Senior Maid, Butler, First Footman, Second Footman, Police Bodyguard, Head Gardener, BBC Royal Correspondent, and Prince Andrew.

Your undoubted skills in this area are desperately required, I have eight newspaper front pages to fill by 11 O'clock tonight!

Princess Tosh

Dear Princess hottie,

Get your nicks off, I'll be round in 5 with my box brownie. And my camera.

Dear M. Drago,

Just recently, I have been suffering from a sore neck.

Do you have any idea how I could stop my neck from hurting?

À bientôt
Louis Bourbon XVI
Palace of Versailles

Dear Lewis,

Let your peasants eat cake and they'll be too fat, bloated, and riddled with cholesterol to further harm your kingly appendage.