Uncle Drago's agony column

[Drago]

Dear Uncle Drago,

I have decided to take up the French horn. I was sitting on the doorstep practicing and the neighbour threw and apple and hit me on the head. I think this is outrageous.

The good news is that I managed to smooth it over with that woman up the road and we went out for a drive in my Daihatsu Applause. I even prepared a picnic with corned beef sandwiches.

We were cruising along and all was going well until the stereo decided to chew up my favourite Showaddywaddy tape. I was just trying to rescue it from the machine and I was distracted and never noticed the speed ramp. I hit it a bit too hard and we were launched into the air.

By sheer bad luck, there happened to be an army convoy coming in the opposite direction and we landed on top of an army Land Rover.

Now we've been arrested on some stupid terrorism charge. My Daihatsu and my Showaddywaddy tape are ruined and we are waiting to be interviewed by someone called Captain Mainwaring.

How can I get out of this mess and repair my tape and my beloved car?

Yours faithfully,
Aubrey

Dear Australian,

Getting the horn in France is nefer a good idea. No wonder les gendarmes are upset with you. Probably best to make a full confession to buy you time, and see if you can recall any of the escape attempts from Papillon.

It might be bedt to forget the Daihatsu for now. By the time youfe escaped youll be too weak to efen lift an 8 track cartridge, never mind handle the mighty power of that 1 litre engine .

Dear Deidre.
Please help me. My sexy 20 year old neighbour was sunbathing the other day. I took the chance to peek out of our bathroom window and have a cheeky glance. As I turned around and my wife was standing there arms folded watching me.

Is my wife a peeping tom?

Yours Sincerely
Bashful.

Dear Boastful,

Yes, your Wife's name is Tom and she was standing up to have a wee when you interrupted her.

 

[Gwylan]

I've been away on a fully catered government holiday event.
What's happened to the Mundane thread?

 

[Drago]

I've been away on a fully catered government holiday event.
What's happened to the Mundane thread?

A lot of prison sex, violence, and silent farts. The usual.

 

[DCLane]

I've been away on a fully catered government holiday event.
What's happened to the Mundane thread?

That could be anything from a diplomatic trade fair to a stint in the clink

 

[alicat]

Dear Uncle Drago

This thread is making me laugh so much that I'm no longer in agony.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely

WaitingforaMrUtocutmyheadopenwithaB&D

 

[Drago]

Dear Uncle Drago

This thread is making me laugh so much that I'm no longer in agony.

Thank you.

Yours sincerely

WaitingforaMrUtocutmyheadopenwithaB&D

Dear Sallyrat,

I've a letter in my mailbox from a surgeon in Staffordshire. Something about being a raging alky and needing help woth the shakes.

 

[alicat]

Dear Sallyrat,

I've a letter in my mailbox from a surgeon in Staffordshire. Something about being a raging alky and needing help woth the shakes.

Dear Uncle Drago,

I'm relieved that the letter that you received was from an alky in Staffs because my surgeon is at the QE (nothing but the best for me) and I would put money on him being a Muslim. Therefore and inshallah if he is an alky he will be practised at keeping it hidden . 🤞

 

[classic33]

Dear Uncle Drago

I come to you in a state of financial panic so dramatic that even my houseplants have started looking concerned. I am thinking about taking up cycling — a wholesome, breezy, eco‑friendly hobby — and yet every time I look at the price of a bike, my wallet makes a noise like a dying accordion.

People keep telling me cycling is cheap. “Oh, it costs nothing!” they say, as they glide past me on bikes that appear to be made of space‑age alloys and smugness. Meanwhile, I’m Googling “bicycle under £20” and being shown children’s tricycles and suspiciously shiny contraptions that look like they were assembled in a shed by raccoons.

And it’s not just the bike. Oh no. There’s the helmet (apparently my head is worth protecting), the lights (so I don’t get flattened), the lock (so the bike doesn’t get stolen by someone who can afford cycling), and the waterproofs (because rain has the personality of a vengeful deity).

By the time I add it all up, I’m convinced I could buy a small second‑hand car for the same price — or at least a very determined donkey.

Am I doomed to remain a pedestrian forever, or is there a secret society of budget cyclists who know where the cheap stuff is? Please advise before I start strapping wheels to a dining chair and calling it innovation.

Yours in financial despair,
A Penny‑Pinching Pedaller‑To‑Be

 

[Drago]

Dear Lance,

Perhaps you should move to London. There one doesn't need to purchase a bike - one needs only hack a Lime Bike and ride for free,

As an added bonus, you can practice your opera si ginger to disghisenthe beeping of the alarm. Youll doubtless be talent spotted in no time, given a job as the lead in Les Mis, whereupon youll be able to finally afford a velocipede!

 

[classic33]

Dear Uncle D

I write to you with a heart so dramatically shattered that even the neighbour’s cat has started leaving sympathy biscuits at my door. My beloved — the one I was certain would be mine forever — has cruelly, outrageously, and without warning… fallen in love with someone else.

And not just anyone. Oh no. They have chosen Aubrey. A man who wears socks with pictures of sandwiches on them and once tried to microwave a fork. How am I supposed to compete with that level of chaotic charisma

I tried everything. I attempted mysterious brooding (but only succeeded in looking constipated). I attempted casual charm (but spilled tea down myself). I even attempted poetry, but my rhyming dictionary betrayed me and insisted that “love” should be paired with “dove”, “glove”, or “shove”, none of which helped my case.

Now I wander the streets around their house like a tragic Victorian ghost, sighing loudly and hoping someone will ask what’s wrong so I can dramatically say, “My heart… my poor heart…”

How do I recover from being replaced by a man who once lost a fight with a revolving door

Please help before I start writing sonnets to my kettle out of sheer emotional confusion.

Yours in melodramatic misery,
A Lovelorn Lunatic

 

[Drago]

Dear Lovelace,

Deary me, you are in a bad plade if a loser like that has stolen your bird right out from under your nose.

What to suggest? Tricky, as you'll never bret him outright for her affections. I mean, the guy is a musician you know. He plays the pink oboe! You can't beat that.

Probably time for something really dastardly...such as framing him for a serious crime to get him out the way, leaving the field clear for you to swoop in on your new Honda Camino and sweep her off her size 11s.