Uncle Drago's agony column

[Drago]

Dear Tricyclenob,

I understand that some people call you the space cowboy, that you wre only 24 hours from Tulsa, and we will find you down in the country.

 

[classic33]

Dear Tricyclenob,

I understand that some people call you the space cowboy, that you wre only 24 hours from Tulsa, and we will find you down in the country.

Only if the country roads do lead him home.

 

[Drago]

He was in his way home, but now he's torn and twisted at the foot of a burning bike.

 

[Toshiba Boy]

Dear Uncle Dragon

Living down 'ere in very rural West Zummerzet nowadays, the local demographics have given me a brilliant idea for a spin off series to the very popular (according to my wife and all the ladies at work) "Married at First Sight" series.

Set down 'ere on the lower slopes of Exmoor, with weddings set under the cool shade of a local cider orchard, ...... "Married me First Cousin"

Brand new combine harvesters and 40 acres of farmland could, of course, be built into the storyline.

What do you think Unk?

Wurzel Tosh

 

[Drago]

Dear Hazel,

stop waiting my time, you drunkard. We all know you are a cider drinker, and you drinks the cider all day.

 

[Yellow Fang]

Dear Uncle Drago,
There's this chap at work who is getting up my nose a bit. Technically, he is my superior officer, and he is well in with the Captain. Thick as thieves they are. I know he's dead clever and all, but I wish he would keep to his own job. He's Science Officer, I'm Chief Engineer. Hence my Scottish accent. It's my job to oil the dilithium crystals and replace the thrown pistons. What do you think it looks like whenever there is an breakdown when the Science Officer pops around and fixes it? Not good. Next time I am on transporter duty I might accidentally transport him into deep space, or the mouth of a volcano, or maybe into a black hole. I will blame a tribble.

 

[Drago]

Dear Snotty,

You are the architect of your own downfall. You're too efficient, too eager to please.

You need to set expectations, make them think every job is a real humdinger, then when you manage to pull it off you'll seem like a miracle worker. Just walk about shouting "'I cannae change the laws o' physics!" to make the point.

And remember - you wesr a red shirt, so careful where you beam down.

Love,

Noonien Singh Drago.

 

[tyred]

Dear Drago,

I cut quite a dash when I cruise around town in my Capri 1.6L with red stripes, leopard-skin seat covers and furry dice. The girls really take notice of me.

Unfortunately, I was turning it up and my wig fell and got wrapped around the fanbelt. I instinctively looked down at where it had fallen to see if I could rescue it and my medallion got caught in the fan as I leaned over the engine. This caused the fan blades to break and one piece was flung through the radiator and hit me in the nuts and I got scalded from the spray of hot coolant.

Now with my medallion mangled, my car broken and my blonde wig all stretched and covered in black rubber marks from the belt. I can't walk normally due to being hit in the privates by the fan and my legs being burnt.

How can I get my confidence back so I can impress the girls again?

Thank you so much,
Trev

 

[Drago]

Dear Bev,

Medallion. Capri. Chest wig. You car clearly a man of sublime 70s style and substance.

I think you should start in hospital. Tell the nurses you are in the SAS and obtained your injuries while working under cover in a Red Army Faction puppy and orphan farm. They'll be stripping off their uniforms and giving you a bed bath before you can say, "oo-er Matron!"

 

[stephec]

Dear Uncle D

If Tesla drivers are the planet saving, tree hugging, green gods that they'd have us believe then why do they insist on always blasting off the lights as fast as possible, using twice as much electricity as they actually need?

 

[Drago]

Dear Strepsil,

This because the cars come now a special P mode. If another car pulls up alongside a speak in the wheel mimics Elon's voice and shouts, "oil, pedo guy!", before automatically engaging drive and zipping away as quickly as possible to avoid a law suit.

Switching the function off is possible, but requires the driver to buy Twitter first.

 

[Yellow Fang]

Dear Snotty,

You are the architect of your own downfall. You're too efficient, too eager to please.

You need to set expectations, make them think every job is a real humdinger, then when you manage to pull it off you'll seem like a miracle worker. Just walk about shouting "'I cannae change the laws o' physics!" to make the point.

And remember - you wesr a red shirt, so careful where you beam down.

Love,

Noonien Singh Drago.

It's because of my red shirt I usually stay behind to mind the shop while the Captain and his chums go sightseeing. I often think about setting a course for the Ursa Minor pleasure planet complex, but Lieutenant Uhuru won't let me. I don't know why.

 

[Drago]

It's because of my red shirt I usually stay behind to mind the shop while the Captain and his chums go sightseeing. I often think about setting a course for the Ursa Minor pleasure planet complex, but Lieutenant Uhuru won't let me. I don't know why.

Dear certain death in the very near future guy,

I would suggest a transfer to the science division. You can use the ships sensors to snoop at the nurses flats opposite Starfleet HQ.

 

[tyred]

Dear Dragon,

Why does no-one laugh at my jokes?

Yours faithfully,
J. Davidson

 

[Drago]

Dear Dragon,

Why does no-one laugh at my jokes?

Yours faithfully,
J. Davidson

Dear Russel Brand...