This week: Pet Hates 2

I hate the fact I can’t tell the difference between ‘Real or Surreal’. The other day I was having sex in a field by myself. Suddenly, I noticed there were crop circles appearing in my pubic hair. On closer inspection it was only some sad bastard imitating the effect of UFO art by clopping about in my foliage using a piece of floorboard and some rope attached as a stirrup. What was the result? An intricate design of geometry and a stranger in my bush waiting for sun-up. Not to mention the threat of an approaching combine harvester and splinters in my clit. Amanda Shagg

Dr F: Yes, you probably think The Reformation was ‘Take That’ getting back together. What a caution you are! If we were supposed to know the difference between real or surreal, I’d wager none of us would ever bother buying a readymade microwave meal again.

I hate the indelicate pharmacist who asks you if you have anal parasites or vaginal thrush over a loudspeaker system, making you take cover for a prescription. Ivor Nitch

Dr F: There is a remedy for ignorant pharmacists. Wear a toilet roll on a piece of string around your neck. They will still embarrass you in front of the queue but at least you will get served quicker.

I hate projectile vomiting at job interviews. How can I hope to be sure my résumé is read when it’s already covered in my own handy ectoplasm? Ralph Groog

Dr F: One would assume that the contents of your stomach would show the interviewer exactly what kind of person you are inside, winning you the post. If not, just poop in the shredder to make sure.

I hate having panic attacks. Last night I was cheating on my husband in a tower block in a rather insalubrious part of the neighbourhood. My husband burst through the door as I was enjoying the jousts of Venus with a group of glue-sniffers in a lift. He said he was leaving me and had already torched our country house, shot the chauffeur, sunk the yacht and sold our teenage daughter to an Arab sheik for a camel. My heart started to pound. My head was fit to burst. I was having another attack. You would think after 25 years of marriage he would know what brand of cigarette I prefer by now? Sheila Gotmagoat

Dr F: The thoughtless hound. On the upside I suppose it was good fortune he offloaded your daughter with comparative ease.  Incidentally, Hilary Lesley Horace Samantha Smith, my daughter, joined a convent. I told the Mother Superior how odd for my daughter to become a nun as she always wanted to be a prostitute. The Mother Superior fainted with disbelief. I revived her and when she came around, she asked, “Sorry, but what did you say?” and I said. “My daughter said she always wanted to be a PROSTITUTE!!”The Mother Superior said “Thank feck for that.. I thought you said PROTESTANT!”

Now, look here. Panic attacks are for people who have nothing else to worry about. On the other hand I enjoy the odd Camel myself. It’s nice to feel their little butt between your fingers and gently suck, even if it does leave an aftertaste. That’s the trouble with Zoos - they don’t have a designated smoking area anymore. And even if they did, people would probably try to stick food through the bars and expect you to know how to peel a tangerine with your spare hand.

I hate searching for porn in internet cafes. There is never anywhere to draw the curtains. I’d do it in a state library but I don’t want the book thrown at me. Perry Graff

Dr F: Well. turn over a new leaf so we can both read from the same page. Librarians suffer in silence. I dated one once. She had it all. I cannot resist tortoiseshells tight-buns and twinsets. I was a bit drunk when I finally thumbed her glossary. All she did was punch my ticket and say ‘Shhhh’ a lot. She wanted commitment, which is a bit rich coming from her, as she works in a borrowing library. I haven’t seen her since. She must have been left on the shelf.

I’m a midwife. I have that Munch Trousers Syndrome. I hate the fact I can’t help deliberately giving the wrong babies back to the wrong mother just to see if they notice. Siobhan Fanny

Dr F: It’s easy to switch children. I do it at Hungry Horse pubs. The sign says,  ‘One Free coke for each child.’ Not a bad deal I’d say.

My babysitter and I fell in love and I don’t know how to tell my wife. I don’t know how to speak Latvian either. Shamus Awl

Dr F: Apart from the scandal in your cul-de-sac, have you no thought for the poor wee girl? She has come over from Eastern Europe to escape the prospect of being poverty stricken. To find sanctity, safety and solace, to run away from tyranny and the evils of a dictatorship, anarchy and the flagrant abuses of human rights and civil liberty. To flee from the ritual abuse of citizens by corrupt leaderships. To find refuge from discrimination, or suffer a sick economy and ill-funded resources. To take flight from crap wages, exploitation and polluted, ignorant or feebleminded politics

...only to end up here.

I hate frugal telepathic psychics who tell you what you might be thinking and before you have chance to speak at all say, “I told you so.” Luke Intamaize

Dr F: With telepathy it’s the thought that counts. Freak out your local psychic by smashing a baseball bat into his mouth while he's asleep in bed. I bet he will never see that coming.

see also Dr Farquar-Smith on: