How do I stop snoring? I’ve tried sleeping with a tennis ball sewn into my pyjamas and all my civil partner wants is to make a racket during a good service. Now the ball’s in your court. I’ve tried oral sex but I can’t breathe through my ears. Put the claw hammer down, Jeremy. Put it down and I’ll give you some M&S Fromage frais and a chance to watch the new Downton Abbey with our wedding snaps and a chocolate Wispa ? Homer Sexual
Dr F: Snoring isn't the problem in my bed. It's the disgusting smelly feet, sharp elbows, cold feet, seizures, sleep walking/talking, duvet dinners, clearing sinuses, scratching, foraging, burping, farting, poking, jabbing, unwanted erections, body odour, yeast infections, stray toenail clippings, thumb-sucking, crispy underwear and snotty tissues, dandruff of biblical proportions, stains on the mattress the size of South America, dead rodents with questionable discharge, military personnel already discharging on shore leave, siblings, parents, un-stored furniture, holiday vouchers, crockery, a canoe, dismantled lorry engines, cookery books, a horses head, the rest of the horse, a jockey, looking for his horse, astronauts, a small wooded area, train-spotters having sex with UFO researchers, Freemasons with cracked nipples because of sheep sucking on their tits, bewildered elderly couples, a salami strapped to a Marmoset monkey, a crate of Nesquik, two passes for a coffee morning at the "Purple Rinse and Surgical stockings for World Continence and Deaf Aid Society" for whist and ginger biscuits and ‘guess how many biopsies in the kidney dish’ competition, a bagel with a saveloy through it, inside the trousers of an Easy Jet cabin crew steward, a book of matches with the mobile phone number of a Ladyboy in Bankok, a ladyboy, his ladyboy mother and ladyboy Father and their young family of girlie-boys, an astonished train platform announcer, his tannoy or personal address system, his lunch consisting of corned beef with Branston 'Mighty White' sandwiches, thermos and a tangerine, a half sucked beer flavoured condom, a Greek restaurateur inside the condom, his set of car-keys to a 15 year old yellow Mercedes, broken down on a roundabout, a roundabout, RAC patrolman, carol singers when its Halloween, two bottles of cheap vodka being drunk by Eastern European Asian Algerian Geordie civil engineers from Cardiff, a kindle with '50 shades of grey' being read by a nuclear physicist wearing a white leather micro mini skirt squeezing a jam donut over his naked torso while parachuting over Wiltshire, a box of Tic Tacs that on closer inspection look like they have been used for deviant sexual practices involving shaven headed tattooed obese xenophobic Burger King patrons and geese, some roadkill dressed up in a Homebase uniform, a homebase assistant filling shelves in squashed, blood-soaked fur with a crow trying to peck his eyes out, an Irish curblayer with loose stools, Kate Perrys stamp collection, Cliff Richards catheter, a wastepaper basket with a traffic warden in it and some sensible shoes....oh, and a Liverpudlian janitor saying "Dey, doo doo dat doh, don't dee?"
The real trouble starts when I get this again and again as a recurring dream…zzzzzzzzzzzzzz