Sunday, 7 November 2010

7.11.10 Dear Deirdre

Here is the ultimate proof that the shit outlined on the problem page is bollocks.  The following is a word-for-word account of one exchange from yesterday's paper.  For the avoidance of doubt, my comments are in bold.

Q: My mate thinks she needs to go on a diet but she only weighs 7st.  How can I get her to understand she's not fat?  We're 16.
A: It sounds like a potential eating disorder. [ No shit Sherlock! ] Urge her to see her doctor for advice on healthy eating and contact Beat Youthline.  Riveting stuff, don't you think?  I realise Deirdre has employed technical know-how which surpasses that of Quincy and Petrocelli combined, but something tells me she's not had to put in too much effort here.

I reckon that I could quite easily provide a 'problem page' service, based on the useless fuckin' input from Dozy Deirdre.  If it is simply a case of stating the cuntin' obvious, I'd be fine.

Q: I'm not sure of the location for this diaphragm; what's the best place for it?
A: Cunt

Q: I'm two-timing my fiancee with a colleague at work, and feel guilty, but cannot stop.  What's your view?
A: You're a cunt

I think you get the idea, so I won't give any further examples.  Nevertheless, I maintain that I'm equally as qualified as Deirdre to give advice.

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