You’ve got to sand it to him
Aunty Bill
Several days ago I met a lovely man at the Bingo. He sat with me as I played and was thrilled when I shouted “House” in my first game!
I won two hundred pounds as well!
He told me he loved me and asked me if I could lend him the £200 so he could buy some sand. I loved him and did so. He promised me that he would pay me back the next day and also give me some sand as a keep sake.
I haven’t heard from him. Do you think I have lost him? Do you want some sand?
Wilma, Portland
AB replies;
Dear Wilma,
It looks like you’ve been a victim of the notorious”Bingo Bob”.
Bob preys on women like yourself who frequent Bingo Halls to fuel his lust for sand.
Sharp, Coarse or Fine, it’s all the same to him. He has an insatiable lust for the stuff.
When he’s got enough sand together (a hippo sized bag should suffice for his twisted needs) he creeps, yes creeps, under the cover of darkness to the beach and spends the rest of the night building phallic symbols (rather poor efforts I must admit, he sent me some pictures).
Then he buries himself adjacent to his efforts to wait for sunrise and the looks of horror and disgust on the faces of those early morning beach goers as they feast their eyes on his depraved sculptures.
You’ve had a close call Wilma. Try to forget all about it and hand your evidence to the Police.
Regards
Aunty Bill
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