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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Here To Help – Here To Care

The Milk Of Human Kindness

Aunty Bill,

My mum sold me to the milkman in order to buy a shoe horn the other week.

Do you think she is trying to tell me something? I weigh 87 stone and recently ate our roof by mistake. It made a healthy alternative to cheese in a sandwich.

Yvonne, Winchester

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Yvonne

The shoehorn is merely a metaphor for shoe horning you out of the door and out of her life (although at 87 stone she’s got a job on her hands and will need a bigger horn or lots of smaller ones).

At least she sold you to a milkman.

Milkmen (and women) have over the years demonstrated a deep affection for fat people. Before the days of the milkfloat, they could be seen across Britain pulling the wagon while milkmen jumped on and off delivering the nation’s favourite drink.

Hopefully he will put you to work and you’ll see the pounds fall away and be in a position to replace the roof over you dear old mum’s head which you so thoughtlessly ate.

Chink! Chink!

AB

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Aunty Bill - A Tin Opener Short

Here To Help – Here To Care

Pond Love

Help Aunty Bill!

I am in love with my neighbour’s goldfish pond. It is on two levels and has a nice water feature in the centre (a fountain of Elvis doing the splits). I asked my neighbour if I could take the pond out for a fish supper. He slammed the door in my face and last night firebombed my shed.

How can I get him to see that I really love his pond?

Dai, Rhonnda

Aunty Bill Replies;

Hi Dai,

Just when you think everything’s been covered, up you pop!

Water Feature love isn’t as unusual as you might think. A cousin of mine once had a torrid affair with a friend’s garden sprinkler. Only at night though. There was a hose pipe ban at the time,

I’m not surprised you’ve fallen for your neighbour’s water feature.

Demonstrate your love for this pond by embarking on an extensive cleaning, fish feeding and water filtration procedures. A few weeks of intensive pond maintenance should show that your intentions are honourable.

If this fails, then seek revenge for your shed. You will need the following :

A 12″ gauge shot gun

1 gallon of petrol

1 bucket of bleach

Some gloves

I leave the rest to you – you know what you have to do.

TTFN

Aunty Bill

 

 

 

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OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

Aunty Bill,

Last night my partner told me he had fallen in love with the back door. This morning I awoke to find my partner gone and just a draught where the back door used to be.

There was a note on the table, presumably written by the back door as my partner is illiterate. The note said, “One day you will find closure.”

Not only am I heartbroken I am freezing. How do I win them back?

Meredith, Ottawa

Aunty Bill Replies;

Dear Meredith,

You don’t state in your letter whether the door was UPVC or standard wooden half Georgian wired glass.

At this troubled time you probably wonder why I am asking what type of door it was, but in the days ahead, when a window of clarity appears you will have to think about a replacement door and depending on the type that ran off with your (ex) partner this will dictate what type of frame, lock and extra security you require.

I always recommend a standard 5 lever bolt lock (ISO234567) is fitted where the door is UPVC, although for a wooden door an Ingeroll Chubb and separate mortice should suffice. Be sure to allow for the stress factor on wooden doors and if in doubt fix an extra hinge to allow for any slippage.

Experience dictates that men who run off with doors seldom return. At this point I could make a cheap jibe about knockers. But won’t.

Aunty Bill

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Vermeer_The_Girl_With_The_Pearl_Earring_(1665) copy

Hello Aunty;

Several days ago I discovered that my man was cheating on me with a foot pump. Ever since I have felt very deflated.

Is there anything I can do?

Wendy, Bolton

Dear Wendy,

Men are creatures of habit and it may well be that you haven’t been paying him full attention, hence his preoccupation with matters of the motoring kind.

If he’s feeling under pressure at work or home he needs a release valve and seems to have found it in the boot of his car. Tread carefully but you need to get to the hub of the problem before it escalates. Perhaps he’s tired of the domestic routine although it’s too early to gauge.

Without wishing to put a spanner in the works I suggest that if you spoke to him about your concerns he may well realise the error of his ways and realise he has been acting a bit nuts. With a little effort you may be able to repair this relationship without puncturing his hopes for the future.

Just be thankful it’s a foot pump and not one of the flash ones down the local petrol station. Although you have to pay to use them, the hoses are so much longer and once it gets going the vibration is something else!

Aunty

 

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Hello Oily,

My boyfriend has taken to ironing his scrotum.

Luckily this is after he’s finished his smalls. Apart from singeing around the pubic area and agonised cries of pain, are there any health issues to consider?

I must say a smooth, crease free sac is a turn on!

Debbie, Nazeing
Oily Replies;
Debs,
Any health issues? Woman are you insane?
Those once crunchy nuts will be flat as a pancake. Is that what you want….cos that’s what will ‘appen! He should do what I do, hang them out on the clothes line to dry naturally.
Admittedly the weather where I am in Sham City is much more conducive to open air drying. Plus people here are used to seeing others “bits” hanging out left, right and centre although admittedly they don’t usually look as battered bruised swollen and misshapen as mine.
The current tender state of said bits is due to a recent Neighbourhood Watch meeting I attended. I appear to have got the wrong end of somebody’s stick. I was told in no uncertain terms that you cannot pick and choose the neighbour you wish to watch. Voyeurism is not on the menu. In that case count me out.

Oily

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Blair-Witch

Hello Aunty

I learned a new word today. Tuesday.

This means that my week is now four days long. Wednesday, Saturday, Monday and now Tuesday. What can I do to fill my time on Tuesdays? The other days of the week I dribble and wet myself.

Damp Dave, The Thickest Man On Earth

Dear Dave

The days missing are Thursday, Friday and Sunday. Learn these by heart as it will make your week complete.

Spend Thursday cleaning up Monday and Wednesday’s dribble and wee in preparation for another bout of bodily leakage, although now you have Tuesday you have the option of option of either cleaning up Monday’s mess or having another day to sit in a mire of your own making on Tuesday and Wednesday and having a bloody big clean up on Thursday (see above for the new days added to your week).

I would advise against this. Best to try and hold back on Tuesday and then have a good tidy up on Wednesday (confusing isn’t it?)

This leaves Thursday free to go to the Job Centre to look for some kind of gainful employment, although I see few openings.

Friday – feel free to either scan the local paper for supplies of Cosifits or revert to type in preparation for the Saturday clean up.

Sunday, if you can control your bowels, visit the local museum to see how your ancestors lived.

Yes Dave they lived just like you although at least they had the get up and go to throw their excretia out of the window into the street below (this may be an option for you in order to avoid your interminable cleaning detail).

Sunday evening settle down in front of “Call the Midwife a Twat” and feel free to wee and dribble to you heart’s content. This  programme has a similar effect on millions of people across the country as they prepare for another week of toil.

At least you’ve got Monday to clean up Dave, eh?

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Shifting over in the bed.
Waking at
My usual time to wake
Minutes before the alarm sounds.
I laugh at the lonely
Silliness,
Of my being pleased
That I can turn on the other lamp with a toe
My left big toe.
It has taken these years
To shift from having
Had
A
‘My side of the bed’
But I navigate around
These various double beds
Painters long since slipped
Still a deep sleeper
But wandering now
From clinging to the
Ribbing at the side
Of a queen-sized mattress
In the company of
Her
Her of splendid isolation
To now
To all the kingdoms
And beyond
As there’s no one there to wake to.
If there were to be
It’d be a pretty pass
To wake a sleeping lover with a big toe in her gob
(Still?
….horses for courses…)
As I swing to turn on their lamp
I can imagine lights being put out for less.

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