A selection from Wendy's latest postbag of angst

Dear Wendy,
Do you have any idea what time it is? About 5 weeks ago I put my watch on top of the TV set and turned it on whilst I fed the fish. Everything seemed normal until Uri Geller the cutlery bender came on, and suddenly the entire television completely exploded. Since the incident I have been constantly late for appointments, due to the resulting blindness and the plaster cast on my remaining leg, which prevents me from cycling to work. I am dictating this letter to Alice, my secretary, who was in another room at the time of the conflagration.

D.Pendulum
Warwickshire

WENDY WRITES
Dear Mr. Pendulum,
Five to three to be precise. Although by the time you read this, probably much later. Or a lot later

Dear Wendy,
I recently borrowed my boyfriend's shell-suit. Whilst I was wearing it, I found myself admiring the performance of Judy Garland in "The Wizard of Oz" - Does this mean I am gay?

Ireni Pavalove
Trumpton

WENDY WRITES,
Dear Ireni,
Almost certainly. But just to make sure, you can buy an inexpensive gay testing kit from any reputable pharmacy which should give you a result in 2-3 hours.

Dear Wendy,
I am an Episcopalian Methodist, whereas my husband is a Seventh Day Adventist. He is forbidden from wearing trousers when there is more than one "R" in the month, which conflicts with my belief that Jesus came down from the planet ZZlaaar to tell us to wear chunky gold crosses and stop shooting dolphins. Since we are planning a holiday in Acapulco next year, what do you suggest for beachwear?

Mavis Cattermole
Walberswick

WENDY WRITES
Dear Mavis,
1. Religion is bunkum. If your husband were a gentleman he would retain his trousers at all times, regardless of the number of "R"s in the month. Likewise, your Alien Jesus Bling convictions are most probably the result of a starch heavy diet, and are best kept under wraps.
2. Acapulco screams thong to me, but not if you have an arse like a slab of tripe
.

Dear Wendy,
I am to be a guest at the Lord Mayor's banquet, but I suffer from Turet's Syndrome fucking tits! ...Whilst not wishing to embarress myself in front of his worship the Lord...twat!....Mayor...wanker!...I  feel compelled to attend, owing to my position as fuckwit!.... press secretary to the shite!...town council, . Do you have any piss off!...advice which could alleviate my....hairy .arseholes! Twat bollocks shithead!......dillemma?

Emma Fuck it! Harbunkle
Fuckfield

WENDY WRITES,
Dear Emma,

Goodness! I haven't heard that much swearing since my first husband was stung on the penis by a wasp. My solution is simple. Have your dentist wire up your jaw, and take along a professional ventriloquist as your escort. Merely reciting "Peter Piper" or saying "Gottle o' geer" all the time however, is no substitute for cultured conversation,  so make sure he's got a couple of O levels. My website www.wendysworld.com provides a list of cultured and discreet ventriloquist services catering for the tongue tied or compulsively sweary.

Dear Wendy,
I recently received an invitation to be best man at a cousin's wedding, but due to a badly adjusted bicycle saddle I have extremely swollen testicles. The left one is about twice it's normal size, but the right one has assumed gargantuan proportions, and resembles a huge mis-shapen celeriac. I feel that wearing enormous trousers would give the game away. Do you have any suggestions?

John Bisquit
Upper Dicker

WENDY WRITES,
Dear John,
Don't panic. Put them in a wheelbarrow and tell everyone you've gone organic. Should guests attempt to squeeze your produce, say you are a government GM scientist and make a noise like a chicken.

Dear Wendy,
Re the above letter.
Turet's syndrome is an essentially verbal affliction, and does not manifest itself when the sufferer is writing. This letter is clearly made up by your editorial department in an attempt to extract cheap humour out of an unfortunate condition. I myself am a Turet's sufferer, and as you can see, I am not predisposed to inserting random rude exclamations into my sentences, with no regard for the rules of grammar or syntax. Please desist forthwith, should you wish to prevent me from cancelling my subscription.

R. Seoul (Dr)
Penis and address witheld by request

WENDY WRITES,
Dear Dr.Seoul,
Nobody likes a smartarse. As a matter of fact, Inspector Clouseau, the letter you refer to was dictated via our voicemail, and severely edited on the grounds of decency and good taste. Stick your subscription up your arse. (better leave that last bit out-ed)

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email all your problems to Wendy and let her run her typewriter through your hair. As you float away to nirvana on a big riverboat you'll hear louis armstrong singing what a wonderful world while you dine in luxurious splendour at the club d'amour d'arthur sur la plage right in the centre of Blackpool's Famous Golden Mile

wendy@ukbop.com