I began work on this book many years ago. Its aim was to inform and educate all you lovely people about the dangers of tea and the power it has over normal human skins. Thanks to my years working with media and stuff I was able to gain time with celebrities and get their harrowing stories about times tea made them invisible. My book, Can Tea Really Make You Invisible will be out later this year and will be available for all of you to read and suck protection from.
Prior to this I will be brining out a book containing all of the 'agony aunt' cases that I have dealt with. There will be updated advice added to each case and other interesting and useful facts that you can apply to your lives that will allow you to live a fuller and softer existence. You not only want a dog but want to be a dog? Well, leave that to me partner, you will get all the guidence I can muster in this book. Your panther is in a tree? I know just how to sort out that little issue.
For now, I will leave you with this bit of bible - Moses and Peter sat upon a yeasty log in a field by Sodom. 'Does thine friends wish that there was no ants?' asked Moses to his mate Pete. Pete convulsed violently as his face was swarmed to it's brim with ants and a rogue beatle/ladybird.
The advice you can take from this is - don't take logs for granted.
Love Zelda x
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Friday, 4 June 2010
Something in my head?
I am back with a vengeance and I hope you lovely readers are just as well as you were when I last wrote in this blog.
Today’s old and classic case, from 2006, is about a typical scenario that we have all found ourselves in. I have rewritten much of what is here so that it is how I originally wanted the advice and information to be passed on before it was so brutally chopped to pieces so that it did not offend the sensitive readers out there… and if any of you are offended I am sorry and perhaps you should go back to crying into your soft bible and praying to your big imaginary friend in the sky. Idiot.
My husband ‘Simply’ has made a full recovery from his illness he caught over Christmas. (update – I really wish he hadn’t the little magic fuck) The only side affect being that 90% of his meals now consist of Bamboo shoots and, if available, the odd crow and seagull. Doctors have said the bamboo cravings have arisen due to the Panda saliva he ingested over the festive period whilst playing card games and kissing the pandas full on, on the lips. Proper Frenching them like he wants to possibly try and mate with them. The same doctors are baffled by the desire to eat crows and seagulls.
My time in the lift (update – I was stuck in that God damn first lift on the right for weeks!) has limited my meetings with celebrities and has seriously hampered my ability to get much work done on my forthcoming book, Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? Last night, my first night back at home with ‘Simply’, Panda and Holly, the phone rang and when I picked up my ears collided with the sounds of Leo Sayer’s tiny little elf voice.
Leo wants to talk to me because word reached him from Vinnie Jones that I was writing a book about tea related anomalies. When I explained that I was mainly looking for invisibility or at least a story of slight transparency he told me that it was a real shame because he knew of another agony Aunt who was writing a book similar to mine called ‘Is Tea Magical?’ and that he had a very interesting story that was about him, his hair, tea and a few different cheeses.
When I asked Leo who this other Agony Aunt was that was writing a book about tea a reply met my ears that caused my blood to boil. Aunt Zara! This was the very same Zara that had taken my first husband, Rod Nolligan, away from me in 1990 and although I am happy enough with ‘Simply’ I will never forgive Zara for what she did, the scheming whore-bitch!
So, as of yesterday, my book has now got a new title, Can Tea Make You Invisible and other stuff? I intend to have the part of the title that says and other stuff in really small writing on the cover of the book. I will also still refer to the book as Can Tea really Make You Invisible?
I have accepted Leo’s arranged meeting and will be seeing him sometime next week.
This week sees the long awaited return to my duties as Agony Aunt for Gem. There have been millions of emails in my inbox and I have started to work my way through them. The one I have featured today was the first to hold my attention for more than 5 minutes though.
Dear Zelda,
First of all I would like to say a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and your family! I want to also thank you in advance for reading through my email to you as I bet you are extremely busy and drowning in emails.
I grew up with my younger brother in a small house in Glengormley (a Metropolis that has both a bowling ally and a KFC!) and enjoyed a simple and complacent existence. My parents both had excellent jobs at a local zoo and still work there today.
My life was pretty great except for my ears. They were long and flopped over my shoulders. My parents said that it was because they handled so many long eared beasts in the zoo but I thought it was much more sinister.
One day, on my 19th birthday actually, after my parents went to work, I headed to the zoo on my 50cc scooter and hid behind some shrubs, bins, sheds, rhinos and antelope. All the while watching my parents go about their duties. I was looking for clues as to why my ears were so long.
My dad walked towards the pterodactyl pen and began changing the cushions in the nest whilst my mum was in with the hippos, brushing their fur and milking their prostates. They did this all day. They did this every single day, their roles within the zoo never changing. This wasn’t a problem, at all. I liked the fact that my parents were beast handlers and I loved the fact that my dad worked with extinct animals. I suppose the problem was that I didn’t find an answer to my ear related question.
A few weeks ago, on my 25th birthday, I had an operation to reduce the size of my ears, or so I thought. I went into hospital and was taken to a room with walls covered in rubbish pictures of SuperTed, Batman, Slayer and the old family favourite of Bal Sagoth. Also in this room were children, the oldest being about 8 or 9. All of these children were breaking wind and it was making me feel sick.
My girlfriend soon left, laughter shooting from her face and lips, whilst I sat on my rubber mattress, the smell of spoilt ice-cream clogging the air. Surprisingly, I fell asleep and when I woke up one of my ear lobes was in the hands of a really tall and well built doctor, who was prodding at my ear with a slightly wet pen.
Not long after this intrusive prodding with a pen I was in the operating theatre, about to embark on a life with smaller ears. A huge needle was stuck into my arm and the last thing I remember was the consistent sound of wind being broken, cutting through the air of the ward like smelly blades.
I woke up. I had been unconscious for two whole days and as I raised my hands to feel my ears my fingers were met with cloth. My whole head was bandaged up like Mumra (but not Mumra The Ever Living, he had less bandages on) and in so much pain I could hardly move my eyes without squirming. The bandages still didn’t stop the flatulent sounds from bouncing off my ear drums. My girlfriend arrived shortly after I awoke and informed me that it was alright for me to go home
with her.
I had been home for a week, and only had another day to wait until I could unbound my head from it’s bandage prison. My lungs were so full of excitement that I began to tease myself by playing with the end of the bandage and popping a thumb inside. I kept imagining myself with my glorious, average sized ears and the rewards that I would reap.
That night I got into bed, prepared for a night of no sleep but surprisingly drifted off in seconds. The next morning I woke and made a grab for the material wrapped around my face but grasped facial cheek instead. The bandage had gone. I looked at my girlfriend but she was sleeping so it seemed unlikely she unwrapped my head. I checked my pillow. There was nothing there. Not a hint of material, in fact, not even the faintest hint of a pillow.
I walked to the bathroom and that was when I spotted my head. My ears looked good on the side of my head now but my head was bulging all over! How I hadn’t noticed this before I will never know but this was the way it was. My head didn’t feel any heavier, nor did I have any problems operating it.
I ran to my bedroom and woke my girlfriend with an accidental head butt to the chin. Her eyes flicked open and she began to laugh and scream at the same time. It wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for the day I unsheathed my lobes, which, I might add, were untouched by surgery of any kind!
It took a while for my girlfriend to get used to my new look and we soon found ourselves back in our usual routines. It was about this time I thought back to the bandages. My girlfriend had always insisted that she didn’t touch them. I never believed her until last week.
I had just stepped into my bath. The water was piping hot and the bubbles were plentiful. I slid down into the water, letting it engulf my face. A peculiar sound began to emerge from the around my face and when I sat up and opened my eyes, most of the bath water had gone. I peeked over the side of the bath to see if it had been dispersed by the girth of my inflated cranium and found that the floor was dry. Slightly scared, I walked uneasily to the mirror and gazed at my head, which snow appeared ever so slightly bigger. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a small piece of white near my ear and when I tugged at it I found it to be the bandage that had concealed my head after my so called operation. I discovered the bandage led into my ear and when I pulled on it again, it was wrenched from my hand and back into my head. I could hear a little giggle inside my skull and the sound of a bandage being coiled. I began to question my sanity and quickly took my mobile phone from my trousers on the floor and entered the number of a local psychiatrist that I knew. No sooner had I raised the phone to my head it was whisked out of my wet hand, through my ear and into my head.
Right away the phone in my living room started to ring. I staggered into the room, still a little damp, and answered the phone. I couldn’t believe it.
Zelda, please help, there is a troll living inside my head and it keeps steeling my possessions and phoning me! Last night he phoned my six times and then called me an idiot each time and hung up! What can I do!
Salvador Peanutskin
Dear Salvador,
Let me just set your mind at ease right away. The troll inside your head is a positive thing and is something that most people will have to live with at some stage in their life. The syndrome is not permanent nor will it be painful when the day comes for you to give birth to the head based troll. They can be slightly annoying at the adolescent stage which yours is at right now but this will only last a few more months.
Head-Trolls were first discovered in parts of Donegal and Milton Keynes back in 1996. The first documented Head-Troll was in the head of Patrick Moore, who as we all know is a gifted xylophone player. One night, during a gig in a pub in Ipswich, Moore picked his xylophone up, ready to smash it down in true rock-star fashion but it was taken from his hands. An audience of 8 totally drunk people watched as the musical instrument disappeared inside his head. They of course blamed the spectacle on the alcohol juices in their brain veins.
Not too long after this incident Patrick, having never looked at a book about moons, stars or even telescopes, went on to host his own television show full of really, really interesting things about our heavens. Where did this knowledge come from? I’ll tell you where; it came from the troll. Even after the trolls birth and exodus from the head, Patrick continued to gain more and more knowledge a
bout stars and moonbeams.
When the time comes the Head-Troll will emerge from your mouth in a shower of confetti and run away from you, never to be seen ever again. It will leave behind some knowledge about one of two things Space or Mammals. Sadly, you don’t get decide which.
The following is a few tips to help you look after the Head-Troll. I must state now that the troll will have been in your head before the hospital appointment to get your ears treated. They can’t be put into a head through any form of surgery, they merely decide on a cranium to inhabit and climb in. Right, here are those tips:
1) First of all - Don’t hold your head up to bright light. Head-Trolls hate that! Direct Sunlight for more than six hours will actually kill it and is also not very good for your skin.
2) Secondly - In some cases water combined with a Head-Troll has equalled strange results ranging from nothing at all right through to more spectacular cases where the Head-Troll multiplies! In future keep your head out of the bath! You were lucky this time.
3) Thirdly and most importantly of all – Never ever, no matter how much he begs, or how much he pleads, never ever put your head anywhere near the wheels of a moving train or the moving blades of a lawnmower.
Please follow the above tips and you should have no problems with your Head-Troll or as I like to call them, ‘Head-Gifts.’
As for your ears please contact the hospital, I am sure this was an administrative mistake. You can always go to your chemist and get that well known ointment ‘Ear-Away’ made by Heinz. They offer a six-month course of the cream and it is reasonably priced too. It will not cure you completely but it will take your ears away from your shoulders at least.
Take care and lots of love to you all,
Zelda
The births of Head-Trolls is usually painless but about 97% of people usually end up with either an inside out head or simply dead during labour.
Today’s old and classic case, from 2006, is about a typical scenario that we have all found ourselves in. I have rewritten much of what is here so that it is how I originally wanted the advice and information to be passed on before it was so brutally chopped to pieces so that it did not offend the sensitive readers out there… and if any of you are offended I am sorry and perhaps you should go back to crying into your soft bible and praying to your big imaginary friend in the sky. Idiot.
My husband ‘Simply’ has made a full recovery from his illness he caught over Christmas. (update – I really wish he hadn’t the little magic fuck) The only side affect being that 90% of his meals now consist of Bamboo shoots and, if available, the odd crow and seagull. Doctors have said the bamboo cravings have arisen due to the Panda saliva he ingested over the festive period whilst playing card games and kissing the pandas full on, on the lips. Proper Frenching them like he wants to possibly try and mate with them. The same doctors are baffled by the desire to eat crows and seagulls.
My time in the lift (update – I was stuck in that God damn first lift on the right for weeks!) has limited my meetings with celebrities and has seriously hampered my ability to get much work done on my forthcoming book, Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? Last night, my first night back at home with ‘Simply’, Panda and Holly, the phone rang and when I picked up my ears collided with the sounds of Leo Sayer’s tiny little elf voice.
Leo wants to talk to me because word reached him from Vinnie Jones that I was writing a book about tea related anomalies. When I explained that I was mainly looking for invisibility or at least a story of slight transparency he told me that it was a real shame because he knew of another agony Aunt who was writing a book similar to mine called ‘Is Tea Magical?’ and that he had a very interesting story that was about him, his hair, tea and a few different cheeses.
When I asked Leo who this other Agony Aunt was that was writing a book about tea a reply met my ears that caused my blood to boil. Aunt Zara! This was the very same Zara that had taken my first husband, Rod Nolligan, away from me in 1990 and although I am happy enough with ‘Simply’ I will never forgive Zara for what she did, the scheming whore-bitch!
So, as of yesterday, my book has now got a new title, Can Tea Make You Invisible and other stuff? I intend to have the part of the title that says and other stuff in really small writing on the cover of the book. I will also still refer to the book as Can Tea really Make You Invisible?
I have accepted Leo’s arranged meeting and will be seeing him sometime next week.
This week sees the long awaited return to my duties as Agony Aunt for Gem. There have been millions of emails in my inbox and I have started to work my way through them. The one I have featured today was the first to hold my attention for more than 5 minutes though.
Dear Zelda,
First of all I would like to say a belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and your family! I want to also thank you in advance for reading through my email to you as I bet you are extremely busy and drowning in emails.
I grew up with my younger brother in a small house in Glengormley (a Metropolis that has both a bowling ally and a KFC!) and enjoyed a simple and complacent existence. My parents both had excellent jobs at a local zoo and still work there today.
My life was pretty great except for my ears. They were long and flopped over my shoulders. My parents said that it was because they handled so many long eared beasts in the zoo but I thought it was much more sinister.One day, on my 19th birthday actually, after my parents went to work, I headed to the zoo on my 50cc scooter and hid behind some shrubs, bins, sheds, rhinos and antelope. All the while watching my parents go about their duties. I was looking for clues as to why my ears were so long.
My dad walked towards the pterodactyl pen and began changing the cushions in the nest whilst my mum was in with the hippos, brushing their fur and milking their prostates. They did this all day. They did this every single day, their roles within the zoo never changing. This wasn’t a problem, at all. I liked the fact that my parents were beast handlers and I loved the fact that my dad worked with extinct animals. I suppose the problem was that I didn’t find an answer to my ear related question.
A few weeks ago, on my 25th birthday, I had an operation to reduce the size of my ears, or so I thought. I went into hospital and was taken to a room with walls covered in rubbish pictures of SuperTed, Batman, Slayer and the old family favourite of Bal Sagoth. Also in this room were children, the oldest being about 8 or 9. All of these children were breaking wind and it was making me feel sick.
My girlfriend soon left, laughter shooting from her face and lips, whilst I sat on my rubber mattress, the smell of spoilt ice-cream clogging the air. Surprisingly, I fell asleep and when I woke up one of my ear lobes was in the hands of a really tall and well built doctor, who was prodding at my ear with a slightly wet pen.
Not long after this intrusive prodding with a pen I was in the operating theatre, about to embark on a life with smaller ears. A huge needle was stuck into my arm and the last thing I remember was the consistent sound of wind being broken, cutting through the air of the ward like smelly blades.
I woke up. I had been unconscious for two whole days and as I raised my hands to feel my ears my fingers were met with cloth. My whole head was bandaged up like Mumra (but not Mumra The Ever Living, he had less bandages on) and in so much pain I could hardly move my eyes without squirming. The bandages still didn’t stop the flatulent sounds from bouncing off my ear drums. My girlfriend arrived shortly after I awoke and informed me that it was alright for me to go home
with her.I had been home for a week, and only had another day to wait until I could unbound my head from it’s bandage prison. My lungs were so full of excitement that I began to tease myself by playing with the end of the bandage and popping a thumb inside. I kept imagining myself with my glorious, average sized ears and the rewards that I would reap.
That night I got into bed, prepared for a night of no sleep but surprisingly drifted off in seconds. The next morning I woke and made a grab for the material wrapped around my face but grasped facial cheek instead. The bandage had gone. I looked at my girlfriend but she was sleeping so it seemed unlikely she unwrapped my head. I checked my pillow. There was nothing there. Not a hint of material, in fact, not even the faintest hint of a pillow.
I walked to the bathroom and that was when I spotted my head. My ears looked good on the side of my head now but my head was bulging all over! How I hadn’t noticed this before I will never know but this was the way it was. My head didn’t feel any heavier, nor did I have any problems operating it.
I ran to my bedroom and woke my girlfriend with an accidental head butt to the chin. Her eyes flicked open and she began to laugh and scream at the same time. It wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for the day I unsheathed my lobes, which, I might add, were untouched by surgery of any kind!
It took a while for my girlfriend to get used to my new look and we soon found ourselves back in our usual routines. It was about this time I thought back to the bandages. My girlfriend had always insisted that she didn’t touch them. I never believed her until last week.
I had just stepped into my bath. The water was piping hot and the bubbles were plentiful. I slid down into the water, letting it engulf my face. A peculiar sound began to emerge from the around my face and when I sat up and opened my eyes, most of the bath water had gone. I peeked over the side of the bath to see if it had been dispersed by the girth of my inflated cranium and found that the floor was dry. Slightly scared, I walked uneasily to the mirror and gazed at my head, which snow appeared ever so slightly bigger. Out of the corner of my eye I spotted a small piece of white near my ear and when I tugged at it I found it to be the bandage that had concealed my head after my so called operation. I discovered the bandage led into my ear and when I pulled on it again, it was wrenched from my hand and back into my head. I could hear a little giggle inside my skull and the sound of a bandage being coiled. I began to question my sanity and quickly took my mobile phone from my trousers on the floor and entered the number of a local psychiatrist that I knew. No sooner had I raised the phone to my head it was whisked out of my wet hand, through my ear and into my head.
Right away the phone in my living room started to ring. I staggered into the room, still a little damp, and answered the phone. I couldn’t believe it.
Zelda, please help, there is a troll living inside my head and it keeps steeling my possessions and phoning me! Last night he phoned my six times and then called me an idiot each time and hung up! What can I do!
Salvador Peanutskin
Dear Salvador,
Let me just set your mind at ease right away. The troll inside your head is a positive thing and is something that most people will have to live with at some stage in their life. The syndrome is not permanent nor will it be painful when the day comes for you to give birth to the head based troll. They can be slightly annoying at the adolescent stage which yours is at right now but this will only last a few more months.
Head-Trolls were first discovered in parts of Donegal and Milton Keynes back in 1996. The first documented Head-Troll was in the head of Patrick Moore, who as we all know is a gifted xylophone player. One night, during a gig in a pub in Ipswich, Moore picked his xylophone up, ready to smash it down in true rock-star fashion but it was taken from his hands. An audience of 8 totally drunk people watched as the musical instrument disappeared inside his head. They of course blamed the spectacle on the alcohol juices in their brain veins.
Not too long after this incident Patrick, having never looked at a book about moons, stars or even telescopes, went on to host his own television show full of really, really interesting things about our heavens. Where did this knowledge come from? I’ll tell you where; it came from the troll. Even after the trolls birth and exodus from the head, Patrick continued to gain more and more knowledge a
bout stars and moonbeams.When the time comes the Head-Troll will emerge from your mouth in a shower of confetti and run away from you, never to be seen ever again. It will leave behind some knowledge about one of two things Space or Mammals. Sadly, you don’t get decide which.
The following is a few tips to help you look after the Head-Troll. I must state now that the troll will have been in your head before the hospital appointment to get your ears treated. They can’t be put into a head through any form of surgery, they merely decide on a cranium to inhabit and climb in. Right, here are those tips:
1) First of all - Don’t hold your head up to bright light. Head-Trolls hate that! Direct Sunlight for more than six hours will actually kill it and is also not very good for your skin.
2) Secondly - In some cases water combined with a Head-Troll has equalled strange results ranging from nothing at all right through to more spectacular cases where the Head-Troll multiplies! In future keep your head out of the bath! You were lucky this time.
3) Thirdly and most importantly of all – Never ever, no matter how much he begs, or how much he pleads, never ever put your head anywhere near the wheels of a moving train or the moving blades of a lawnmower.
Please follow the above tips and you should have no problems with your Head-Troll or as I like to call them, ‘Head-Gifts.’
As for your ears please contact the hospital, I am sure this was an administrative mistake. You can always go to your chemist and get that well known ointment ‘Ear-Away’ made by Heinz. They offer a six-month course of the cream and it is reasonably priced too. It will not cure you completely but it will take your ears away from your shoulders at least.
Take care and lots of love to you all,
Zelda
The births of Head-Trolls is usually painless but about 97% of people usually end up with either an inside out head or simply dead during labour.
Sunday, 9 May 2010
Alien Abduction Case
Hello there you lucky son of a bitch. I am not implying that your mother, or father, are or were bitches by the way, I am just using this as my opening today. I actually think you are nice. Nice and dog-like.
It is Sunday at the moment and as I write these words as an introduction to another ‘classic case’ I am thinking about friendship ladies and gentlemen. Times were different when I was involved in this alien abduction case. My husband was alive. He hadn’t slept with my mother (well, not that I was aware of) and the friends I made then were magical. They were and are what I call ‘lifers.’ You always know when the friend you have made is a ‘lifer.’ Maybe you are sitting in a dark night club, forcing in your 35th Pernod and Black and you look over at your friend and they are looking back at you and you both silently agree that it is best that you call an ambulance as you have both been vomiting blood for the past 30 minutes and your mini skirts are saturated. That there is a lifer. Maybe you have spent hours upon hours, fruitlessly plotting the next dimension in comedy and horror cinema w
ith a little Italian guy, tears squirting from your face as your ideas become increasingly inappropriate to the more fragile of idiots. Lifer. Maybe that lifer is a girl who shits through a hose as she has no anus and can make you laugh so much that you are close to touching cloth for the forth time that evening. Lifer. I have friends that I call lifers. Some are new but most are old. My ‘lifers’ know who they are – thanks for being there and being reliable and un-fickle, or un-superficial. Thanks for not being friends with my mother – I would consider that cheating and I would hate to think of you going from being a ‘lifer’ to a ‘deader’. I didn’t kill my husband by the way.
Friends are like roses...you have to look out for the pricks!
We all like sci-fi. We all like spooky aliens, so imagine my extreme chunky excitement when the following case smashed through my eyes!
Hello everyone and everyone else. I hope you are all in good health on this fine day. Well, my pet silverback gorilla, Holly, is having a great time with her six little babies and is really putting ‘Simply’ Gary to good use in the breast feeding department.
‘Simply’ Gary has actually moved out of our house and into Holly’s nest and will more than likely stay there for the next two weeks. After which the babies will be old enough to start their own businesses or travel the globe in search of treasure. Silverback gorillas LOVE treasure even more than Gandalf from Lord of the Rings does!
No news on the book front this week. Vinnie Jones phoned me a few days ago and has promised to come around to my house to tell me about a tea related transparency. ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’ looks set to be my best book yet!
I have been bombarded with emails, letters and voices concerning last week’s tips for prison. It seems that survival in prison is a common concern for the staff of GEM. Of course there was a steady flow of problems for me to solve and judging by the feedback I did an excellent job. Let’s have a look now and see how I dealt with one of the problems from this week’s heap.
Don’t you forget to continue sending your worries and dilemmas into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as a grater when you want small flakes of cheese, a tongue when you want to lick some yogurt from it’s container or a huge robot with laser guided and heat seeking missiles when your house is being attacked by Godzilla.
My brains fluids are here to help.
Dear Zelda,
I’ve had one of the strangest experiences of my life and now I am really confused and don’t know what to do. Last Friday a few of the lads and I were on our way to the local for a few pints and to see if one of us could get within six foot of the opposite sex.
The night started off as it meant to go on. Weird. All four of us arrived at the pub at the same time and an hour earlier. Whether this was because we met an hour earlier in my house and then got the same taxi together I just don’t know. All I do know is that it was strange and we were all frightened.
As we walked into the pub I noticed that things seemed extra quiet and the air was full of smoke. I began to cough and my eyes were really burning. I became aware that my mates looked a little watery in the eye region too. I checked my pockets and sure enough there were some tissues in there which I quickly distributed amongst my friends. We dried our eyes and walked up to the bar. It was the usual order, three pints of larger, a pint of Guinness, two apples, four bags of scampi fries, seven shots of tequila and four glasses of Baileys.
Three hours later and after many more drinks, fruit and scampi fries, one of my mates decided to go over to a really pretty girl who was stood at the bar smoking a cigar and eating a chicken wing. The light bounced beautifully from her chicken-greased chin. As my friend got closer he slipped on a slightly wet or greasy patch which made him fly head first into the girl. Both the chicken and the cigar disappeared down the girl’s throat. All hell broke out. A really large man walked casually over to my friend, who was trying really hard to help the choking girl and uppercut him so hard that he flew upwards and over the bar. I ran over to see if I could do anything to help but received a chair to the neck, a table to the knees and was then thrown out by the bouncers!
I tried to get back into the bar but was told that there was no way I was going back in so I began to cry. I started to walk away from the pub in the direction of a herd of taxis when there was a bright white light all around me.
I woke up three hours later in my own apartment, naked and covered in honey! I got in the shower and suddenly remembered what had happened. I had been abducted by aliens!
Help me Zelda, do you know anything about this kind of thing? I don’t know who else to talk to. I told my friends and they just called me Sigourney Weaver and threw bread at me!
Hercules McGee
Dear Hercules,
Alien abduction happens to all of us at least seven times in our life time. Your experience last Friday will not be the last time you will have to deal with these little blighters!
Alien abduction started back in the 1980s when Richard Branson was trying to invent a balloon that would allow him to travel to the moon and back in less than four hours. Although unsuccessful, he did manage to send a signal to our neighbouring planet Neptune, a planet containing evil creatures with a keen interest in humans, and ever since alien abductions have been an everyday occurrence. Sure, they are scary the first time, especially when you start getting the flashbacks of having your head pumped full of foam but over time you will accept this feeling.
There are no avoiding abductions by these things from Neptune but there are ways of preparing or making it difficult for the cosmic kidnappers and by keeping the following facts and instructions in mind you can be relax the moment you begin to get snatched.
• Aliens really hate beards. There are many documented cases of abductees who have had beards who have been taken onto the spaceship and then released just ask quickly due to facial hair. This is difficult for some woman (not me) but if you don’t want to be taken by Aliens let that moustache thicken and those sideburns flourish!
• Moisturise with full fat mayonnaise. This delicious pudding smeared on the skin not only keeps your skin looking fresh but also stings the sticky flesh of the aliens and frightens them into putting you back on Earth or the moon. It has something to do with the enzymes and nucleuses. Don’t use low fat or a garlic type of mayonnaise, this just attracts the aliens and you will be abducted every half an hour. This happened to my friend and she still makes the same mistake.
• Fill your pillow with mouse fur. If the aliens try a more hands on approach by simply walking into your bedroom then a mouse-fur-filled-pillow can be swung like lightening in its general direction. A weapon invented by Richard Branson himself! It has been claimed that this weapon actually prevented an invasion in the early 2000s. You will still be abducted by aliens anyway but they will use the usual beam of light method instead.
• Don’t blink when out at night. This will heighten your awareness and may give you the chance to run away from the beam of light. Rub flour or dust into your eyes to aid you in keeping them open.
• Watch the original Star Trek – Keep an eye on the martial arts skills of Shatner. If the aliens decide to abduct you and then challenge you to a brawl you can relax safe in the knowledge that you have studied with a grand master. Legends state that William Shatner once managed to eat six men’s faces in the middle of a fight and then burped them onto a different mans head, all in the space of three hours!
The above information is going to save you much grief from our alien cousins, Hercules. I hope that other GEM readers who are being plagued by aliens find the above information useful and remember no one can hear you scream in space… or on Earth if the alien rips your tongue out, which many do.
Love
Zelda X
*Update - Hercules used the advice and, although he was never abducted again, he was raped badly by a man wearing a baseball cap, before being drowned. Lets hope there is a heaven and that it conveniently allows you to only remember the good things. I can't think of anything worse than harps being played all around me and the memories of being drowned just after being raped for ALL eternity. Can you?
Love
Zelda X
It is Sunday at the moment and as I write these words as an introduction to another ‘classic case’ I am thinking about friendship ladies and gentlemen. Times were different when I was involved in this alien abduction case. My husband was alive. He hadn’t slept with my mother (well, not that I was aware of) and the friends I made then were magical. They were and are what I call ‘lifers.’ You always know when the friend you have made is a ‘lifer.’ Maybe you are sitting in a dark night club, forcing in your 35th Pernod and Black and you look over at your friend and they are looking back at you and you both silently agree that it is best that you call an ambulance as you have both been vomiting blood for the past 30 minutes and your mini skirts are saturated. That there is a lifer. Maybe you have spent hours upon hours, fruitlessly plotting the next dimension in comedy and horror cinema w
ith a little Italian guy, tears squirting from your face as your ideas become increasingly inappropriate to the more fragile of idiots. Lifer. Maybe that lifer is a girl who shits through a hose as she has no anus and can make you laugh so much that you are close to touching cloth for the forth time that evening. Lifer. I have friends that I call lifers. Some are new but most are old. My ‘lifers’ know who they are – thanks for being there and being reliable and un-fickle, or un-superficial. Thanks for not being friends with my mother – I would consider that cheating and I would hate to think of you going from being a ‘lifer’ to a ‘deader’. I didn’t kill my husband by the way.Friends are like roses...you have to look out for the pricks!
We all like sci-fi. We all like spooky aliens, so imagine my extreme chunky excitement when the following case smashed through my eyes!
Hello everyone and everyone else. I hope you are all in good health on this fine day. Well, my pet silverback gorilla, Holly, is having a great time with her six little babies and is really putting ‘Simply’ Gary to good use in the breast feeding department.
‘Simply’ Gary has actually moved out of our house and into Holly’s nest and will more than likely stay there for the next two weeks. After which the babies will be old enough to start their own businesses or travel the globe in search of treasure. Silverback gorillas LOVE treasure even more than Gandalf from Lord of the Rings does!
No news on the book front this week. Vinnie Jones phoned me a few days ago and has promised to come around to my house to tell me about a tea related transparency. ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’ looks set to be my best book yet!
I have been bombarded with emails, letters and voices concerning last week’s tips for prison. It seems that survival in prison is a common concern for the staff of GEM. Of course there was a steady flow of problems for me to solve and judging by the feedback I did an excellent job. Let’s have a look now and see how I dealt with one of the problems from this week’s heap.
Don’t you forget to continue sending your worries and dilemmas into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as a grater when you want small flakes of cheese, a tongue when you want to lick some yogurt from it’s container or a huge robot with laser guided and heat seeking missiles when your house is being attacked by Godzilla.
My brains fluids are here to help.
Dear Zelda,
I’ve had one of the strangest experiences of my life and now I am really confused and don’t know what to do. Last Friday a few of the lads and I were on our way to the local for a few pints and to see if one of us could get within six foot of the opposite sex.
The night started off as it meant to go on. Weird. All four of us arrived at the pub at the same time and an hour earlier. Whether this was because we met an hour earlier in my house and then got the same taxi together I just don’t know. All I do know is that it was strange and we were all frightened.
As we walked into the pub I noticed that things seemed extra quiet and the air was full of smoke. I began to cough and my eyes were really burning. I became aware that my mates looked a little watery in the eye region too. I checked my pockets and sure enough there were some tissues in there which I quickly distributed amongst my friends. We dried our eyes and walked up to the bar. It was the usual order, three pints of larger, a pint of Guinness, two apples, four bags of scampi fries, seven shots of tequila and four glasses of Baileys.Three hours later and after many more drinks, fruit and scampi fries, one of my mates decided to go over to a really pretty girl who was stood at the bar smoking a cigar and eating a chicken wing. The light bounced beautifully from her chicken-greased chin. As my friend got closer he slipped on a slightly wet or greasy patch which made him fly head first into the girl. Both the chicken and the cigar disappeared down the girl’s throat. All hell broke out. A really large man walked casually over to my friend, who was trying really hard to help the choking girl and uppercut him so hard that he flew upwards and over the bar. I ran over to see if I could do anything to help but received a chair to the neck, a table to the knees and was then thrown out by the bouncers!
I tried to get back into the bar but was told that there was no way I was going back in so I began to cry. I started to walk away from the pub in the direction of a herd of taxis when there was a bright white light all around me.
I woke up three hours later in my own apartment, naked and covered in honey! I got in the shower and suddenly remembered what had happened. I had been abducted by aliens!
Help me Zelda, do you know anything about this kind of thing? I don’t know who else to talk to. I told my friends and they just called me Sigourney Weaver and threw bread at me!
Hercules McGee
Dear Hercules,
Alien abduction happens to all of us at least seven times in our life time. Your experience last Friday will not be the last time you will have to deal with these little blighters!
Alien abduction started back in the 1980s when Richard Branson was trying to invent a balloon that would allow him to travel to the moon and back in less than four hours. Although unsuccessful, he did manage to send a signal to our neighbouring planet Neptune, a planet containing evil creatures with a keen interest in humans, and ever since alien abductions have been an everyday occurrence. Sure, they are scary the first time, especially when you start getting the flashbacks of having your head pumped full of foam but over time you will accept this feeling.
There are no avoiding abductions by these things from Neptune but there are ways of preparing or making it difficult for the cosmic kidnappers and by keeping the following facts and instructions in mind you can be relax the moment you begin to get snatched.
• Aliens really hate beards. There are many documented cases of abductees who have had beards who have been taken onto the spaceship and then released just ask quickly due to facial hair. This is difficult for some woman (not me) but if you don’t want to be taken by Aliens let that moustache thicken and those sideburns flourish!
• Moisturise with full fat mayonnaise. This delicious pudding smeared on the skin not only keeps your skin looking fresh but also stings the sticky flesh of the aliens and frightens them into putting you back on Earth or the moon. It has something to do with the enzymes and nucleuses. Don’t use low fat or a garlic type of mayonnaise, this just attracts the aliens and you will be abducted every half an hour. This happened to my friend and she still makes the same mistake.
• Fill your pillow with mouse fur. If the aliens try a more hands on approach by simply walking into your bedroom then a mouse-fur-filled-pillow can be swung like lightening in its general direction. A weapon invented by Richard Branson himself! It has been claimed that this weapon actually prevented an invasion in the early 2000s. You will still be abducted by aliens anyway but they will use the usual beam of light method instead.
• Don’t blink when out at night. This will heighten your awareness and may give you the chance to run away from the beam of light. Rub flour or dust into your eyes to aid you in keeping them open.• Watch the original Star Trek – Keep an eye on the martial arts skills of Shatner. If the aliens decide to abduct you and then challenge you to a brawl you can relax safe in the knowledge that you have studied with a grand master. Legends state that William Shatner once managed to eat six men’s faces in the middle of a fight and then burped them onto a different mans head, all in the space of three hours!
The above information is going to save you much grief from our alien cousins, Hercules. I hope that other GEM readers who are being plagued by aliens find the above information useful and remember no one can hear you scream in space… or on Earth if the alien rips your tongue out, which many do.
Love
Zelda X
*Update - Hercules used the advice and, although he was never abducted again, he was raped badly by a man wearing a baseball cap, before being drowned. Lets hope there is a heaven and that it conveniently allows you to only remember the good things. I can't think of anything worse than harps being played all around me and the memories of being drowned just after being raped for ALL eternity. Can you?
Love
Zelda X
Friday, 7 May 2010
Soiling of the grass!
Hello again, a few years ago, back in the 80s no less, this case landed on my desk I stifled a yelp as I was unsure what I would do for this skinbag 
at first. Then, it hit me. Advise him. So I did.
At the time I was still gathering material for my book ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? And I had gained some valuable information from the late Jim Bowen, who is dead now (not right now, but to save me coming back and editing I will refer to him as if he died. He may not have been killed by a cougar but for the purpose of this exercise I want you to visualise this wild creature clawing at Jim’s sad and extremely confused face, as it is torn to shreds by the wild animal that some how managed to get into the bath with Jim unnoticed. Maybe Jim was doing that thing where he lay back in the bath and had a hot flannel over his face and was thinking of dart related game shows. Maybe he had some shampoo in his eyes and he was clumsily grasping at air, inches away from the towel and then when he finally got the towel he dried his eyes and all the while the cougar was just sitting on one of those trays which go across the bath which you can put soap, sponge and pumice in. Poor Jim. May he be in a better place right now. We love you Jim. God bless! Why GOD?! WHY!!! WHY DID YOU TAKE ONE OF YOUR OWN!!!!) Jim's name isn't even Jim! It's Peter.
This article is also the first time that I mention my pet silverback Gorilla - Holly.
Please enjoy and remember, not all that glitters is gold. Glass in the face of a chav?
Good morning, good afternoon, good night and merry Christmas to you depending on when you are reading this! I informed my lovely WIG colleagues last week that I had to go to an Annual Agony Aunt Convention. This was not true. Me and my husband ‘Simply’ Gary’s pet silverback gorilla, Holly gave birth to her first litter of hatchlings.
It was an easy labour with all six of the babies flying out pretty much at the same time. Holly is, of course, storing her children in her back pouches until they are old enough to walk. ‘Simply’ Gary has to help out with the breast feeding of the offspring as they are a hungry bunch and Holly can only take so much milking.
This birth took up much of my time last week and also left me with a huge amount of work in both GEM and in answering your emails and questions. It has also knocked things back with the work I have been doing on my book, ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’
Jim Bowen submitted some interesting material about how many years ago, around the time Bullseye ended, he and his wife were sitting in a hammock drinking a fresh mug of Tetley when all of a sudden he felt a painful sensation flooding through his shoulders. The amazing thing is that instead of becoming invisible or slightly translucent he actually became even denser in appearance. The tea had caused a reverse effect. This affliction left the comedian in such a solid state that cameras couldn’t pick up his image anymore and so Bullseye ended.
It is time for me to work my magic now and solve another problem bothering a precious GEM staff member. Don’t forget to keep sending your problems into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as a beaver when you need a dam, some beef when you are planning a delicious roast beef dinner or a pair of goggles when you are swimming and your eyes are sensitive to chlorine and/or urine.
My brain waves are here to help.
Dear Zelda,
I am in a real mess! Recently, I moved into a lovely estate in Belfast. When I moved there I quickly learnt that everyone knows each other very well and every week the whole estate take it in turns to meet up at each others houses to talk about what is going on in our little suburbia.
It didn’t take long for me to get invited to one of these gatherings and it didn’t take long for me to notice that the people living in the other houses were all a little bit creepy. First of all, all of the residents look very similar. Women and men seem to have the same hair and features. None of the twelve couples have children and all of them have dogs.
Not long after this meeting the trouble started. At first I thought it was an accident. They all have dogs. Dogs need to be walked. Dogs need to go to the toilet but what I couldn’t understand was why it was happening in my garden and everyone else’s were untouched by dirty creations! I kept my mouth shut for around six months, hosing the garden clean every weekend and spending many hours at night peeping out of my window to try and catch one of the neighbour’s dogs.
One morning I realised things had escalated out of control when I walked out into my garden to find my whole lawn covered from apple tree to Conifer tree in dogs mess. I was so angry that I vowed that I was not going to sleep at all that night and catch the culprit! That was the night that I was to learn the horrifying truth.
It was approaching 2am and I was very tired. I had turned all of the lights off around 11pm so had been sitting, staring at my garden in pitch black. That was when I spotted my neighbours forming a straight line next to my driveway and take begin to take turns to find a spot of ‘clean’ grass and create what I had originally thought was dogs mess! Half an hour later my garden is covered and I have not moved a muscle. I have literally frozen in shock. I knew right away what I was going to do.
The very next night I waited until late and ran next door and as the saying goes, did as the Romans do. Half way through my plan the lights flicked on and my neighbour, Mr Hankerson, is staring at me bleary eyed with his wife in tears. My shouts of how I saw them doing the same thing soon awoke the neighbours and within half an hour of my trousers being pulled up I found myself in a police station. My explanation seemed to be ignored which may have been due to fact that the police man who was interrogating me was Mr Hankerson.
This is the problem. I am scared of going to prison so was wondering if you had any tips for people who will have to spend life in prison for ‘messing’ up someone’s garden.
Greg Chunks
Dear Greg,
Things really have gotten out of control for you and I can only imagine the horror you must be feeling. The chances of you getting a life sentence in a maximum security prison look certain which are bad for both you and GEM.
‘Garden Littering’ such as this was first recorded back in 1899 when Sir Frances Drake (first man on the moon) was spotted by Hulk Hogan in the middle of ‘Littering’ his huge Hogan garden. The Hulkster was less than happy at what had happened and a law was invented right away. Any person caught doing such atrocious things in another persons garden would be locked away for the rest of their natural life. Frances Drake died a few years later after being put in a prison much too small for him.
Greg, prison life doesn’t have to be so bad especially if you follow my handy tips which I call ‘Handy Tips for staying alive as long as you are not killed in Prison’
1) Wash on a regular basis – A smelly prisoner is a sad prisoner. If you run out of shower gel ask if you can go to the shop and to buy some more.
2) Eat food - Food is an important aspect to staying alive. Try and eat at least once a month and the same goes for drink.
3) Wear clothes – You are not at home now. Remember to always wear clothes when out with the lads, doing a few rounds of the prison yard. You may see others trying to be funny by walking around naked. It isn’t funny and it certainly isn’t clever.
4) Keep away from scorpions, snakes and poisonous tarantulas - Don’t make it a habit to get caught by one of these beasts. This will only make you uncomfortable and your stay in prison feel longer than necessary.
5) Use public transport – Nobody likes someone who has no respect for the environment. Catch a bus in the prison yard. It’s much more economical too.
6) Get a spare key cut – Its always embarrassing to get locked out of your cell. Keep a spare in your neighbour’s cell or under a potted plant.
These tips are only useful if you are not going to be executed.
Well, that’s all the tips you will need for life in prison and I hope this is useful to any other people in GEM who are going to be locked away.
Zelda
at first. Then, it hit me. Advise him. So I did.At the time I was still gathering material for my book ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? And I had gained some valuable information from the late Jim Bowen, who is dead now (not right now, but to save me coming back and editing I will refer to him as if he died. He may not have been killed by a cougar but for the purpose of this exercise I want you to visualise this wild creature clawing at Jim’s sad and extremely confused face, as it is torn to shreds by the wild animal that some how managed to get into the bath with Jim unnoticed. Maybe Jim was doing that thing where he lay back in the bath and had a hot flannel over his face and was thinking of dart related game shows. Maybe he had some shampoo in his eyes and he was clumsily grasping at air, inches away from the towel and then when he finally got the towel he dried his eyes and all the while the cougar was just sitting on one of those trays which go across the bath which you can put soap, sponge and pumice in. Poor Jim. May he be in a better place right now. We love you Jim. God bless! Why GOD?! WHY!!! WHY DID YOU TAKE ONE OF YOUR OWN!!!!) Jim's name isn't even Jim! It's Peter.
This article is also the first time that I mention my pet silverback Gorilla - Holly.
Please enjoy and remember, not all that glitters is gold. Glass in the face of a chav?
Good morning, good afternoon, good night and merry Christmas to you depending on when you are reading this! I informed my lovely WIG colleagues last week that I had to go to an Annual Agony Aunt Convention. This was not true. Me and my husband ‘Simply’ Gary’s pet silverback gorilla, Holly gave birth to her first litter of hatchlings.
It was an easy labour with all six of the babies flying out pretty much at the same time. Holly is, of course, storing her children in her back pouches until they are old enough to walk. ‘Simply’ Gary has to help out with the breast feeding of the offspring as they are a hungry bunch and Holly can only take so much milking.This birth took up much of my time last week and also left me with a huge amount of work in both GEM and in answering your emails and questions. It has also knocked things back with the work I have been doing on my book, ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’
Jim Bowen submitted some interesting material about how many years ago, around the time Bullseye ended, he and his wife were sitting in a hammock drinking a fresh mug of Tetley when all of a sudden he felt a painful sensation flooding through his shoulders. The amazing thing is that instead of becoming invisible or slightly translucent he actually became even denser in appearance. The tea had caused a reverse effect. This affliction left the comedian in such a solid state that cameras couldn’t pick up his image anymore and so Bullseye ended.
It is time for me to work my magic now and solve another problem bothering a precious GEM staff member. Don’t forget to keep sending your problems into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as a beaver when you need a dam, some beef when you are planning a delicious roast beef dinner or a pair of goggles when you are swimming and your eyes are sensitive to chlorine and/or urine.
My brain waves are here to help.
Dear Zelda,
I am in a real mess! Recently, I moved into a lovely estate in Belfast. When I moved there I quickly learnt that everyone knows each other very well and every week the whole estate take it in turns to meet up at each others houses to talk about what is going on in our little suburbia.
It didn’t take long for me to get invited to one of these gatherings and it didn’t take long for me to notice that the people living in the other houses were all a little bit creepy. First of all, all of the residents look very similar. Women and men seem to have the same hair and features. None of the twelve couples have children and all of them have dogs.
Not long after this meeting the trouble started. At first I thought it was an accident. They all have dogs. Dogs need to be walked. Dogs need to go to the toilet but what I couldn’t understand was why it was happening in my garden and everyone else’s were untouched by dirty creations! I kept my mouth shut for around six months, hosing the garden clean every weekend and spending many hours at night peeping out of my window to try and catch one of the neighbour’s dogs.
One morning I realised things had escalated out of control when I walked out into my garden to find my whole lawn covered from apple tree to Conifer tree in dogs mess. I was so angry that I vowed that I was not going to sleep at all that night and catch the culprit! That was the night that I was to learn the horrifying truth.
It was approaching 2am and I was very tired. I had turned all of the lights off around 11pm so had been sitting, staring at my garden in pitch black. That was when I spotted my neighbours forming a straight line next to my driveway and take begin to take turns to find a spot of ‘clean’ grass and create what I had originally thought was dogs mess! Half an hour later my garden is covered and I have not moved a muscle. I have literally frozen in shock. I knew right away what I was going to do.
The very next night I waited until late and ran next door and as the saying goes, did as the Romans do. Half way through my plan the lights flicked on and my neighbour, Mr Hankerson, is staring at me bleary eyed with his wife in tears. My shouts of how I saw them doing the same thing soon awoke the neighbours and within half an hour of my trousers being pulled up I found myself in a police station. My explanation seemed to be ignored which may have been due to fact that the police man who was interrogating me was Mr Hankerson.
This is the problem. I am scared of going to prison so was wondering if you had any tips for people who will have to spend life in prison for ‘messing’ up someone’s garden.
Greg Chunks
Dear Greg,
Things really have gotten out of control for you and I can only imagine the horror you must be feeling. The chances of you getting a life sentence in a maximum security prison look certain which are bad for both you and GEM.‘Garden Littering’ such as this was first recorded back in 1899 when Sir Frances Drake (first man on the moon) was spotted by Hulk Hogan in the middle of ‘Littering’ his huge Hogan garden. The Hulkster was less than happy at what had happened and a law was invented right away. Any person caught doing such atrocious things in another persons garden would be locked away for the rest of their natural life. Frances Drake died a few years later after being put in a prison much too small for him.
Greg, prison life doesn’t have to be so bad especially if you follow my handy tips which I call ‘Handy Tips for staying alive as long as you are not killed in Prison’
1) Wash on a regular basis – A smelly prisoner is a sad prisoner. If you run out of shower gel ask if you can go to the shop and to buy some more.
2) Eat food - Food is an important aspect to staying alive. Try and eat at least once a month and the same goes for drink.
3) Wear clothes – You are not at home now. Remember to always wear clothes when out with the lads, doing a few rounds of the prison yard. You may see others trying to be funny by walking around naked. It isn’t funny and it certainly isn’t clever.
4) Keep away from scorpions, snakes and poisonous tarantulas - Don’t make it a habit to get caught by one of these beasts. This will only make you uncomfortable and your stay in prison feel longer than necessary.
5) Use public transport – Nobody likes someone who has no respect for the environment. Catch a bus in the prison yard. It’s much more economical too.
6) Get a spare key cut – Its always embarrassing to get locked out of your cell. Keep a spare in your neighbour’s cell or under a potted plant.
These tips are only useful if you are not going to be executed.
Well, that’s all the tips you will need for life in prison and I hope this is useful to any other people in GEM who are going to be locked away.
Zelda
Sorry it's been a while you lovely person you!
Hello boys and girls,
Well, it’s been a long time since I talked to you all and so much has happened. One thing that DIDN’T happen though was my script! ARGH!
It was a cold night, I was sitting in my writing chair, a glass of slightly chilled water in my well manicured hand, my notes sprawled across my desk like a selection of Moses scrolls, when BANG! A cup smashed in the kitchen.
“Can you go and take a look at what that was?” I called out loud. Then I remembered, I live alone in this lighthouse-mill. Just me and the spirit of Simply Gary.
I got up from my desk and headed in the direction of the kitchen and the smashing sound. My heart was pumping fat blood through my arteries like skin flicks in a virgin’s garage space. Fear gripped my chowder. What the hell had made a cup fall over? I looked at my watch, my fear and anxiety becoming thicker as the big hand went on a 12 and the little hand was on the 11. A cup had not only broken but it was also really, really late. What on St Gods green Earth had made a cup fall at a time like this.
I reached the kitchen, and raised one of those hands I was on about earlier. My nails did a tapping sound as they struck the wood like chutney bursting through an octopus. Using gravity and force, I pushed the door open. It opened. On the floor, in pieces was a cup. Something moved. Was it a coincidence that it moved when I moved? It wasn’t.
I was devastated that I was unable to write my script. I was even more devastated when The WIG was once again stopped in work. I was often thanked for publishing my words of advice to the workers of GEM as there was advice to be taken from every piece of work I had ‘published.’
“Thanks,” a man would say.
“I am good now,” another man would say.
“I still have a problem with my blood flow down there but your advice has inspired me to give it another go, but with my wife this time,” said another man.
A few girls said things too!
“My nipples have never been so responsive!”
I can obviously offer advice here and will still do some at people directly if I have time and time isn’t being a whore.
Anyway, I am going to stick a few old cases up for you to check out with your eyes. Don’t hesitate to contact me if you want to have a wag of the chin and get things off your chest. Maybe your husband is being a cheating scumbag and is out there with your mother right now, pleasuring her in ways that only a man with no inhibitions or respect for women can. Tea bagging, roman-showers, scat, public pissing, granny sex, webcam stuff, ‘forced’ and ‘a bit of juice’ that is probably what they are doing right now and you are sitting here reading this going, “Boo-hoo, I think he is out there doing a scat with a woman and I am sitting here reading this… boo-hoo.”Seriously, get in touch, let me know what’s up and I will get back to you with advice. I know people.
Love
Zelda x
Saturday, 27 March 2010
Virus on the PC
I had a virus on the PC. It is gone. This weeks article had to be 
edited for the lovely work publication - The WIG - because there were references that could have been related to pubes or the bit that a man has but women don't. I dare not use such words as penis. I will add the unedited piece, as well as a few others that were modified for the more sensitive folk.
I will include a large update here tomorrow, but for now, I love you all and hope that nobody dies.
Love Zelda
x
edited for the lovely work publication - The WIG - because there were references that could have been related to pubes or the bit that a man has but women don't. I dare not use such words as penis. I will add the unedited piece, as well as a few others that were modified for the more sensitive folk.I will include a large update here tomorrow, but for now, I love you all and hope that nobody dies.
Love Zelda
x
Monday, 22 March 2010
The birth of Monday and an old article about a stalker
It’s a Monday. A day that would be considered to be the most evil of all days, and I am talking pure evil. Not just bad. Pure evil.
I will tell you a quick story about how Monday first happened. For this we will need to go back to the stuff that is written in that Bible you see in most good bookshops. There are a few things missing from the bible, one of them being some things about what happened to St God on the day he created Monday.
And thou did a Monday out of the moon dust and space chunks. God gazed and pondered an eloquent minute. Pleased. Monday. A good start. But what is this? Tiredness in God’s loins. His head of almighty goodness bored and unarsed? Mystical eyes no longer yearning to stay open. Doth thou sleep chamber call ye? A heart mattress filled with a straw and skin fur of duck? Tempting?
“Monday is shit!” said God and did his best to smite it but the laziness was overwhelming. The God sat and wondered. Why had he did a Monday and not just do a Friday to Sunday? Even the odd Thursday was not too bad. Monday. What was the great bearded one thinking? Clasping bearded chin, God was too far into his plan to scrap Tuesday, which felt even more pointless and depressing than Monday. Not quite the start of the week, not quite the middle and FAR from the end of the week. Shit.
Meanwhile, Anubis was laughing. Monday was his favourite day.
And that was where it all started.
Here is another old case that I dealt with in the GEM online magazine – the WIG for a young ‘Kelly Meat.’ This was the only time that I have ever changed the name of a person in my column so that they can avoid being embarrassed or arrested. Isn’t that right Rachael?
Hello my fellow ladies and gentlemen I hope you all had a fantastic week. It’s so nice to be back in Belfast and even better to be back in the lovely tranquil surroundings of the GEM building. Tokyo was wonderful and I made many new friends in that wonderful town including the one and only Rick Moranis who has contributed to my up coming book, ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’ Rick talked endlessly about how he nearly made it big but was outshone by superior actors such as Steve Martin and Burt Reynolds.
Ted Danson was an interesting man to talk to and he had many tales of how he was almost made permanently invisible after drinking tea spiked by an ill tempered chimp. Even as I was talking to him his ears were still missing along with his bottom lip. Jackie Chan didn’t even turn up and Chevy Chase was a big disappointment. He thought I was writing a book called Can Tea Really Make You Less Bald and Increase the Length of Your Knees. He is the third person to make the same mistake.
As promised I found out some celebrity secrets that had been kept out of the public eye, until now! Britney Spears eats sand, Samuel L. Jackson collects the breath of actors he has worked with, Madonna can lay eggs and finally, Vin Diesel needs to shave his eyes.
Last week I had a letter from a young lady and promised I would help her with a love problem. A love problem that has led her into the dark world of stalking and hair collecting. Not just one or two hairs, oh no, we’re talking chunks of the stuff! Eating it too!
Don’t forget to keep sending your emails into us at WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as ball when you feel like a game of billiards, some soil when you are planting a shrub or a Black and Decker work bench when you are trying to hold some wood steady so that you can saw a bit of wood to the exact size needed to build a shelf to hold your ant farm.
The thoughts that I create can help you.
Dear Zelda
I don't know if you can help me but you are my last resort! I am in love with a man I work with. That, I hear you scream in your catty voice, is not an issue and I understand this but it is my reaction to my new found love that bothers me. I have recently discovered how capable I am of stalking. It started off two weeks ago with little minor issues like following this man home and whispering his name. Whenever he left the office I would sniff his chair as hard as I could which has led to cutting off chunks of his hair and eating it in the toilets.
Last week I started pretending to my colleges that I am at meetings for hours when, in reality, I am in fact either under his desk touching his feet or I am curled in a ball in his drawer, listening for clues as to how I can accidentally on purposely bump into him. This did work on a few occasions and I managed to spot him in a few pubs. I would sit grinning at him, thinking of our children, our dogs and the many nights of looking at the video clips I have of him on my phone.
I am a little worried about the whole thing, not because I am now a stalker; in fact I am fine with this. My problem is that I managed to capture him with a huge net and he is below my bed at home. I'm not sure what my next step should be. Please help Zelda. He has been below my bed for 6 days now and I still haven't decided how to start a conversation with him?
Thankyou!
Kelly Meat
Dear Kelly,
Thank you for your wonderful letter. This man under your bed is not unusual and is something I can help you with easily. It is common knowledge that men actually want to be kept under beds. Men, if not under the bed can be found in a cave, underground or in a nest full of pigeons. So, remember you have done the right thing by capturing him and putting him in his natural environment. We all know that if he hadn’t been put under the bed right away he would have dried and would have been unable to shed his skin.
The best way to start a conversation, especially now that he is under your bed, stinking the place up, is to climb under the bed yourself. You need to make it clear, as you crawl into his domain, that you are only visiting. Failure to do this could mean that he thinks that you have moved in with him making it almost impossible for you to get back out. Once you are under the bed and you have laid the ground rules you need to talk about ‘boy things’ such as hair, (don’t eat anymore of it, not yet anyway) lotions, Rome, Brad Pitt and Kickboxing. Any of these subjects will help the boy relax and open up. Maybe he will show you a picture of his DVD collection, at which point act impressed. To play it safe, act amazed at any picture he shows you, even if it is of him dressed as his mother. From here you can invite him to the pub with you or even a delicatessen to pick up some containers of sun dried tomatoes.
Over the next few weeks the romance that started the day you began eating his hair will grow and grow. He will start talking of getting you to move under the bed with him and will want regular two player games on the X-box. You may want to move in right away but this will be a mistake in the long run.
Don’t let this boy think that he has the upper hand and that you are a pushover.
Good luck in your relationship with your new man and if he turns out to be a waste of time just release him and find yourself a new one.
Love Zelda
xxx
I will tell you a quick story about how Monday first happened. For this we will need to go back to the stuff that is written in that Bible you see in most good bookshops. There are a few things missing from the bible, one of them being some things about what happened to St God on the day he created Monday.
And thou did a Monday out of the moon dust and space chunks. God gazed and pondered an eloquent minute. Pleased. Monday. A good start. But what is this? Tiredness in God’s loins. His head of almighty goodness bored and unarsed? Mystical eyes no longer yearning to stay open. Doth thou sleep chamber call ye? A heart mattress filled with a straw and skin fur of duck? Tempting?
“Monday is shit!” said God and did his best to smite it but the laziness was overwhelming. The God sat and wondered. Why had he did a Monday and not just do a Friday to Sunday? Even the odd Thursday was not too bad. Monday. What was the great bearded one thinking? Clasping bearded chin, God was too far into his plan to scrap Tuesday, which felt even more pointless and depressing than Monday. Not quite the start of the week, not quite the middle and FAR from the end of the week. Shit.
Meanwhile, Anubis was laughing. Monday was his favourite day.
And that was where it all started.
Here is another old case that I dealt with in the GEM online magazine – the WIG for a young ‘Kelly Meat.’ This was the only time that I have ever changed the name of a person in my column so that they can avoid being embarrassed or arrested. Isn’t that right Rachael?
Hello my fellow ladies and gentlemen I hope you all had a fantastic week. It’s so nice to be back in Belfast and even better to be back in the lovely tranquil surroundings of the GEM building. Tokyo was wonderful and I made many new friends in that wonderful town including the one and only Rick Moranis who has contributed to my up coming book, ‘Can Tea Really Make You Invisible?’ Rick talked endlessly about how he nearly made it big but was outshone by superior actors such as Steve Martin and Burt Reynolds.
Ted Danson was an interesting man to talk to and he had many tales of how he was almost made permanently invisible after drinking tea spiked by an ill tempered chimp. Even as I was talking to him his ears were still missing along with his bottom lip. Jackie Chan didn’t even turn up and Chevy Chase was a big disappointment. He thought I was writing a book called Can Tea Really Make You Less Bald and Increase the Length of Your Knees. He is the third person to make the same mistake.
As promised I found out some celebrity secrets that had been kept out of the public eye, until now! Britney Spears eats sand, Samuel L. Jackson collects the breath of actors he has worked with, Madonna can lay eggs and finally, Vin Diesel needs to shave his eyes.
Last week I had a letter from a young lady and promised I would help her with a love problem. A love problem that has led her into the dark world of stalking and hair collecting. Not just one or two hairs, oh no, we’re talking chunks of the stuff! Eating it too!
Don’t forget to keep sending your emails into us at WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally. Think of me as ball when you feel like a game of billiards, some soil when you are planting a shrub or a Black and Decker work bench when you are trying to hold some wood steady so that you can saw a bit of wood to the exact size needed to build a shelf to hold your ant farm.
The thoughts that I create can help you.
Dear Zelda
I don't know if you can help me but you are my last resort! I am in love with a man I work with. That, I hear you scream in your catty voice, is not an issue and I understand this but it is my reaction to my new found love that bothers me. I have recently discovered how capable I am of stalking. It started off two weeks ago with little minor issues like following this man home and whispering his name. Whenever he left the office I would sniff his chair as hard as I could which has led to cutting off chunks of his hair and eating it in the toilets.Last week I started pretending to my colleges that I am at meetings for hours when, in reality, I am in fact either under his desk touching his feet or I am curled in a ball in his drawer, listening for clues as to how I can accidentally on purposely bump into him. This did work on a few occasions and I managed to spot him in a few pubs. I would sit grinning at him, thinking of our children, our dogs and the many nights of looking at the video clips I have of him on my phone.
I am a little worried about the whole thing, not because I am now a stalker; in fact I am fine with this. My problem is that I managed to capture him with a huge net and he is below my bed at home. I'm not sure what my next step should be. Please help Zelda. He has been below my bed for 6 days now and I still haven't decided how to start a conversation with him?
Thankyou!
Kelly Meat
Dear Kelly,
Thank you for your wonderful letter. This man under your bed is not unusual and is something I can help you with easily. It is common knowledge that men actually want to be kept under beds. Men, if not under the bed can be found in a cave, underground or in a nest full of pigeons. So, remember you have done the right thing by capturing him and putting him in his natural environment. We all know that if he hadn’t been put under the bed right away he would have dried and would have been unable to shed his skin.
The best way to start a conversation, especially now that he is under your bed, stinking the place up, is to climb under the bed yourself. You need to make it clear, as you crawl into his domain, that you are only visiting. Failure to do this could mean that he thinks that you have moved in with him making it almost impossible for you to get back out. Once you are under the bed and you have laid the ground rules you need to talk about ‘boy things’ such as hair, (don’t eat anymore of it, not yet anyway) lotions, Rome, Brad Pitt and Kickboxing. Any of these subjects will help the boy relax and open up. Maybe he will show you a picture of his DVD collection, at which point act impressed. To play it safe, act amazed at any picture he shows you, even if it is of him dressed as his mother. From here you can invite him to the pub with you or even a delicatessen to pick up some containers of sun dried tomatoes.
Over the next few weeks the romance that started the day you began eating his hair will grow and grow. He will start talking of getting you to move under the bed with him and will want regular two player games on the X-box. You may want to move in right away but this will be a mistake in the long run.
Don’t let this boy think that he has the upper hand and that you are a pushover. Good luck in your relationship with your new man and if he turns out to be a waste of time just release him and find yourself a new one.
Love Zelda
xxx
Wednesday, 17 March 2010
http://scriptfrenzy.org/
Hello, just a quicky. If you wanna be writing buddies and inspire each other to write 100 pages in half an hour then look for Zelda1
love Zelda
x
love Zelda
x
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Here is another classic case - it has vampires in it!
Hello,It’s been a few days but here we go, here is another classic case that I dealt with many years ago. A case of…. Vampires, or as my good friend the late Samuel L Jackson would say, mother fucking vampires! If he did say that I would say to him, no Samuel, no! The vampire in this instance does not have any kind of sex with mothers and it is worth keeping in mind that while some vampires do prefer the sexual skin on skin action of a mothers flesh not all of them limit themselves in this way. Some may in fact like to enter a father, or just a regular guy. They may even like to kiss animals on the lips for absolutely ages until they have built up a film around the edges of their teeth and they have to scrape it with their nail. So, keep that in mind Samuel L next time you decide to just jump in and start interfering with my work.
This week I am going to help another GEM employee with a problem which is troubling them.
So, WIG readers if you want the guidance of a woman with many years of problem solving under her belt put fingers to keyboards and tell me your dilemma.
Think of me as a soft warm pillow to snooze on when snoozy. A dog when your cupboard is full of Pedigree Chum or a hat when it’s a bit windy and you don’t want your mane to get dishevelled.
My mind is here to help.
Dear Zelda,
I have a 14 year old son who I am terrified of. The reason for this fear is because I know that he is a vampire!
My initial fear started up last year when me, my wife and our son were on Holiday in Brisbane (not far from Shanghai). My son kept complaining about the sunlight and how it burned. I knew right away that there was something strange going on. Think about it for a while. What kind of person or creature complains about sunlight? That’s right, a vampire!
Not long after our holiday we were eating chips, beans and garlic bread at the dinner table. My son began complaining that garlic bread made him feel sick and that he didn’t want any. My suspicions were aroused once more so I decided to conduct a little test. The very next morning I placed seven cloves of liquidised garlic in the milk and watched my son pour it over his breakfast cereal. He had one spoonful of it and vomited everywhere. I was so scared that without thinking I jumped back from the table and threw a dried Weatabix really hard at his head. This enraged him and my wife, who up until that point, I had not told about our son being a vampire.
The atmosphere in our house was a bit weird after that incident. My wife told me I was being irrational and that I am the one with a problem.
I decided to solve the ‘problem’ once and for all by kicking my sons bedroom door in and slamming a cross on his head. He began screaming right away, which disturbed my wife. Half an hour later my wife was pacing the living room, my son was crying in a state of shock and I was apologising to both but deep down not really feeling sorry.
Last Tuesday I went up to my son’s bedroom to give him a dish of home made rice pudding (my wife uses real vanilla pod, costs a fortune but worth it!) and before I even opened the door I knew something was up. I pushed the door open quickly and there was my son was floating in the air and eating our neighbours neck! I took a step back, terrified but not taking my eyes off my son. He looked at me and after dropping our neighbour told me that he was a little bit embarrassed and that he was going to tell me the truth one day. I ran away leaving my wife with him and I am currently staying in a caravan near the Giants Causway.
What do I do? Should I kill my vampire son before he hurts anyone else or should I embrace him?
Marco Footie
Dear Marco,
Vampirism is rare in these parts of the country but looks set to become a common problem in the next few years. Since working as an agony aunt and expert on the occult I have had to deal with seventeen cases of the vampire disease.
As we all know, vampires were invented back in 1880 by Albert Einstein around the same time as he invented the shoe. The crazy fool was trying to invent a way of making humans taller by splicing the DNA of a bat with a human. His experiment failed and instead he created an evil half dead creature that drank human blood. Albert’s scientist friends would often laugh at this stupid mistake and would throw things into his massive hair.
The issue here is that it is not just a vampire but your own flesh and blood. It would be easy for you to storm into his room brandishing a massive chunk of ham but it would be far nicer if we can bring you two together.
Tonight I want you to go back home and apologise to your son. He may not want your wife to know just yet that he is an undead creature from beyond the grave and you will have to accept this. Everyone knows how to kill vampires but not many people know how to cheer one up or look after them. Here is a 5 positive vampire treatments.
1) Vampires love fish paste just as much as blood. Keep an open jar of fish paste (shrimp and mayonnaise preferably) near to your pillow and they will keep off your neck and face.
2) Vampires although terrified of crosses are quite the opposite with triangles. Give a vampire a triangle and you have a friend for life.
3) Vampire’s gums need to be moisturised on a regular basis. Rub a solution of sugar water and tree sap onto their gums to keep them from drying out.
4) Some vampires can get a bit upset about only being able to go out at night. If you simply don’t mention the fact that they will die if sun light goes on them they seem to get depressed much less often.
5) It is a myth that wooden stakes kill vampires. A wooden stake through a vampire’s chest is actually very similar to doing 100 sit-ups to a human.
Good luck with your son Marco; if he gets a little rambunctious you can always fill your wife with garlic and feed her to your son. *(March - 2010) I suggest eating here Samuel, and certainly no ‘fucking.’*
Zelda
x
Sunday, 7 March 2010
The second Zelda that I published in the WIG
And so came the time for me to expand my column and let you lovely boys and girls know a little more about me. Here is where I introduce my twat of a husband 'Simply' Gary. I am not bitter that he cheated on me with my own mother.
March or Something 2006 or 7
Hello you lovely looking person! No, don’t turn around these words are aimed right into your eyes! You are looking good today. Although not quite as good looking as my friend Michael Jenson, WIG editor extraordinaire, who has promised me that this week’s column will smell like beef! It’s true, go ahead and sniff that screen hard and fast. If there is no beef smell please log a ticket with IT tech guys to get this fixed.
When logging a ticket put the following heading Lack of Beef Coming through monitor. Under this heading just cut and paste the following:
‘The WIG has arrived and I am overjoyed. It completes not only my week but also a part of my life that other publications just couldn’t hope to reach. As I read through the more than interesting articles and useful information contained in this digital magazine I happened across a section written by semi-famous Zelda that promised a particular favourite odour of mine. That odour is of course beef! I have tried changing both the brightness of my monitor and adjusting the height of my chair but neither has produced a bovine smell from the Zelda article.’
You can leave the priority on low as the lovely tech team are very busy trying to create a race of cyborgs and will get back to you as soon as they can.
**** 2010 – I understand that there are people out there that will only eat stuff that grows and not consume beast meat. In hind site we should have all worked together on a less meaty option. Although vegetarians are important for both our economy and are as important to the land as a cabbage, it is ok to eat meat sometimes. I have been working on a way were we can just cuts slices off an animal and cook them but let the animal heal so that it grows some new skin back. When I say that I am working on a way of doing this, I actually mean that I am just going into fields and cutting animals. That will be our little secret.****
Leo Sayer, what a guy. Only 7 inches in height and with the girth of two and a half grey field mice he was easy to transport to the Starbucks near Dunnes Store (better value) in town.
On my way to meet him, I spotted a ball of brown cotton wool. It was one of the strangest things I had ever seen in my entire life for that day. The fluffy ball was blowing around the ground outside Lush and was choking on a greasy sausage roll. At this point I began to think about how nice it would be to have a ball of brown cotton wool to take home and give to Panda. I flipped my arms out in preparation to grasp at the fluff and put it into my pocket. As I got closer I realised it was actually Leo blowing around like a dirty hairy ghost.
He rubbed some of the wet looking pastry from his microscopic facial cheeks and offered his hand in preparation for a hand shake. Not wanting to be rude, I thrust out my own hand in his direction, slowing down as a gale force wind was created by the speed of my hand, almost blowing his flesh off his bones. His hand clasped around my index finger and shook with such enthusiasm that I was almost thrown from my feet and through the window of Lush.
“Sorry,” said Leo, flexing both of his arms in front of me. “Sometimes I just can’t control the guns.”
“Very nice,” I said. I was lying. They looked horrible. One of his arms had a really massive vein going through it that made me feel dizzy.
I walked into Starbucks with Leo sat on my shoulder. Leo was singing a little song and telling me how he and Nelly Furtado were going to be doing a duet. I patted his head reassuringly, I had been looking for an excuse to touch his hair. It felt like smoke.
Sat down and sipping his coffee, Leo began to tell me that he and Vinnie Jones had met up in a pub and Vinnie had began to go on about what had happened one day after drinking tea. Leo said that it was as if something clicked in his head and an incident that had affected him over forty years previous to that meeting with Vinnie suddenly kicked his face.
I looked out of the window and saw two boys fighting over a shoe before asking Leo to tell me more. Those boys were really going for it. One of them was biting.
Leo, (or Gerard as his mum and dad know him) knocked his coffee all over his slippers but seemed to be in a trance as he told me his story.
The date was 1843 and he and his friend Edward Dune were preparing for the school nativity. Leo was playing the manger and Edward was playing one of the manger doors. They were both keen singers and performers and had decided two minutes before the show that they were going to spice the show up with an impromptu dance and song.
The crowd were quiet and watched in content admiration as their sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, friends and myths, acted out the traditional piece of theatre that showed the birth of Jesus. Backstage, Leo had been eating a block of Stilton and some Edam that were to prove a disastrous pair of ingredients to be mixed with the mystical and often devastating powers of tea.
He explained that as he reached the last gram of cheese a thirst, like none he had ever come across before, tore through his larynx. There was a choice between bottled water or the contents of a tartan flask. Being a rebel, Leo was drawn to the tartan.
Leo explained that he was in agony at first as the tea went down his throat and had closed his eyes. As he opened them he found that he actually existed in two places at the same time. One place was the back of the stage, the other, three hundred years into the future.
Leo said that this only lasted a few hours and that he was unable to move the whole time. All he could do was observe. Later, he found that whilst he was in his state everyone could see him clearly but his hair had moved six or seven inches backwards and down his neck.
When I asked him about the future he told me that everyone is slightly different. You can read more about Leo’s version of future events in my book Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? when it gets released.
Before I go any further and we look at this week’s problem, I received an email from Grahame Barnett who wanted to know if I have ever read ‘Mongrel Magazine.’ My answer to this is no, not until yesterday. I decided to take some time out and pursue this magazine online. My heart was already full of excitement at the prospect of a magazine dedicated to the love and nurture of mixed breed dogs. I have no dogs of my own but me and ‘Simply’are still positive will continue to try.
So, mongrel magazine came up on my screen and all my hopes of this ‘mixed dog breed’ magazine were destroyed like so many useless porcelain hammers. So, once again answering your question Grahame, yes I have read mongrel Magazine. I was disappointed. Sorry I didn’t reply to you sooner but by attaching a fly swatter to my face with superglue in a bid to stop direct sunlight hampering my work actually hampered my work.
Don’t you forget to keep sending your worries and dilemmas into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally and without the aid of any laboratory analysis. Think of me as a cheesy coleslaw when wanting to enhance a ham sandwich, a mintish paste for your teeth when you teeth have become offensive or a massive cave full of computer equipment, a car, a jet and a boat, when you are a man that likes to dress up as a bat and has to fight guys that do jokes, riddles and penguin impersonations.
My wits are yours to taste.
Dear Zelda,
I hope you can help me. I have found myself in the middle of a really strange scam that has left me impeded. I can’t do anything properly any more and people keep laughing at me!
I had just got home from a busy day in my job at GEM and had put the television on. By the time I get home, Master Chef Goes Large is usually on. I wasn’t too hungry as I sat down to watch the program but as I watched a woman fill a duck with horse meat, roll that in goose fat, bread crumbs, egg and then fry it for 3 minutes on the back of two beef burgers, my hunger had become irrepressible. Not entirely sure what I was going to cook I took out all the ingredients I had and put them on my kitchen worktop. What was I going to have!? Burger and Soup? Soup and sausages? Maybe even soup and cockles? I looked at the kitchen work surface, my heart filling with dismay. A jar of lemon grass stared back at me.
I tried to make the best out of this bad situation and fried some of the lemon grass and set it on a plate to cool down. I put about an inch of the lemon grass into my mouth and almost gagged. Whilst in mid gag I realised that my freezer was full of ready meals so I could just have one of them.
I could hear my phone begin to ring from the front room of my house and decided that it would be interesting to see who was on the other end of the line. I didn’t recognise the voice at all but what I can say is that his voice was so soft, it was like warm creamy milk pouring into my ears.
“Hello there Miss Middersweatson,” said the voice. “I am pleased to tell you that you have won a prize!”
I tried to remember a competition that I had entered and eventually came to the conclusion that I hadn’t entered any.
“I have come to the conclusion that I have not entered any competitions,” I said with confidence.
The man replied to me in an even milkier voice and explained that the prize was as a result of me being in the right place at the right time. This seemed more than genuine and I accepted his reason for me being entitled to the prize. He told me the address I needed to go to, a time to be there and that when I got there I would be given my prize, which was an I-Pod.
Two days later I arrived at the venue and was greeted by a well built man with really fat baby-like hands. When He spoke I knew right away that he wasn’t the same person I had spoken to on the phone as there was a distinct lack of dairy in his voice.
We waked into a room that was pitch black. The man slammed the door behind me, leaving me alone. I began to panic but then I noticed another door just up ahead of me that appeared to lead outside. As I walked towards this door a rush of air shot from a tube into my face. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I stepped through the door and back into the street, angry that I had been made to look like an idiot. An idiot without an I-pod.
The next morning, when I got out of bed I walked into the bathroom, washed my face and looked into the mirror. That was when the penny dropped. This was all some big strange scam. Please help me Zelda, I have a really big pod coming out of my eye and I am too embarrassed to come back to work until it is gone.
Nicola Middersweatson
Dear Nicola,
You have come to the right person. The eye-pod scam has been going on for many years throughout the world and has only just reached these shores recently.
This scam started in Egypt in 1923 under the watchful eye of Anubis the god of the dead. People would often leave Anubis’s house with tiny little growths on their eyes that would grow into large pink veiny pods that dangled over their eyes.
Just like back in the 20s, nobody even knows what the reason is behind the scam and why eye-pods were even invented.
A similar scam involving free Lego resulted in thousands of people ending up with warped legs that went completely around like wheels. People literally had, what looked like, large hula hoops instead of legs.
Historians have traced the Lego scam back to the 1930s, the times of Zeus. This scam was made redundant after it was found to be quite pathetic when up against the more amusing eye-pod.
Eye-pods grow from seeds and are usually transferred to a person through a tube filled with air and seeds. They can also be passed on from a person suffering with an eye-pod who is blinking really hard against a non sufferers eye.
Eye-pods are only temporary and fall away from the eye without any damage to eyelid or the face. The area that the eye-pod was attached to will almost certainly be painful for a day or two so it is absolutely fine to rub butter into the wound to ease the pain.
Cosmetically, eye-pods are not pleasant to look at and most people find them repulsive and even offensive. One way of making this temporary situation a little more fun would be to paint the eye-pod so that it looks like you have a tiny little ball shaped man attached to your eye. Kids will love it and you are sure to get a smile when you are walking through Belfast on Saturday.
A few tips to avoid the various eye-pod scam:
(1) If your phone rings do not answer it. Never answer your phone ever again. Really! Ever!
(2) If you do answer your phone and it is your mother or father or another person you know ask them for proof that they are who they say they are. These scam artists can put on funny voices that may confuse you.
(3) If you are in a shop, such as Boots, do not let sales assistants spray perfume near your face and eyes. The chances are that you will be in pain and you might have an eye-pod the next day.
(4) Whilst in pubs, try and keep your face away from the backs of chairs or the floor. Not always easy to prevent from happening but one day you could wake with more than a hangover.
(5) When handling monkeys do not allow them to put their fingers in your mouth.
(6) Try to fight the urge to feed ducks. If they become enraged or excited they may peck at your face or flap their wings in your direction. Ducks carry the eye-pod gene.
(7) As mentioned earlier, do not let anyone, even if they do not have a visible eye-pod, flicker their eyelids against your eye. You’ll probably get an eye-pod or an eye infection.
If you live your life around these tips you need never need to worry about eye-pods.
Lots of love,
Zelda
March or Something 2006 or 7
Hello you lovely looking person! No, don’t turn around these words are aimed right into your eyes! You are looking good today. Although not quite as good looking as my friend Michael Jenson, WIG editor extraordinaire, who has promised me that this week’s column will smell like beef! It’s true, go ahead and sniff that screen hard and fast. If there is no beef smell please log a ticket with IT tech guys to get this fixed.
When logging a ticket put the following heading Lack of Beef Coming through monitor. Under this heading just cut and paste the following:
‘The WIG has arrived and I am overjoyed. It completes not only my week but also a part of my life that other publications just couldn’t hope to reach. As I read through the more than interesting articles and useful information contained in this digital magazine I happened across a section written by semi-famous Zelda that promised a particular favourite odour of mine. That odour is of course beef! I have tried changing both the brightness of my monitor and adjusting the height of my chair but neither has produced a bovine smell from the Zelda article.’
You can leave the priority on low as the lovely tech team are very busy trying to create a race of cyborgs and will get back to you as soon as they can.
**** 2010 – I understand that there are people out there that will only eat stuff that grows and not consume beast meat. In hind site we should have all worked together on a less meaty option. Although vegetarians are important for both our economy and are as important to the land as a cabbage, it is ok to eat meat sometimes. I have been working on a way were we can just cuts slices off an animal and cook them but let the animal heal so that it grows some new skin back. When I say that I am working on a way of doing this, I actually mean that I am just going into fields and cutting animals. That will be our little secret.****
Leo Sayer, what a guy. Only 7 inches in height and with the girth of two and a half grey field mice he was easy to transport to the Starbucks near Dunnes Store (better value) in town.
On my way to meet him, I spotted a ball of brown cotton wool. It was one of the strangest things I had ever seen in my entire life for that day. The fluffy ball was blowing around the ground outside Lush and was choking on a greasy sausage roll. At this point I began to think about how nice it would be to have a ball of brown cotton wool to take home and give to Panda. I flipped my arms out in preparation to grasp at the fluff and put it into my pocket. As I got closer I realised it was actually Leo blowing around like a dirty hairy ghost.
He rubbed some of the wet looking pastry from his microscopic facial cheeks and offered his hand in preparation for a hand shake. Not wanting to be rude, I thrust out my own hand in his direction, slowing down as a gale force wind was created by the speed of my hand, almost blowing his flesh off his bones. His hand clasped around my index finger and shook with such enthusiasm that I was almost thrown from my feet and through the window of Lush.
“Sorry,” said Leo, flexing both of his arms in front of me. “Sometimes I just can’t control the guns.”
“Very nice,” I said. I was lying. They looked horrible. One of his arms had a really massive vein going through it that made me feel dizzy.
I walked into Starbucks with Leo sat on my shoulder. Leo was singing a little song and telling me how he and Nelly Furtado were going to be doing a duet. I patted his head reassuringly, I had been looking for an excuse to touch his hair. It felt like smoke.
Sat down and sipping his coffee, Leo began to tell me that he and Vinnie Jones had met up in a pub and Vinnie had began to go on about what had happened one day after drinking tea. Leo said that it was as if something clicked in his head and an incident that had affected him over forty years previous to that meeting with Vinnie suddenly kicked his face.
I looked out of the window and saw two boys fighting over a shoe before asking Leo to tell me more. Those boys were really going for it. One of them was biting.
Leo, (or Gerard as his mum and dad know him) knocked his coffee all over his slippers but seemed to be in a trance as he told me his story.
The date was 1843 and he and his friend Edward Dune were preparing for the school nativity. Leo was playing the manger and Edward was playing one of the manger doors. They were both keen singers and performers and had decided two minutes before the show that they were going to spice the show up with an impromptu dance and song.
The crowd were quiet and watched in content admiration as their sons, daughters, nieces, nephews, friends and myths, acted out the traditional piece of theatre that showed the birth of Jesus. Backstage, Leo had been eating a block of Stilton and some Edam that were to prove a disastrous pair of ingredients to be mixed with the mystical and often devastating powers of tea.
He explained that as he reached the last gram of cheese a thirst, like none he had ever come across before, tore through his larynx. There was a choice between bottled water or the contents of a tartan flask. Being a rebel, Leo was drawn to the tartan.
Leo explained that he was in agony at first as the tea went down his throat and had closed his eyes. As he opened them he found that he actually existed in two places at the same time. One place was the back of the stage, the other, three hundred years into the future.
Leo said that this only lasted a few hours and that he was unable to move the whole time. All he could do was observe. Later, he found that whilst he was in his state everyone could see him clearly but his hair had moved six or seven inches backwards and down his neck.
When I asked him about the future he told me that everyone is slightly different. You can read more about Leo’s version of future events in my book Can Tea Really Make You Invisible? when it gets released.
Before I go any further and we look at this week’s problem, I received an email from Grahame Barnett who wanted to know if I have ever read ‘Mongrel Magazine.’ My answer to this is no, not until yesterday. I decided to take some time out and pursue this magazine online. My heart was already full of excitement at the prospect of a magazine dedicated to the love and nurture of mixed breed dogs. I have no dogs of my own but me and ‘Simply’are still positive will continue to try.
So, mongrel magazine came up on my screen and all my hopes of this ‘mixed dog breed’ magazine were destroyed like so many useless porcelain hammers. So, once again answering your question Grahame, yes I have read mongrel Magazine. I was disappointed. Sorry I didn’t reply to you sooner but by attaching a fly swatter to my face with superglue in a bid to stop direct sunlight hampering my work actually hampered my work.
Don’t you forget to keep sending your worries and dilemmas into me through the WIG. I read every email and respond to each personally and without the aid of any laboratory analysis. Think of me as a cheesy coleslaw when wanting to enhance a ham sandwich, a mintish paste for your teeth when you teeth have become offensive or a massive cave full of computer equipment, a car, a jet and a boat, when you are a man that likes to dress up as a bat and has to fight guys that do jokes, riddles and penguin impersonations.
My wits are yours to taste.
Dear Zelda,
I hope you can help me. I have found myself in the middle of a really strange scam that has left me impeded. I can’t do anything properly any more and people keep laughing at me!
I had just got home from a busy day in my job at GEM and had put the television on. By the time I get home, Master Chef Goes Large is usually on. I wasn’t too hungry as I sat down to watch the program but as I watched a woman fill a duck with horse meat, roll that in goose fat, bread crumbs, egg and then fry it for 3 minutes on the back of two beef burgers, my hunger had become irrepressible. Not entirely sure what I was going to cook I took out all the ingredients I had and put them on my kitchen worktop. What was I going to have!? Burger and Soup? Soup and sausages? Maybe even soup and cockles? I looked at the kitchen work surface, my heart filling with dismay. A jar of lemon grass stared back at me.
I tried to make the best out of this bad situation and fried some of the lemon grass and set it on a plate to cool down. I put about an inch of the lemon grass into my mouth and almost gagged. Whilst in mid gag I realised that my freezer was full of ready meals so I could just have one of them.
I could hear my phone begin to ring from the front room of my house and decided that it would be interesting to see who was on the other end of the line. I didn’t recognise the voice at all but what I can say is that his voice was so soft, it was like warm creamy milk pouring into my ears.
“Hello there Miss Middersweatson,” said the voice. “I am pleased to tell you that you have won a prize!”
I tried to remember a competition that I had entered and eventually came to the conclusion that I hadn’t entered any.
“I have come to the conclusion that I have not entered any competitions,” I said with confidence.
The man replied to me in an even milkier voice and explained that the prize was as a result of me being in the right place at the right time. This seemed more than genuine and I accepted his reason for me being entitled to the prize. He told me the address I needed to go to, a time to be there and that when I got there I would be given my prize, which was an I-Pod.
Two days later I arrived at the venue and was greeted by a well built man with really fat baby-like hands. When He spoke I knew right away that he wasn’t the same person I had spoken to on the phone as there was a distinct lack of dairy in his voice.
We waked into a room that was pitch black. The man slammed the door behind me, leaving me alone. I began to panic but then I noticed another door just up ahead of me that appeared to lead outside. As I walked towards this door a rush of air shot from a tube into my face. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I stepped through the door and back into the street, angry that I had been made to look like an idiot. An idiot without an I-pod.
The next morning, when I got out of bed I walked into the bathroom, washed my face and looked into the mirror. That was when the penny dropped. This was all some big strange scam. Please help me Zelda, I have a really big pod coming out of my eye and I am too embarrassed to come back to work until it is gone.
Nicola Middersweatson
Dear Nicola,
You have come to the right person. The eye-pod scam has been going on for many years throughout the world and has only just reached these shores recently.
This scam started in Egypt in 1923 under the watchful eye of Anubis the god of the dead. People would often leave Anubis’s house with tiny little growths on their eyes that would grow into large pink veiny pods that dangled over their eyes.
Just like back in the 20s, nobody even knows what the reason is behind the scam and why eye-pods were even invented.
A similar scam involving free Lego resulted in thousands of people ending up with warped legs that went completely around like wheels. People literally had, what looked like, large hula hoops instead of legs.
Historians have traced the Lego scam back to the 1930s, the times of Zeus. This scam was made redundant after it was found to be quite pathetic when up against the more amusing eye-pod.
Eye-pods grow from seeds and are usually transferred to a person through a tube filled with air and seeds. They can also be passed on from a person suffering with an eye-pod who is blinking really hard against a non sufferers eye.
Eye-pods are only temporary and fall away from the eye without any damage to eyelid or the face. The area that the eye-pod was attached to will almost certainly be painful for a day or two so it is absolutely fine to rub butter into the wound to ease the pain.
Cosmetically, eye-pods are not pleasant to look at and most people find them repulsive and even offensive. One way of making this temporary situation a little more fun would be to paint the eye-pod so that it looks like you have a tiny little ball shaped man attached to your eye. Kids will love it and you are sure to get a smile when you are walking through Belfast on Saturday.
A few tips to avoid the various eye-pod scam:
(1) If your phone rings do not answer it. Never answer your phone ever again. Really! Ever!
(2) If you do answer your phone and it is your mother or father or another person you know ask them for proof that they are who they say they are. These scam artists can put on funny voices that may confuse you.
(3) If you are in a shop, such as Boots, do not let sales assistants spray perfume near your face and eyes. The chances are that you will be in pain and you might have an eye-pod the next day.
(4) Whilst in pubs, try and keep your face away from the backs of chairs or the floor. Not always easy to prevent from happening but one day you could wake with more than a hangover.
(5) When handling monkeys do not allow them to put their fingers in your mouth.
(6) Try to fight the urge to feed ducks. If they become enraged or excited they may peck at your face or flap their wings in your direction. Ducks carry the eye-pod gene.
(7) As mentioned earlier, do not let anyone, even if they do not have a visible eye-pod, flicker their eyelids against your eye. You’ll probably get an eye-pod or an eye infection.
If you live your life around these tips you need never need to worry about eye-pods.
Lots of love,
Zelda
Most people that have had eye-pods will go on to develop AIDs. And, until they find a cure, that condition is permanent and humiliating. For more information on AIDs watch Philadelphia where Tom Hanks does a kiss with Antonio ‘Puss in Boots’ Banderos.
Saturday, 6 March 2010
First problem published in the WIG March 2006... yes over 20 years ago!!!!
When I first started my job in GEM (Global Email Company for those who do not know what GEM stands for)(oh, which is a call centre type place in Belfast where there is a great deal of purple) I noticed many a sad face skulking around the corridors, sitting in the toilets and loitering in the smoking areas. Tears careering down cheeks, anguish darkening the atmosphere like a cloud of dirty spiders. A stench of dankness blistering the very nostrils of all that came near-by. I may have been imagining it but I doubt it. I had always worked in the Agony Aunt industry and so I decided that I would see if I could sort out a few of these problems for people. There was certainly no ulterior motive for my plan. It wasn’t and isn’t even a plan. I just wanted to help the poor lost souls that got in my way.
At first I thought I would just go around and ask people, right at their face, what was wrong. I would go over to them and take hold of one of their delicate little mandibles and say, “Oh, you look sad, what’s the problem?” and they would weep and the problem would fall out of them and I would say, “Orr, that’s pretty bad *insert advice* ok?” and then they would leave, beaming and content. I would be a little more satisfied.
Problem with this method was that I was only able to deal with one person at a time and seeing as was doing this in work it meant that it had a detrimental effect on my work stats. My manager, who will remain nameless for a number of reasons, began to get a little angry, pissed off even, and so I needed to find another method of reaching out to the lovely, delicious members of GEM. That was when I happened upon the WIG, which was being run by a lovely hunky Danish man named Michael Jensen (possibly got the spelling of the name wrong here but what’s in a name?) and Seana McGuire. I had a meeting with the two of them, told them their fortune, did some random predictions for them and began my work with the staff of GEM via the WIG. The WIG is an internally distributed magazine that arrives via email every Friday into the inbox of all of the staff in the company. It was through this that I began to collect and harvest the problems that came my way. Through the WIG I could deal with more than one problem at a time as the emails came flooding in. I could even look at them in the comfort of my own home. My husband at the time ‘Simply’ Gary (you will learn more about him as I add stuff to this blog) used to get a little frustrated because it interfered with his magic tricks, but I never let that get in the way of my work with the lovely delicious people in GEM.
So, without further ado here is the very first GEM/WIG published problem that I dealt with all those years ago in March 2006. It’s a much smaller text compared to the epic stuff that is published these days in the WIG but like a friend of mine once said, “size is important, small things tend to be disappointing. Disappointment is soul destroying. It can leave you with heartburn and can also make you feel desperate to draw attention to something which is bigger. That is why I have had breast implants on the side of my face and pectoral implants on the palms of my hands. Shit, this was a really bad idea. I am in pain every time I just try to lift something. Seriously, just lifting something like a pot is sheer agony. I wish I didn’t have small hands or a small head, and then I would never have got these implants. I was a fool. I guess it is best to just settle with what you got and wait until the inevitable happens and just hope you come back as a really big head and handed creature.” And how right she was.
Dear Zelda,
Two months ago I was sent home from work early because I had forgotten to wear shoes and had injured the bottoms of both feet quite badly. My boyfriend is a milkman and, as he starts very early in the morning, had finished his shift by the time I got home. I knew there was something not quite right because there was jam on the stairs and a pair of boxer shorts. I could hear a noise coming from upstairs so headed up and in the direction of the sound. I began to get more and more suspicious as I stepped over a further four pairs of boxer shorts and even more pastry. When I reached the top step I noticed the noise was coming from my bedroom. The bedroom door was slightly open so I peered inside. My heart sank immediately. My boyfriend was laying on the bed, topless and was kissing a cherry bakewell. There was icing all over his face and a little bit of jam on his nose. I opened the door and he jumped up immediately. He assured me that it was nothing serious and that it was the first time he had done anything like this.
It took me a few weeks our relationship was soon back on track, better than ever in fact. However, last week, while I was changing the pillow cases of our bed I found crumbs under my boyfriends pillow and I swear I could smell some cherry too.
I just don’t know what to do. Should I confront my boyfriend and ask him about it or am I being paranoid.
“Mary “
Mary,
First of all, let me say every week letters come flooding in from not only women but also men whose relationships are being threatened by cakes and desserts. You are not alone. You need to talk to your boyfriend and tell him about he crumbs you discovered. You may find that it is simply dandruff or some other scalp problem.
If the cake is still the factor ruining this relationship, how about forcing your boyfriend into eating bakewells every single meal time? Eventually, he will not be able to look at a bakewell without feeling nauseous. Then you will just have to pray he doesn’t fall for the very attractive trifles you can get in most large supermarkets.
Love Zelda
x
At first I thought I would just go around and ask people, right at their face, what was wrong. I would go over to them and take hold of one of their delicate little mandibles and say, “Oh, you look sad, what’s the problem?” and they would weep and the problem would fall out of them and I would say, “Orr, that’s pretty bad *insert advice* ok?” and then they would leave, beaming and content. I would be a little more satisfied.
Problem with this method was that I was only able to deal with one person at a time and seeing as was doing this in work it meant that it had a detrimental effect on my work stats. My manager, who will remain nameless for a number of reasons, began to get a little angry, pissed off even, and so I needed to find another method of reaching out to the lovely, delicious members of GEM. That was when I happened upon the WIG, which was being run by a lovely hunky Danish man named Michael Jensen (possibly got the spelling of the name wrong here but what’s in a name?) and Seana McGuire. I had a meeting with the two of them, told them their fortune, did some random predictions for them and began my work with the staff of GEM via the WIG. The WIG is an internally distributed magazine that arrives via email every Friday into the inbox of all of the staff in the company. It was through this that I began to collect and harvest the problems that came my way. Through the WIG I could deal with more than one problem at a time as the emails came flooding in. I could even look at them in the comfort of my own home. My husband at the time ‘Simply’ Gary (you will learn more about him as I add stuff to this blog) used to get a little frustrated because it interfered with his magic tricks, but I never let that get in the way of my work with the lovely delicious people in GEM.
So, without further ado here is the very first GEM/WIG published problem that I dealt with all those years ago in March 2006. It’s a much smaller text compared to the epic stuff that is published these days in the WIG but like a friend of mine once said, “size is important, small things tend to be disappointing. Disappointment is soul destroying. It can leave you with heartburn and can also make you feel desperate to draw attention to something which is bigger. That is why I have had breast implants on the side of my face and pectoral implants on the palms of my hands. Shit, this was a really bad idea. I am in pain every time I just try to lift something. Seriously, just lifting something like a pot is sheer agony. I wish I didn’t have small hands or a small head, and then I would never have got these implants. I was a fool. I guess it is best to just settle with what you got and wait until the inevitable happens and just hope you come back as a really big head and handed creature.” And how right she was.
Dear Zelda,
Two months ago I was sent home from work early because I had forgotten to wear shoes and had injured the bottoms of both feet quite badly. My boyfriend is a milkman and, as he starts very early in the morning, had finished his shift by the time I got home. I knew there was something not quite right because there was jam on the stairs and a pair of boxer shorts. I could hear a noise coming from upstairs so headed up and in the direction of the sound. I began to get more and more suspicious as I stepped over a further four pairs of boxer shorts and even more pastry. When I reached the top step I noticed the noise was coming from my bedroom. The bedroom door was slightly open so I peered inside. My heart sank immediately. My boyfriend was laying on the bed, topless and was kissing a cherry bakewell. There was icing all over his face and a little bit of jam on his nose. I opened the door and he jumped up immediately. He assured me that it was nothing serious and that it was the first time he had done anything like this.
It took me a few weeks our relationship was soon back on track, better than ever in fact. However, last week, while I was changing the pillow cases of our bed I found crumbs under my boyfriends pillow and I swear I could smell some cherry too.
I just don’t know what to do. Should I confront my boyfriend and ask him about it or am I being paranoid.
“Mary “
Mary,
First of all, let me say every week letters come flooding in from not only women but also men whose relationships are being threatened by cakes and desserts. You are not alone. You need to talk to your boyfriend and tell him about he crumbs you discovered. You may find that it is simply dandruff or some other scalp problem.
If the cake is still the factor ruining this relationship, how about forcing your boyfriend into eating bakewells every single meal time? Eventually, he will not be able to look at a bakewell without feeling nauseous. Then you will just have to pray he doesn’t fall for the very attractive trifles you can get in most large supermarkets.
Love Zelda
x
Friday, 5 March 2010
It's Saturday Morning - Even if the day says Friday
Good morning people. Well, I have finished putting together an article-piece-bit of problem solving in preparation of it being published in next weeks work email 'magazine' the WIG. The person that I helped, a certain Mr Stretchmarks, had a case where he had come face to face with some bad eggs.
I have already forwarded the advice to the poor little lamb but have found out last night that he is in fact dead now. Suppose, at least my advice may have relaxed him somewhat. Then again, it is possible that he became slightly more frightened and passed away in a really humiliating fashion. Probable small amounts of urine and other fluids. I can't be held responsible if the person passes away after my guidance. I am giving my advice to you all with good intentions and I am not getting any such 'brownie points' for all the souls that end up with the devil or Satan. That would make me evil. And I am good!!!!
love Zelda
x
I have already forwarded the advice to the poor little lamb but have found out last night that he is in fact dead now. Suppose, at least my advice may have relaxed him somewhat. Then again, it is possible that he became slightly more frightened and passed away in a really humiliating fashion. Probable small amounts of urine and other fluids. I can't be held responsible if the person passes away after my guidance. I am giving my advice to you all with good intentions and I am not getting any such 'brownie points' for all the souls that end up with the devil or Satan. That would make me evil. And I am good!!!!
love Zelda
x
Monday, 11 January 2010
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