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Well, January was quite a ride wasn’t it?
You might have missed my updates – deliberately or otherwise – but essentially January started out a bit shit and then got slightly better. I had a few nice evenings out and I blagged myself some awesome things including a posh desk so I am basically a professional now.
The February arrived and I came down with the ‘Rona (zero stars, do not recommend) and spent my week in isolation largely baiting romance scammers and sharing wonderful advice for getting on the property ladder, a la Kirstie ‘she can shove this gingerbread house and her opinions where the sun doesn’t shine’ Allsopp.
And so here we are, almost in the middle of the month. Crikey.
Because it’s St Valentine’s day on Monday (if that came as a shock, it’s not too late to Prime your beloved something…) Aunty Fran has dusted off her keyboard, put on her advice-giving pants, and is here to tend to the woes of the world (and Westminster).
Don’t forget to submit your own problems; you never know. I might answer some, one day.
Before that, I bring to you the highlights from this week’s ‘pissing about on Facebook’
Click here to go straight to the advice, if you’d prefer.
You can click on the images to make them bigger. If you like. You don’t have to, I’m not your mum.
And so… on to the problems!
This being a romantic Valentine’s day special, we’ll kick start it with a tale as old as time; the classic office romance. Oooh! Juicy.
Dear Aunty Fran,
I’m in love with a man from work. My boss, to be exact.
I don’t know whether it’s the power he clings on to, doggedly and resolutely in the face of calls to resign from – well, most people actually – or his raw, sexual animal magnetism, but I can’t stop day-dreaming about his blotchy sausage fingers pawing at me while his gelatinous, pale, clammy flesh slaps into mine. Every time I make custard, the sound transports me back into my fantasy world.
Fortunately I have been playing it very cool and I don’t think anyone has picked up on it, but how do I make him notice me?
Oh yes, and he’s married, but I don’t expect that to be a problem. It never has been before.
Forever optimistic,
Hopelessly Devoted of Westminster
Dear Hopeless,
What an awful predicament you find yourself in Nadine.
Have you tried doing some BBC interviews about him to let him know how you feel? That’s what I’d do. But whatever you do, play it cool and don’t be weird about it.
Alternatively, you could leave a copy of your raunchy bestseller in his pigeon hole with a pair of pants inside marking the page below.
Just kidding, I read it and instantly never wanted to have sex again!
Love, Aunty Fran.
As we all know, there are always two sides to every story.
With that in mind we have a letter from Big Dog, who’s in a quandary.
Dear Aunty Fran,
I’m in quite a perfidious pickle, of perpendiculous proportions. You see, I’m married (well, a few times married actually), with a young child (and some other children, I won’t bore you with details, because it’s all a bit nebulous in the old grey cells). I live in a wonderfully decorated flat, and I have a job so secure it seems no one can take away from me no matter how much I fuck it up.
I’m not normally the type to look elsewhere for the old willy-wobbles, but there’s this bit of skirt at work who keeps giving me the eye. She’s what we liked to call a bit of a goer at Eton, and obviously likes a drink and a good time, and I’m pretty sure she’d like to get acquainted with Little Bozzer, as I call him.
What should I do?
Big Dog
Dear Big Dog,
I believe you when you say ‘Not normally the type’, although I can imagine thousands wouldn’t.
I know that good advice is wasted on you, however on this occasion I really would advise staying as far away as possible as there is at least an 87% chance that said woman will break into your house and steal your underwear.
Love, Aunty Fran.
Jarrie Conson also wants my advice on this important issue.
Naturally.
Dear Aunty Fran,
What do I do when I suspect my husband, whose track record when it comes to fidelity is neck and neck with his record for keeping election campaign promises, tells me he is going to be ‘saving the world from nuclear war’ on Valentine’s Day so we can’t have dinner out?
I really want to believe him but I am not even sure he knows where Ukraine is, and he can barely convince his own party to believe in him, let alone the Russian military.
I was absolutely fine with him fucking the entire country, but this is just an embarrassment.
Jarrie Conson
Dear Jarrie,
As much as I have some sympathy for your current situation, you can’t say the warning signs weren’t there in spades; what exactly were you expecting to happen?
If I were you (and I do thank the lord every day that I’m not) I would look to the positives; primarily that you won’t have to spend the evening pinned underneath a sweaty, writhing bin bag full of blancmange pretending to have a spiffing time.
Why not call up some of your close friends and have a party instead? You seem good at those.
Love, Aunty Fran.
And now on to more luuurve problems.
Obviously, each of these is 100% genuine.
Dear Aunty Fran,
I haven’t bought a Valentine’s Day present for years because I’ve been married and you don’t do that kind of thing do you; being with me was enough of a gift for Mrs Spamcock, as you can imagine.
This year however I have a new bit of stuff to impress – and I don’t want to fuck it up because my wife definitely won’t take me back now.
She’s a beautiful, successful woman (with excellent contracts thanks to my brief stint in the cabinet) and I desperately want to impress her so I don’t end up lonely in a one bedroom flat masturbating over pictures of Priti Patel.
Help!
Hat Wanksock
Dear Hat,
As it happens I’ve had several press releases for the perfect Valentine’s gift to show you care.
Why not get her a water dispenser? Or some stain remover? Or smoked meat? All legit BTW.
If you are thinking something more classic and romantic, a traditional bouquet could work.
Best of luck, ya stupid cunt.
Love, Aunty Fran.
And finally.
Look, if I’m not having sex this Valentine’s day then neither are any of you.
Dear Aunty Fran,
This year I separated from my ‘wife’ and now I’m free and single and ready to mingle.
I really value your judgement; would you mind looking over my Tinder profile for me? Do you think I’m going to attract the right sort?
Mum’s the word and all that.
Love and hugs,
Pob
Dear Pob,
You have the appearance of a man whose face has melted on top of a Halloween mask. I would advise you sort that out first and foremost.
I’m afraid that your profile – and to be honest, the rest of you – has all the appeal of a rotting corpse on a hot day.
However, some people are really overcome with the love of power, so you never know. Fingers crossed.
While I’m here, stop sniffing so much coke in the Westminster bogs. Everyone knows, and your mum is VERY disappointed in you.
Love, Aunty Fran.
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