 |
| Recently returned from a relaxing cruise around some rather dinky little Greek islands, Nowell, your resident and rather finely tanned agony queen tackles some summer problems. |
Dearest Nowell, I think I may be mentally ill! I have a terrible urge to swear at nuns and stick my tongue out at elderly people and policemen! And, at the age of thirty, have still not overcome a desire to knock on people’s front doors and run away, it’s such fun! I also ride my bike without lights or a bell to sound a cautionary warning as I cycle through Tesco, eat sweets until they give me explosive diarrhoea and stay up all night playing Gin Rummy with my mother’s sewing circle of friends! Is there a cure? Luv and kisses, Worried Willy. My dear worried little Willy (or is that just a rumour?) Bad news I’m afraid, I have consulted my Bumper Book Of Medical Conditions and alas, you are not mentally ill, you are in fact a Brat, category 1, there’s no stigma, no shame in it, it happens, we can’t all be well balanced sensible grown up types, thank heavens, think what a dull little world it would be, you are one of the threads in life’s rich tapestry. Your condition is incurable, but fear not my pet lamb, it isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, it’s not terminal and it can be effectively controlled by the simple means of acquiring yourself a Top. I shall forward your name to the Very Strict Top’s Bureau post-haste and hopefully they will fix you up very, very soon. I must warn you that, initially, you may have some rather unpleasant side effects, such as a very sore bottom and a soapy mouth, but in time these will disappear as you learn to obey your Top without question, apart from the odd slip of course, after all, Brats are only human, Tops are another matter…little joke there for M.O.D.L. Hugs and stuff, Nowell. x ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* Dear Mr Cowardice, I have a terrible confession to make, after twenty-five years living with my Brat, I find I’m unsettled. He’s wonderful, we work like a well oiled machine and that’s before we apply the KY Jelly, he hangs up his coat without being asked, makes dinner without catastrophe, works hard, plays hard, drinks moderately, only swears when unbearably provoked, balances his chequebook, never makes mistakes or does anything foolish, he’s tidy, neat and clean, in fact perfection, and life is dull, dull, dull…I blame myself! Yours sadly, Tom. Dear Tom, dear, dear sad Tom, Please don’t blame yourself…oh go on then, do blame yourself, because the fact is, it is your fault that your life and indeed your Brat is dull, dull, dull. However, you must keep this in perspective, you are having what we in the profession call a mid-life-fully evolved-brat crisis. You have done your duty as a Top and done it well, successfully, turning a chaotic Brat into a fully functioning, obedient machine, er, I mean human being and you feel there is nothing left for you to do, you feel useless, obsolete, outmoded, superseded and other similar adjectives. Perhaps in part, you are missing the frisky, fun-loving little rogue who used to stick his chewing gum on the bathroom mirror, forget to flush the loo and microwave pizza with the plastic wrap still on, you miss the innovative excuses he used to dredge up to explain things that inevitably earned him a trip across your knee and dare I say it, but you may even be missing the feel of your hand bouncing off his naughty little botty, your right wrist now feels limp and lifeless? It will pass; you will accept that those heady discipline days are gone and that you have entered the vanilla twilight of your life. It’s a price that successful Tops and Brats have to pay. Join a chess club together, or take up a new sport such as Bingo and enjoy the fruits of your labour…boredom. Love, N.C. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* Hello Nowell, I recently took part in an all Gay version of the reality TV show Big Brother and after shagging three of the other contestants, two cameramen, the lucky mascot, the Presenter and a couple of interestingly shaped vegetables (I was drunk what can I say) found myself falling for another of the contestants in the B.G.B. House, a late arrival, who as it turned out, turned out to be straight. He said he wasn’t interested in me and I threw a real tantrum, well I’m not used to being spurned. Anyway, he put me over his knee and spanked me, I couldn’t believe it, so I threw another tantrum and he spanked me again, well, I behaved myself after that and we became quite good mates, but I still got voted out. I can’t stop thinking about him, I think I might be besotted, should I try and contact him, I think he was gay really; I think he was just pretending to be straight to keep viewers interested. What shall I do, shall I stalk him? Love sick Carey. Dear Carey, No, you naughty lad, do not stalk him. However, I think you should contact him and ask him if there’s any possibility of you sharing a flat as just good mates, as he obviously has a calming and settling influence on you, which is all to the good given your scandalous behaviour on the show, I for one will never eat parsnips again, the home grown vegetable economy could very well collapse after your antics young man. However, I digress; let’s get back to your lovesick dilemma. If the one you are besotted with agrees to share a flat and is in fact gay as you suspect, then your love might be requited in time and you’ll live happily ever happy. I hope so. I must confess I cheered when he walloped your arse; if ever a B.B. contestant needed a damn good spanking it was you, plus quite a few others. I have written to the Shows producers and suggested that they install a resident Top for the next series and issue him with a paddle. Yours huggingly, N. x ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~* Sci-Guy Prob Pick of the week: Dear Thing, I quite understand your vexation at the continuous teasing and taunting of your fellow Superhero Johnny or The Human Torch, he is a total Plasma Brat and in the considered opinion of M.O.D.L. needs his bottom setting alight in a way that has nothing to do with personal mutagenic changes. With that in mind I shall personally write to Mr Fantastic himself with instructions on moulding his rubbery right hand into a nice broad, heat resistant paddle shape. One last thing, Thing, may I suggest a good moisturising cream for dry skin, something to help close up some of those surface cracks, try a product in the L’Oreal range, because after all, as a Superhero, you’re worth it. Ta-ta for now, Nowell, xx ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*Sponsored By Live Now Pay Huge Amounts Of Interest And Die Penniless: The reliable and honest loan company! |