Tuesday 16 April 2024

Agony Hour IV: Return of the Living Dread

Can you believe it's been six years since WordJam last took up the mantle of Agony Uncle and offered advice to the lost, lonely, loveless and desperate? Six long, happy years, dear reader. But all the while, my inbox has been bursting with the usual cries for help and guidance from those less well off than myself - and what sort of man would I be if I just dumped them all in the trash folder without a second thought? (Again.) So prepare yourselves once more for a deep-dive into the mire of emotional despair as I attempt to make sense of the follies and foibles that blight the human condition. No problem too big, no pain too personal and, as ever, no major credit cards that won't be accepted: WordJam is here to ease the burden...

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Dear Richard,

When I break wind in public I like to accompany it with an amusing comment like "More tea, vicar?" or "That's a spicy meatball!", which never fails to elicit a shocked but boisterous laugh from the people caught in the blast zone. In recent months, however, the quality of my witticisms has gone into a decline and I just can't seem to generate the same level of mirth I once did. What can I do to rekindle my flair for this cheap but limitless source of hilarity?

- Despondent, Windsor (aged 9)

Richard says...

Any comedian will tell you the secret to being funny is knowing how to work the room. You've got to make your audience feel as though they're participants on your journey into the absurd, not just by-standers whose job is to laugh at every well-placed quip you throw their way. I suggest the next time you feel like cutting the cheese in public you select someone at random or, even better, an acquaintance you have very little respect for and blame it on them. Of course, the people around you will know full well where the alimentary rumble originated, but the brazenness of this ludicrous act of projection will cause them to suspend moral judgements and make them putty in your hands. Trust me, in no time at all the sound of laughter will be ringing in your ears again and you'll be blowing off to your heart's content. I should stress, though, that you must use this stratagem responsibly. If you're in familiar company, make sure you're mixing up culpability instead of picking on the same person all the time. I learned this the hard way when I made a particular work colleague the butt of my gastro-intestinal pranking. It escalated to the point that the company let him go, his wife left him, he lost custody of his kids, his house was repossessed and he threw himself in the canal. To this day, I deeply regret it - if only because I loaned him my copy of This is Spinal Tap and never got it back.

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Dear Richard,

I'm disgusted by this blog's apparent lack of interest in environmental issues. The climate crisis is the greatest existential threat the world has yet faced, making your continued non-engagement with the subject both dangerous and irresponsible. As a gesture of goodwill, perhaps you could consider starting an awareness campaign connected to the initiative I set up last year, 'Plant a Tree in '23'?

- Pious, Islington

Richard says...

How about 'Buy a Saw in '24'?

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Dear Richard,

I have a terrible problem that's on my mind all day and giving me sleepless nights. If train A leaves the station going at 50 miles an hour, and train B leaves the station one hour later at 70 miles an hour, how many miles will it take for train B to catch up with train A?

- Clueless, Swansea

Richard says...

Perhaps the thing that's really worrying you is what this time differential represents. Do you feel that life is passing you by, or that things are happening more rapidly for other people than they are for you? It's interesting that this problem involves trains - a well-known sexual symbol - rather than another, less psychologically loaded form of transport like bicycles or toboggans. I can tell you the answer (3.5 miles), but you're going to have to look deep inside yourself to find how we arrive at that conclusion and what it means to you.

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Dear Richard,

My dog really has got no nose, and I'm fed up with people cracking jokes about it. What's more, I work on a free-range chicken farm next to a busy highway, so you can imagine the shit I get about that, too. I tell you, there's nothing funny about scraping their flattened carcasses off the road.

- Pissed, Milwaukee

Richard says...

I understand your frustration and I sympathise. I once had a girlfriend from Leeds who swallowed a packet of seeds; when I tell people this they instantly assume that within half an hour her tits were in flower and her fanny was covered in weeds, when in fact there was no change to her physical appearance whatsoever. I could get annoyed at hearing the same response over and over again whenever I tell this anecdote, but why should I let other people's ignorance of biological processes bother me? Life's too short for that. Actually, my Uncle Vic has a very empowering approach to this problem. A few years ago he was involved in a serious car accident which resulted in the steering wheel being permanently fused to his groin. When people attempt the old "Does it drive you nuts?" routine he replies, "Not when I've got turbo steering in my pants". It doesn't make any sense, but he's very popular at parties. Perhaps the next time someone makes light of your dog's impairment by asking how he smells you could retort with some blithe whimsy such as "With great difficulty-!", or even something caustic like "He wouldn't want to with you around, shithead". Whatever works for you, really. God knows, there's no mileage in walking round like a humourless sourpuss the rest of your life.

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Dear Richard,

If all things are made up of atoms, which in turn were formed from quarks released a millionth of a second after the Big Bang over 13 billion years ago, does this mean I'm related to Scarlett Johansson? Just wondering as it might impact my masturbation regimen somewhat.

- Philosophical, Sydney

Richard says...

Be honest, it's not really going to stop you, is it?

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Dear Richard,

Who exactly is Rick Astley referring to in his 1987 hit "Never Gonna Give You Up"? It can't be me because I've never met him.

- Confounded, Bromley

Richard says...

I have a similar response whenever I hear Frank Sinatra's "My Way". He never specifies what his way actually is, so how do we know it's so bloody unique to him? His way could be exactly the same as my way - or yours, even. Then again, I've never slept with Mia Farrow, Elizabeth Taylor or Marlene Dietrich, so maybe his way does differ from mine in some respects. But getting back to your question, my showbiz sources reliably inform me Astley was in fact referring to Liberal Party leader David Steel, who, alongside Social Democratic Party leader David Owen, was roundly trounced at the 1987 UK general election in his bid to establish the SDP-Liberal Alliance as Britain's second major political party. The follow-up single, a cover of O'Chi Brown's "Whenever You Need Somebody", saw Astley explicitly offering his services as a pop emissary for the Liberal cause, while 1988's "Together Forever" marks the singer's euphoria at the formal merger of the Liberal and Social Democratic parties, who renamed themselves the Liberal Democrats the following year. By 1991's "Cry for Help", however, Astley was clearly starting to lose faith in the party under new leader Paddy Ashdown, resulting in the angry ballad "Move Right Out". Unfortunately, the Lib Dems' success at the local elections that year resulted in the single failing to reach the top 20, marking the start of Astley's decline. After years in the pop wilderness, the singer bounced back in 2010 with the soft rock lament "Lights Out", which openly criticised the Conservative and Lib Dem coalition government under David Cameron and Nick Clegg. Since then, his career has gone from strength to strength, with hit singles endorsing the Remain campaign in the 2016 EU referendum ("Angels on My Side"), criticising Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn ("Unwanted") and describing his sexual adventures with middle-aged groupies ("Dippin' My Feet"). So in a way, regardless of your politics, Astley is singing about you: he's singing about all of us - our hopes, fears, yearnings and aspirations. God bless you, Rick Astley.

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...And I'm afraid we have to leave today's open surgery there, folks. Until next time, keep smiling - and try not to piss each other off too much, okay?