So, anyway, this young Gentleman comes up to me and says "I've got this bit of a problem". Now, I didn't have anything important to do. I'd just come out of the toilet so my bladder was feeling quite relaxed and I was contented so I said "Okay what's your problem?", and he said "Well, I've got genital warts."
Well naturally I took a step backwards in case he tried to touch me or something. I did it subtly so as not to hurt his feelings; I pointed over his shoulder and shouted, "Look out, falling plane" and I legged it down the high street. I would have got away too but I recently had my veins ripped out and my pins weren't very stable.
He caught me up and corrected me on my mistake. I feigned embarrassment and told him to continue with his story, keeping a close eye on his hands which spent a lot of time down the front of his trousers so I didn't really have anything to worry about.
He said, "I am actually very embarrassed about it", and I said "Well you're talking to a complete stranger in the middle of a crowded street, you can't be that embarrassed".
He said, "It feels like people are always staring at me, like they know something". So I told the half dozen eaves droppers to push off, and said "Look dear, just tell me what the problem is".
He says, "I don't understand where they've come from" and I try to ignore his hands rummaging in his pockets. He says, "The worst thing is they've started to spread around my nether regions and whenever I walk the scabs make this terrible scraping noise. Sometimes they rip clean off and blood and puss pours down my legs. Oh and I think my helmet's collapsed".
By this time I was becoming eager to close the conversation and be on my way. I began to feel nauseous and besides my 500 metre dash had loosened my support girdle and I could feel myself starting to sag. So I said, "Look love, how old are you?" and he says 19.
At this point I felt quite sorry for him and asked him what he did and he replied "I'm a sociology student".
"Well" I says, "I think the answer's quite simple, you should seriously contemplate suicide. Either that or consider changing your course because only then would you be of any use to anyone in society.
I've got a couple of letters here from members of the audience that I'd like to read out, and I'll try to give you the best advice I can.
This first one is from [NAME]. Where are you dear? It goes like this;
"Dear Aunty (bless him),
I find it really hard to fit in socially. I haven't got any proper friends and I don't even wear a green anorak.
Nobody talks to me, nobody drinks with me. Not even my fellow members of the British public transport appreciation society. Not even the other people on my engineering course.
Please help, [NAME].
Well [NAME], you've sent me dozens of letters like this crying out for help and I think I've found a solution. What you need to do is chop off both your hands. It won't really solve your problem but it will stop you writing to me.
My second letter is from a biology student I will just call "Troubled" for now. Terrible handwriting you've got love.
You're 21 and you think you're pregnant.
I've had millions of letters like this one from at least three students, and I've given this very advice out more times than I've been caught short at the bus stop. Listen [NAME], men can't get pregnant. You've never had a period because you're not a girl, and as for the constipation, I suggest you remove the tampax from your bottom and you'll feel a lot more relieved after that.
Annie 2
Hello my lovelies, it's your Aunty Annie here to help out with a few more of your personal problems and social inadequacies. I've just got a few letters to read out and I shall try to help as best as I know how.
My first letter is from [NAME] and it reads.
Dear Annie,
I am one of life's rejects. No matter how hard I try to get on with people, they always seem to ignore me. What should I do?
Well, my next letter is a common one I get, so [NAME] if you don't stop sending me this filth I will inform the local constabulary. And for god's sake sort out your alliteration, it should be "slippery creamy quim" not slippy.
My next letter is very moving, so do not worry [NAME] I have taken your problem with all seriousness.
Dear Annie, I'm 24 and still a virgin and would appreciate it if you didn't use my real name (sorry, er, Douglas). I am an attractive, fit, heterosexual male. I do not get nervous or fell threatened whilst around women. I have no problems getting girlfriends or getting erections, my member extends to a full throbbing ten and a half inches. I have just never got around to intercourse yet. What should I do?
Well, being a virgin at your age is nothing to be embarrassed about. If you really are upset about it though, why don't you come round to my house tonight for some one on one therapy. I'm sure I could squeeze you into my busy itinerary.
My last letter is a very serious one indeed. This young man is so like many teenagers in the world today; confused, upset and disturbed. That's why this one is this week's star letter.
Dear Annie, I just can't cope anymore. To help you truly understand, I will describe my entire story.
A few years back I was a loner, desperately trapped in my own anxieties and neuroses. As a last attempt to free myself from my internal torment, I began to express my angst. A couple of friends took interest in my self expression and we started a small therapy group.
It came to our attention that we weren't the only people faced with these problems, our entire generation was oppressed by the same social, political and cultural pressures.
Being unable to involve everybody in our therapy sessions, we recorded one and distributed it with the interest that others started their own groups.
Our recorded sessions became popular outlets of aggression and emotion for our listeners. It wasn't long before the word had spread and our popularity had reached a national cult status. Our new found fame was a refreshing breath of clean air and we accepted it welcomely.
Fame has its price, I became the voice of a generation, a youth guru. People demanded so much from me that instead of continuing to release my frustrations it built on them.
I am now a drug addict and have overdosed repeatedly, much to the distress of my wife and child.
I cannot continue with this overbearing responsibility for the youth of the world. I need help now otherwise I might just end it all.
Please help me Annie.
Suicide isn't the answer. How difficult would it be to tell the world to fuck off and mind its own business. Lock yourself away for a year and say sod off to everybody else's problems.
Wherever you are Kurt Cobain, it's never too late.