Paint

I was out for a coffee this morning with my two friends Dawn and Dolly. We call ourselves the alliterative ladies of leisure. Dawn was telling me about her Roger. He's become obsessed with painting. Not your nice canvases to hang on the wall but various bits of the house. Dawn caught him in the garden the other day painting the trunk of the flowering cherry. He said he thought it was looking a bit drab against the fence he'd just touched up. Why do men get so obsessive about things? Speaking of which, Jeremy our postie popped around yesterday with his usual bunch of letters and junk mail (I think he saves them up so he can pop in for a cuppa and to wink at me). One of the letters caught my attention as I vaguely recognised the hand writing even though it was supposed to be from a friend of Gordon (who is a friend of Richard my photographer friend) when it actually looked like Gordon's writing:

Dear Doreen,
I'm at my wits' end. I got a hang glider off the internet. She's great to look at and goes like a train gliding in prone, but is an absolute bitch to handle. Is she just a dog, or could I improve my skills with coaching? Should I get a boring old glider out of the shed instead? I've even thought of paragliding, although I hear it can make your bum sore.
I need your advice, Boyce Shitespeed


Dear 'Boyce'
 Tell your friend Gordon that he shouldn't put you up to such tricks. Thinking about paragliding makes many a hang glider flier's bum sore. I think it has something to do with devil worship and lack of bowel control.

I hope this helps, Doreen

Rigid paragliders

Terrible day today. Howling wind. What's that? Keep taking the tablets? Cheeky! No, the wind it was turning my umbrella inside out. It's in the bin at the bus stop now. Surely there's a better design? Speaking of which, I got this email today:

Dear Doreen,

Why don’t they make a paraglider with aluminium tubes in it? I for one would be the first in the queue to buy one.

Yours perplexed, Dobie Vinyleffect

Dear Dobie

This has been tried but all the test pilots ended up concussed or badly dead after the wing fell on them upon landing.

I hope this helps, Doreen.

Flying or frying

I'be god a code. 

I can't seem to shake it off. Dolly told me the best thing to cure a cold is hot fish and chips with curry sauce. I'll have to try that. Speaking of which:

Dear Doreen, 

How come, every time I go flying, I end up covered in chip oil and batter?

Yours, Jon Wishbone

Dear Jon

I believe you are getting flying and frying mixed up. Go to see a speech therapist.

I hope this helps, Doreen.

---

Dear Doreen,

How come, every time I go frying, I end up covered in cow dung and snot?

Yours, Daniel Tuneless

Dear Daniel

See above.

I hope this helps, Doreen.

Young love

I recall when I was at hairdressing college (go on - ask me anything about disulfide linkages) and pocket electronic calculators had just come on the scene. We had to do some maths (it's not all Hello magazines and ground coffee you know) and we were allowed to use these new marvels of miniaturization so long as we wrote PEC by the answer to signify we'd used a calculator. There were some thickos in that class. I remember one girl - Tabatha Speakermesh - she always wrote buggered PEC  next to her answers.  Still, it's good to know youngsters can be just as thick nowadays: 

Dear Doreen,

Down where I live there is a girl that I like. I did a love calculator and it came up 95%. How do I show her that we're made for each other? I told her I’m a hang glider pilot because I thought she’d be impressed but she just laughed. Where did I go wrong?

Cheers, Jake Mechanism

Dear Jake

Oh dear. Oh deary deary me. Love calculator… hang glider…Tell her you meant paraglider pilot and that you have an ipod touch, you dinosaur! You still won’t get anywhere but at least she’ll know what you are talking about. Thanks for the laugh.

I hope this helps, Doreen.

Roger Roger

I had a weird phone conversation today with my pal Dawn Shuntwound. It went like this: 

Hello Dawn, It's Doreen.
Hi Doreen!
I've had a letter from Roger today. I didn't know he had a degree in health and safety.
He doesn't.
Well that's how he's...
Ah! That's probably Roger's brother Roger.
Roger's what?
Roger's brother... they are both called Roger. Roger - my Roger - is Roger Robert. His Brother is Roger Roderick. Roger's parents were very keen on the name Roger. I think there was a famous Roger about at the time they were born. They are very close. 
Roger Bannister maybe? Can't think of any others. That's a bit odd... In fact Roger Roderick seems a bit odd too, judging by his letter.
Well, so is my Roger. They had odd parents. 
That seems obvious. But Roger Roderick is married to Dawn!  
I know... Silly isn't it? He married a Dawn too. Just by chance. 
How odd... Anyway I must dash. See you at the usual place tomorrow? Roger Moore perhaps? No... Too young.
 Okay. About 11? Bye Doreen dear. See you then. Byeeee!
Hey! Roger Delgado - I bet that was it! Bye.
Byeee! 

Anyhow, here's the offending letter: 

Dear Doreen
I am a Health and Safety Inspector  (B Doc Brum (Hons)) (for my sins!!). The other day I was taking a walk with my (good) (lady) wife (Dawn) on the (magnificent) Malvern Hills when I came across a bunch of people playing with what looked like (gigantic) kites. On closer inspection they revealed themselves to be what I think are known as parafidgets. I was astounded to discover that they had no (government issued) license of any kind and (furthermore,) intended to throw themselves of a (perfectly safe) hillside in an attempt to fly (these contraptions)! I decided to quiz one of these madmen, as their general demeanour seemed to suggest (a certain) recklessness. It transpired that not one of them had undertaken a proper (if any) risk assessment and that they mostly made it up as they went along. Also, not one of them had any sort of radar identity (transmitter) on them, which in my book is just asking for a mid-air collision with a (Jumbo) jet. When I asked him if he had a mission statement he just shouted "To infinity and  beyond!" and ran down the hill. Should I write to my (local) MP (about this)?

Yours in good faith, Roger Shuntwound (B Doc Brum (Hons))


Dear Roger
It appears (from this distance) that you have an over-developed risk gland. The condition which (I understand) is called Banalus Dedicatus, can be easily treated by your (local) GP. Combine this with a course of letter writing  to any MP willing to listen as this will help relieve stress.
I hope this helps, Doreen 

Recession proof

Recession recession recession. That seems to be a word on everyones lips these days. Yesterday for instance, I was just coming out of Waitrose and I dropped my shopping receipt. An elderly lady picked it up and handed it to me. "Well dear, that's the recession for you!", she said. Predictably she had a copy of the Daily Mail sticking out of her army surplus ammo sack. Silly old bat.

When I got home I picked up my emails and found this rather delightful query:

Dearest Dawreen

I understand you have knowledge of hangliding. I've never flown one. In fact I've never even seen one apart from on telly. My wife and kids and I love to go abroad for our holidays - mainly France. Lovely isn't it? In these times of recession we are going to find it a bit of a push financially to get across the channel. I remember hearing of a man who flew across the channel in a hanglider. Can you get 5 seater hangliders? If we jumped off at Dover do you think we'd be allowed in without having to land at Calais? I was thinking we could just carry on until we got to la Rochelle (lovely isn't it?) and sort out the passport stuff there. We can post our camping equipment to a predetermined campsite - I'm sure a hanglider couldn't cope with a tent too (it's an old frame tent). Hope you can guide us.

Yours, Terry Label

Dear Terry

Thanks for you email. Have you ever seen one of those pedalos on telly that people float around on? I'd give the hang glider a miss. As a bonus, I think a pedalo would take a tent too.

I hope this helps, Doreen

Yours, disgusted

Dear Doreen,

After reading Footlaunch for some time now, I’ve come to the conclusion that you don’t bother opening your letters but just make up the problems and stick your advice on the end. I’ve written to you loads of times and never had a letter published.

Yours in disgust, Brian Dinnertime

Dear Sharon,

Don’t get mixed up, believe me: it’s clear as a bell – if Yvonne can’t be trusted to stay loyal to you, you really can’t be expected to wait around for her! She’s gone away from you and there’s absolutely no reason why you shouldn’t make other friends.

Whether your special friend should be your vario is really up to you.

But remember, friendship is basically a matter of liking people (or electronic gadgets) and giving to them – stop thinking of it as a mad scramble and more as a bowl of luke-warm soup.

I hope this helps, Doreen.