dear baldmonkey

Dear baldmonkey,
I’ve got some sort of insect bite on my stomach
What home remedies do you suggest, or do you have any favourite remedies that involve no actual medicine?
Harry

The thing that hurts with insect bites is the teeth that get left in your flesh. You can’t see them because insect teeth are very very very small, but trust me, they are there. They burrow into your skin and keep going. If they hit bone they fuse with it and start to grow and you end up looking like the elephant man. Fortunately, most of the time, they pass straight through causing little hemorrhages in your internal organs.
To get rid of the sting, you have to get rid of the teeth. Rub yourself in sugar; this will rot the teeth away and the stinging will stop. In some cases the teeth are too set in and the sugar doesn’t work, the best thing to do in this case is hang around some wasps. They like teeth covered in sugar and will come and remove them for you before doing a little thank you flying dance.

Dear baldmonkey,
I’ve just got a new girlfriend who has just laughed at my cock. We’ve been going out together now for a few days and last night she agreed to having full CUTM sex (cock up the mimsy). We had just got back from a lovely night out. Up to the point of getting undressed we had enjoyed a lavish night out. I took her to meet my friends at the workingman’s club, had a few games of darts and pool, (she’s not very good at either btw) All my friends were quite impressed with her norks (38 D) and all had a turn on them. At first she objected, but that’s women for you. I gave her a small slap, which women respect and quite enjoy as I am led to believe and she stopped complaining for a while. Big Dave the landlord was particularly impressed with her funbags and had quite a long go on them. He even fished one out for a close up inspection, which she passed with flying colours, so what all the fuss was about in the first place beats me.
On the way home I treated her to a small doner kebab and a Panda Pop and warmly and lovingly walked the three miles home in the rain with my hand cupping her chuff like feeding a pony. We got in and I made her a nice cup of tea. FFS baldmonkey, I even used a NEW teabag. Eventually I declared my need for a shit and on my return I asked if we could have sexy tiems, to which she agreed, at least I think she agreed. She still had the wadding in her mouth to stem the flow of blood from the slap she had to be given earlier, so I can’t absolutely guarantee she agreed, but her head moved so I took it as read. I told her to strip off and lay on the bed with her legs open and to brace herself, as I fancied going in dry. This she did and a couple of minutes later I spluffed in her hair. How was I supposed to know she had spent a fortune at the hairdressers that afternoon? I had done everything a man is supposed to. I even closed the bog door to stop the smell of my shit wafting into the bedroom. I’d even turn the sheets over to the clean side and spayed some Mr Muscle around the room as I confess to it being a little fusty in there. You know how it is, the washing machine broke down two years ago and I haven’t got round to sorting out the washing yet. As I stood up to put my overalls back on, she looked down at my cock and laughed. What a fucking cheek! I’ll have it known I have a mighty fine cock with a lovely bulbous plum end, which when tickled can expand to over four inches long FFS!
I had to go and fetch some more wadding as I think I must have opened up her gob wound again. I’d just about had enough of her rude behavior by now, so I kicked her firmly in the cunt, and threw her out onto the street, but not before she agreed after a few more slaps to do the washing up which only took her an hour, the lazy bitch. She called me this morning to say she had left behind her watch and knickers. I’ll e-bay the watch but I just wanted to give you first refusal on the knickers. Women huh!? I’m taking her fat sister out tonight. Please can you give some advice on how to impress her? Or do you think I’m doing OK on my own?

I can’t be bothered to read all that. It’s probably all a load of lies about genitals and sex. You want problems? I’ll give you problems; I’m trying to get a high quality internet problem page off the ground and all I get are shit letters about genitals and sex. I need genuine human misery if I’m going to make a career out of this, but all I get is this bollocks.
The answer to your problem is probably rub some cream on it or Plymouth.

Dear baldmonkey,
I left my home to drive to work and the car stalled completely a short distance from the house. When I went back to the house my wife was in bed with the bloke form next door. She says that she just felt neglected and that she wouldn’t do it again. I feel betrayed and don’t think I can trust her again. What should I do?

Check your spark plugs. If they are dirty, try cleaning them. If this doesn’t work, you may have to replace them. If you are still having problems, get a new set of HT leads and swap those over. Any difficulties after that should be dealt with by a mechanic.

Dear baldmonkey,
I have been trying to create an army of Stalins in my spare time, but have been met with nothing but failure and a cardboard box of dead cats with poorly made moustaches glued to their faces. Can you suggest where I am going wrong? Or, if not, suggest another dictator to emulate in my garden shed?

At last, a decent question. Try snapping the front right legs of a bunch of horses and binding them so they heal in a Hitler-salute. You should be able to marker pen in the moustaches easily enough. If not, you’ll find a square of electrical tape works.

Dear baldmonkey
I am a soldier sent from the future to give the world a message; a warning about a terrible biological holocaust that will see nearly 70% of the human population wiped out, and civilisation brought to its knees. I have the knowledge, the tools and the proof to prevent the horrific catastrophe from happening, but I am so obsessed with touching my own nipples, I haven’t had the time to deliver my message. I just sit in the house all day, admiring, touching, playing with them. What am I to do?
Col. Jack Fantastic

Cut your nipples off. Then eat them. Then your legs. Then your parents before they produce you. You fucking useless bastard. I bet you write for White Dwarf magazine and think it makes you good. I hate you.

Dear baldmonkey,
People tell me I’m weird because I have a preference for extremely tall and thin men. I like them lanky! I’m bursting for a beanpole! I’m moist for a mantis! People say I’m mad, but I think I’m an under-represented and persecuted minority. Am I normal? Will this affect my benefits? Is benefit fraud really as reprehensible as tax evasion, or do we only judge it as such because we’re biased against the lower classes?
Sincerely,
A. in Archway

No, you are not normal. You probably want a thin boyfriend so you can pretend you aren’t fat it is just that the contrast with him is so strong.
No, it won’t effect your benefits, you will remain too fat to leave your house and get work.
Yes, benefit fraud really is as reprehensible as tax evasion. Worse in fact. Why the fuck should I work for a living to pay for you to sit around eating pies and watching Jeremy Kyle so you can pretend the guests are worse people than you?
I wouldn’t worry about your sexual preference though as you will never have a boyfriend, you hideous fat mess.

dear baldmonkey
i work in the co-op in Portsmouth and have ginger hair.
i seem to fancy every fucking piece of skirt I know, apart from one mong at work.
who is the best person to masturbate over?
mr x, portsmouth

You work in the Co-op. You are unable to use the shift key to capitalise letters correctly. I’ve seen the sort of sour-faced, inbred troglodytes with barely functioning brains that work in Co-ops. I’ve seen them get confused by conversation above the level of a Roger Red Hat book. Thank god all you want to do is masturbate all over someone. Just never have sex; the risk of reproduction is too great.
The best person to masturbate over is a young Felicity Kendall with chocolate sauce on her vagina.

To really help you with this, I’d need to know the cause of your aching shoulder, but your email isn’t very specific so I’m going to have to read between the lines.
You are saying, I assume, that you had been out for a cycle ride when the weather turned cold all of a sudden. Looking around for shelter, you spotted a public swimming pool. Swimming pools are always fairly warm so you popped inside for a while. You sat in the spectator’s gallery. It was mother and toddler lessons that morning and you watched these scenes of happy family life with glee. At first. Then you started noticing all those mothers with their big wobbling bosoms jiggling about in their swimming costumes, soon you were daydreaming of the swimming lessons your mother gave you as a child. She’d hold you securely at arms length. You felt so safe back then and all you could see was your mother’s heaving tits. Back in the real world you became aware that you had an erection and started rubbing it through your cycling shorts. But then, one of the mothers noticed you and assumed you were a paedophile harming himself to the sight of kiddies in swimming costumes. You dived out of sight to the floor, landing awkwardly on your shoulder. You managed to crawl out of the building without being seen again. Your shoulder was a bit painful and you knew you should rub deep heat on it as soon as possible but your bike was gone. You had forgotten to lock it up in your hurry to get warm. By the time you had walked to a chemists, your ache was too set in to your shoulder to do anything about.
The solution is simple then, get a car and stop cycling, you fucking hippy.

It’s difficult to think of any act which would fall into this category. I’d say amoral. Or something like that. Either way, you are a moron for getting hung up on such an issue. Some people have real problems, you know. Like Jim Davidson. People like you are worse than cancer. I say this regardless of how charitable or selfish it might seem.

Dear baldmonkey
I have a problem with my sat nav. In the past it has always been very polite to me but of late is has started making rude remarks. It also seems to be trying to kill me by urging me to go faster at main road junctions.
Do I have a case for claiming a refund?
Thanks in anticipation.

Your problem is probably not the sat nav unit but some form of mental illness involving paranoid hallucinations. This is probably being caused by the American government who are secret testing a brain-ray on you. The big clue is that this computer isn’t even real. You are staring at a blank space and tapping away on an empty desk. The people you live with are just guards. They are laughing at you outside the door.