Agony Aunt: Desperate People.

Dear L and L,

I’ve got a weird wanking problem. I just can’t help copping one off to cookery programmes. And please, don’t tell me I need to date a fat bitch who wants food in the bedroom. That stuff freaks the fuck out of me-I like clean sheets and in all honesty, I just don’t have the time to deal with some high maintenance princess. So it all started with that whore Nigella. When she licks icing off her fingers like a slightly overweight slut, I can’t help but get rock hard and throbbing. When she basted that turkey for her Christmas special I spaffed before you could say “domestic goddess”. I thought I could handle it, but things quickly got worse. Next it was Delia and her hard boiled eggs-I thought it might be ok because she’s into football and shit but the 2 Fat Ladies soon followed. Don’t get me wrong I HATE fat chicks but the sight of Clarissa skinning a rabbit got my pulse boiling. I’ve now resorted to breakfast television live cooking sessions-that stuff is cheap, rushed and the camera angles are all wrong. Blending, dicing, braising, giblets-it all gets me weak at the knees. Even the thought of Gordon’s cavernous face makes me want to go and grab a tub of Vaseline…please help.

Raw of Robinson.

L and L will not hear a word against Nigella. It doesn’t matter how many made-up adjectives she uses in her confusing books. We like her Boden-bedecked children in her Habitat-furnished, pleasure-mansion. It doesn’t matter about her fictional ingredients only found in Hades and grown by toothless Swedish orphans, because that lady has got some rack. She’s 50, but if L and L ever were to run out of shelving space, we’d know where to place our ornaments. Want to be beautiful and ageless like Nigella? Eat exclusively cake. And be born beautiful. But, baps of fury aside, let’s be serious here. You’re ill. Gravely ill. L and L can make you better. First, limit yourself just to watching the programmes, don’t ‘cook along at home’ unless you are a total fuckwit. L and L don’t want to hear you’re caught in a garlic press or that you’ve whipped your own man-cream. Second, watch the Hairy Bikers. Sure, they’re funny, they’re northern, they’re loveable, their recipes are no-nonsense, practical and tasty, but they’re an absolute mood-killer. Check the S&M forums if you want: they love leather, they love the Hairy Bikers, they love sex, but they’d never put them together. Just think about it. Even if Si King (The Geordie one that doesn’t make shit jokes) is licking cream provocatively off his index finger into a raunchy camera angle, nothing is going to be rock hard down there. Nothing. You’re always on standby in case the other one (and his shit jokes) whips his belly out again and they both go skinny dipping for the third time that episode. There’s always that fear, especially when they’re using goose fat. It’s akin to waking up to find Paul and Barry Chuckle going ‘to me, to you’ with your scrotal sac. You should after these two steps, be cured. If, after all that, you’re not, there’s one final solution: chop your cock off. You don’t deserve to have one.

L and L

Dear L and L,

So, yeah. Everyone’s, like, talking about your feature, so I just HAD TO write in. I can’t believe we’ve not met yet, we should like TOTALLY go for coffee. We could even go to that Indigo place if that’s what you indie kids like. I’m just, like, dyyyyyyyying to get to know you and add your number to my BB. So like, I’m totally having trouble finding a man. I want a real man, you know? Someone throbbing with the common touch, if you know what I mean? I want someone who’s experienced real life, got a few girls pregnant, worked down a mine or has a mental disability – I mean whatever it is they do at a comprehensive school to get their GNVQs. I just want one. He’s got to be from Newcastle, ‘cause I just love that Yorkshire accent, yeah? And a rapper, but they’re all rappers, aren’t they? All the men on council estates are rappers, I’m sure someone told me that. I’m sick of hunting, I’m sick of poetry readings, I just want to try a kebab. Anyway, where do I find a man like this? I’ve been searching everywhere: The Union, the Pitt Club, St. Johns’, Kambar, Classics Faculty, the Shop, you know, everywhere where anyone who’s anyone is. All the guys there are all so normal. They’ve all got names like Edmund or Jozef, it’s so dull. I want a man with a real name like Dave or Trent. But, just where are they? So, like, yeah. Help me out.

“Common” from Christ’s

L and L would like to applaud you on your strong desire to branch out of your comfort zone. It is really very brave and admirable of you. Well done. After all, poor is cool. First of all, you’ve come to the right place; L and L are common as muck. One of us sat our GCSE’s beside a pregnant chick. Fact. The other used to play ‘buy one, get 16 free’ after school, or as you would call it: ‘stealing’. Another fact. Did you know that Cambridge University is actually full of Northern folk? You might have even sat beside a Scot or a Welsh boy in one of your lectures. Yet another FACT. So we recommend that you start your search a bit closer to home. Try hanging around the kitchens in college – real kids actually have to cook for themselves. They can’t justify a midweek trip to Midsummer House (taxi there and back, darling, it’s so far it’s almost rural!) so you’ll probably find them rustling up some Sainsbury’s Basics pasta and cheese on a Tuesday night. Alternatively, try and convince your drinking society president to swap with a college football team. Everyone knows that football boys are massive chavs. L and L guarantee that half the team will have flat vowels, west-country burrs or speak English creatively, and you will definitely spot a few diamond earrings. Plus football boys have EXCELLENT sex lines, any rugby boy would be dead jealous. If you want to go the whole way and get an uneducated bloke you’ve got to get a bit more extreme. Ditch the Barbour, block dye your hair, get a tongue piercing and use daddy’s money for a fuck-off boob job. Pikeys love trash. Once your velour, diamante-encrusted look is complete, spend your Saturday night in Spoons, drink pints of Strongbow and get your vag out.

L and L