Agony Aunt: Politically Incorrect
They’re back, they’re disgusting and they’re just as insightful as ever. L&L, we missed you.
Dear L and L
I have a fantastic girlfriend. She’s uber hot. I mean it. Breasts, backside and totally open to bukkake. I mean, I have totally fucking hit the jackpot. Even her face gives me a semi – I have to tuck it into my waistband. She’s also well into putting out, she’s got a sexual appetite bigger than those bonobo chimps and their massive cocks. So what’s the problem? She’s a massive Tory. Right, I can almost get past that. Almost. It’s just that, as soon as she pipes up about cutting tax credits, saving £17 billion in waste, pretending to like the gays and keeping those immigrants out, my cock shrivels smaller than the baby sundried tomatoes in Sainsbury’s. I got her to shut up about it, but now, every time we start fucking I can never get to the end. A minute in, her face disappears and there’s David Cameron with his massive moobs, floating above me like a slimy orange condom, sweating gently on to my chest. It just does me in. And if I even try to get any further, he slips into a twinset in pearls and I have to spend two hours in the shower washing the Thatcher off me as I weep. What do I do? I wouldn’t even mind if it was Clegg and his sparkly eyes, or Brown, even, because I’d just want to give him a hug and tell him it’d be over soon. Jesus, even Dick Griffin would be better – he’s hilarious. But Cameron, ugh, I can still feel the residue.
Pissed of Pembroke
Have you considered that her true blue fascination runs a bit deeper than merely right-wing politics? Has your lady come home sporting a freshly inked tattoo of your initials (although to be fair she doesn’t sound like the type to tat that tush)? Have you suspected that she has been replacing her daily pill with blue smarties, in a sly bid to tie you down with her fertile Middle England womb? She hasn’t “ironically” changed your relationship status on Facebook to engaged, has she? These are telltale signs that she wants your hand (preferably clutching a flaming torch, we all know that wanky environmentalist scribbly tree logo is pure bullshit) in marriage. Haven’t you heard? The Tories love marriage. They’ll even throw in £150 for you to put up with mediocre sex, joint bank accounts and soul-sapping trips to B&Q for the rest of your life.
If, however, you don’t suspect that it’s not just financially advantageous matrimony she’s after, your problems run even deeper. After all, political differences have ended the most fairytale of romances. Jordan left Peter when he decided to lend financial support to the Green Party. Her cars guzzle gas like she guzzles cock. The story that Heat didn’t want you to know is that fur farms proved to be the catalyst to the Chris Brown/Rhianna split when one of their arguments regarding her outlandish wardrobe choices ended in an assault charge. He loves minks so fucking much that he’ll fuck you up.
But what about UKIP? Just like bruises are a tear-inducing mix of blue and purple, so is Eurosceptisism! If she hates kilograms, metres, cappuccinos and the French just as much as she hates dirty immigrants, L and L bet that she’ll love UKIP. Wean her off Cameron’s teats and into the arms of the common sense brigade. Then the question comes down to whether your Cameron dreams go away and you see her pumping you like a pneumatic drill or Dave’s condom-cheeks melt into Nigel Farage’s frog-features and it’s him lolloping his tongue round your personal vegetables. Can you live with that? But is she really a Tory? Hey, if she hasn’t asked you to go up the backdoor she isn’t a true Conservative. We all know that public school makes you like it in the ass. Still 100% true blue? Dump her. If you’re as red (or yellow or green – hey we’re assuming you’re some deodorant-less sandal-wearing lefty) as you say you are, find yourself someone your side of the spectrum. What about Harriet Harman? The way things are panning out, she’s going to need some consoling and you sound like the man to teach her the real meaning of ‘scandal’.
Dear L and L,
Every week of term, I read your feature. Every week, I find myself offended. You seem to have little regard of polite language and are happy to be as potty-mouthed as possible to pull in your punters with your seedy ‘advice’. I say ‘advice’, but it seems to be flippant, populist and often, violent. You have an immature attitude to sex, promote homosexuality as well as exoticizing foreigners and their dirty sexual practices. Frankly, I am sick of it. I come to The Tab for balanced reporting of Cambridge news, in addition to insightful opinions and features. These ‘Agony Aunt’ pieces, I feel, are a departure from The Tab’s respectful style. You are, in my opinion, likely paedophiles. What are you going to about it?
Livid of Lucy Cavendish
You are, in our opinion, a total fuck-tard and quite frankly we simply do not care. It is quite evident that your hymen is still intact, and just because your sexual exploits stop at your cycle to lectures doesn’t mean that L & L don’t provide a valuable service to the debauched and adventurous student population. Basically, you need to lose your big V, and only then will you be able to truly appreciate the insightful work that we do. You need to loosen up, and we mean literally. Right, we admit it, we don’t care about love, we’re not big on foreplay, we don’t care if it bleeds, and we really only draw the line at urine: we do not claim to be the people who can light your sexual flame. We think your only solution is virgin school.There’s nothing like watching a weedy, quite creepy virgin thrust his limpy cock at a wrinkly old rape hag…I mean sex “expert”, to get you inspired and soaking through your M&S multi-pack cotton knickers. Go on, find some acne infested geek in the maths department and get your freak on. All else fails, find a stick and sit on it, shut the fuck up and leave us alone you boring little prude. Hey, at least we’re not as fucked up as this…