I am delighted to hear you are out of hospital and recuperating in the Drakensberg after that nasty incident with an asp.
As I was driving to your offices this morning in my pink Cadillac to dispense more advice it occurred to me that your readers are a deeply troubled group of women. I wondered if it was because of an unhealthy mix of fantasy in the reality of their lives.
One theme, in particular, has come to my attention and that is the kissing of frogs in the hope they will turn into Prince Charming. Especially concerning was a letter from one Khosi Ngwenya (any relative?) who seems to have an affinity for smooching amphibians. The problem here is simple because she also reveals that she is a doctor. Now it is obvious to me that if any idealised young hero was clever enough to have taken on the guise of a pond crawler they would hop a mile when approached by someone who learnt their trade dissecting his brothers in biology class.
This reminded me of a story I was told by my mother. Once upon a time, a smart, independent, self-assured princess (sounds very much like the average SenseOnline reader) came across a frog in a pond. The frog said to the princess: ‘I was once a handsome prince until an evil witch put a spell on me. One kiss from you and I’ll turn back into a handsome prince and then we can marry, move into the castle with my mom, and you can prepare my meals, clean my clothes, bear my children and forever feel happy doing so.’
‘I don’t think so,’ laughed the princess, later that night, as she dined on frog’s legs.
The first cry for advice that I will deal with this week is on a related topic:
Q: The other night my slimy husband hopped into bed after trawling the Women24 sex site and croaked into my ear that he would like to try the Frog Position. I managed to muddy the request with pretences of a headache, but I am sure that now he has that fly in his sights his fetid pond ardour will not long be dampened. What should I do? Emma, Midrand.
A: Dear Emma. I am forwarding you Khosi Ngwenya’s details. She would be delighted to teach you some basic toad dismembering techniques. You will need a scalpel. Must hop along, Trinity.
Q: I am getting to the age where I dream of something hard and throbbing between my legs. What do you suggest? Nonti, Alberton.
A: Dear Nonti. A Harley-Davidson. Must roar off, Trinity.
Q: What is the difference between a boyfriend and a husband?
A: Dear Sheena. About 25 minutes. Have to rush, Trinity.
Q: I was walking along the beach the other day when I spotted a lamp. I picked it up, rubbed it and out popped a genie. It granted me three wishes, but it told me that it did not approve of the fact that I was divorced. So whatever I wish for will be granted, but my ex-husband will get the same things, tenfold. I have been given a week to compile my list. Please give me direction. Khanyi, Nelspruit.
A: Dear Khanyi. My experience with genies is to be careful what you wish for, but I will try and be as helpful as possible. My first two suggestions would be for a private game lodge in the Sabi Sands area near you and R100-million in cash. The conservancy is big enough not to have to worry that your ex will have much more than you and the cash should keep you comfortable. The third is more challenging, but I would request a mild heart attack. Keep the lamp burning, Trinity.
Q: My boyfriend wants me to be more erotic and my husband wants me to be more kinky. What is the difference? Phuti, Greenside.
A: Dear Phuti. Erotic is using a feather. Kinky is using the whole chicken. Cock-a-doodle, Trinity.
Q: Why is it so hard to find boyfriends who are sensitive, caring and good looking? Judith, Paarl.
A: Dear Judith. Because those men already have boyfriends. Be gay, Trinity.
Q: Why do men name their penises? Angela, Craighall.
A: Dear Angela. Because they want to be on a first-name basis with the person who makes all their decisions. Dickey up, Trinity.
Remember, a conscience is what hurts when all the other parts are feeling great. Keep your letters flowing.
Trinity Crimp
