Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.
The return of Nurse Ratched
28/01/2013Posted by on
‘Sup, y’all? Have you missed me? I sure hope so, otherwise I’ll be spiking your talcum powder with anthrax. I’ve been in a sporty mood recently, and decided to get myself involved with a local hockey club. I don’t bother with the training sessions as I don’t like it when people tell me what to do, but the pain you can inflict on your opponents with those sticks is marvellous.
Dear Nurse Ratched
It’s been snowing recently and my husband refuses to get out there and clear the driveway, no matter how many times I ask him. What should I do?
If you’re the type who likes getting their hands dirty, I’d recommend tying him to a chair and force feeding him some of the yellow snow that you always see outside Battersea Dog’s Home. Failing that, get yourself on Ebay and bid on one of those landmines that the jihadists are always trying to sell. Pop it into hubby’s coat pocket, and the next time he has to hold onto the fence to stop himself from slipping over on the ice, he’ll be blown to smithereens! If that doesn’t work, you should kill yourself.
Dear Nurse Ratched
A boy at my school has bad breath, and he keeps talking to me. I don’t want him talking to me, ‘cos of his smelly breath. What should I do?
You need to teach this little scrote a lesson, that’s what. I suggest buying some mints, and that you shove them in his gob when he is least expecting it. Use a hammer if needs be, and make sure he reimburses you as there’s no need for you to be out of pocket when seeking justice. Alternatively, you could stick a photo of him on an envelope, slide a lump of dog shit inside it and then send it to him by post. Keep doing this until he gets the message, or moves house. If that doesn’t work, you should kill yourself.