Michael Cargill

Regular updates of sarcastic and irreverent nonsense.

Tag Archives: advice

The return of Nurse Ratched

nurse ratched‘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.

Health advice, with physician Dr. Lemon

Hello, dear readers! A warm welcome to you all, with astethoscopen extra warm welcome to those who are permanently bed-ridden with no chance of recovery. I trust your bedpans have been emptied and your sheets aren’t too soiled? I often get people asking me how I manage to look so fit and healthy all the time. Well, the secret is simple: cleanliness! All over my house there are alcohol-free anti-bacterial soap dispensers that I use every time I move from one room to another. It means there are no bedroom germs in my bathroom and certainly no garden shed germs in the kitchen. I always make sure to have a quick rinse and a shower after I have a bath – there is nothing worse than ruining a nice soak by standing up and covering yourself in your own muck again.

Dear Dr. Lemon

Last week, I sprained my ankle when I was doing the gardening in my high heels. This isn’t something that I normally do but I had locked myself out of the house and the secateurs where in my handbag anyway. However, no matter what medication I take, the pain and the stiffness won’t go away. What do you advise?

Ouch! Sprained ankles are indeed a nuisance not least because it can be awkward trying to balance yourself as you brush your teeth or when waving away a persistent wasp. I would recommend regular warm soapy rinses for this troublesome joint of yours. The body thrives in a clean environment, so if you happen to have a small oxygen-free tent that you can rest your foot in I suggest you make full use of it. Be sure to have a bath and a shower before leaving the house as well.

Dear Dr. Lemon

Recently, I have been suffering from awful toothache despite the fact that I rarely eat anything that is sugary or sweet. I have been to the dentist but he can’t see what is wrong. What do you advise?

Deary me that sounds terrible! A sore mouth makes it hard to order a coffee in the morning, especially when trying to explain to the server that you want them to use the specially sterilised cup that you brought out with you. First things first, make sure your wife isn’t using any cheap discounted lipstick – some of the chemicals that go into budget cosmetics are frightfully dirty. I would also recommend that you make frequent use of steamed flannels like you get in some Indian restaurants. This opens your pores up, allowing your body to cleanse itself. Lastly, make sure you keep your mouth closed whenever you have a hot shower; the steam will be chock full of grime and muck and you don’t want any of that nonsense swirling around those unbrushed molars of yours.

Agony Aunt Nurse Ratched

Hey thernurse ratchede my little friends. I have been away for a few months; did you miss me? I damn well hope so or you’ll be getting a dog turd sandwich sent to you in the post. My daughter paid for me to have a Swedish massage the other week. The masseuse was a big, muscular guy so I asked him to do me hard. I could tell he was holding back on me so I asked him to do it even harder. It still wasn’t hard enough so I throttled him with the towel.

Dear Nurse Ratched

I have been having money troubles lately, and now the bank have written to me demanding that I pay back my loan or they will send the bailiffs round. What should I do?

Well deary, perhaps you should pay what you owe? You could always get a second job doing something useful like shoving iPhone owners in front of buses. But don’t you worry about those bailiffs, they are human just like you and me and their soft vulnerable flesh is just as susceptible to a well-placed rubber mallet as everyone else’s. I suggest moving to a house at the bottom of a cliff so you can roll huge boulders onto their big fat heads if they come and bother you. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

Sometimes when I buy Satsumas from the greengrocer’s they are dry and full of annoying pips. I have tried talking to the owner but he says he can’t do anything. What should I do?

Perhaps you could try a less stressful fruit like a banana – with any luck you will slip over on the skin and smash your stupid head open on the floor. What I suggest you do is collect up all those nasty pips until you have a whole load of them. Then take them down to the greengrocers and toss them onto the floor so he slips on them, and as he lies there on the ground nursing a broken leg use a pencil to shove the pips into his ear. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Q&A with British athlete Linford Christie

Hello and glinford christieood evening. Sorry about the mess, but I dropped a steroid needle in this here haystack of shoelaces that I’ve been trying to untangle. No doubt the last time you saw me was when I was roaring down the racetrack at the Olympics. They were good times but I am much more snazzy and sophisticated when I run these days – a bit less ‘roidy and a bit more tidy. It’s out with the lycra shorts and in with some nice Marks and Spencer cardigans.

Dear Linford

My son will be starting secondary school soon and I want to know whether he should take his own lunch or have school dinners. What do you suggest?

A man should never let someone else handle his lunch, it’s uncouth. My lunchbox is practically part of me and I never let it out of my sight. If I have time in the morning, I will give it a good thrashing in the sink to shake off any crusty residue that has managed to build up during the night. Sometimes my wife will slip in a juicy bit of lettuce under the meat when I’m not looking, which always gives me a big shock when I put it in my mouth and take a big bite! Trust me, your son would never get that with school dinners. His lunchbox is worth its weight in gold.

Dear Linford

My hands are very sensitive to the cold and I often get chilblains just from popping out to the shops for a loaf of bread. What do you suggest?

Your best bet is to find somewhere warm to put them. Personally, I tend to stick my hands down my trousers when they get cold. You would surprised at just how much warm flesh there is down there for your fingers to latch onto. My hands have a life of their own and seem to have no problems finding the warmest nooks and crannies to settle into. Sometimes they even manage to knit themselves a nest!

Q&A with Harriet Spinster from Mumsnet

Hi there, sisters. Just taking a break from spying on my husband (SOMH) and enjoying a slab of my favourite chocolate (FC). Last weemumsnetk I accidentally let my guard down and the bastard showed his true colours again. He came home late from work – no doubt because he’s having an affair with every slut in his office whilst I slave away looking after the house – and I made him cheese on toast for dinner. Although he thanked me and kissed me on the cheek, I could see in his eyes that he wasn’t actually grateful in the slightest. I was more than prepared to make him two slices of toast but there just wasn’t enough cheese left after I had cut the mould off. It also wouldn’t have hurt the bastard to buy me some flowers (IWHHBBSF) once in a while.

Dear Harriet.

The other night my husband woke up went to the toilet and then came straight back to bed. He fell asleep again without embracing me and telling me how much he loved me. It has also been at least two months since he last bought me flowers. Am I being unreasonable in expecting that sort of thing every single day?

Mon Cherie, you’re not being unreasonable at all and your husband is clearly a complete and utter bastard. I dread to think how many affairs he is having behind your back and you should ask for a divorce immediately. Actually, no. Don’t ask – you damn well TELL him you’re getting divorced. He has brought all this on himself so there is no need for you to ask him for anything ever again.

The thought of him standing there naked in the middle of an orgy of whores and sluts, pounding and thrusting away for hours and hours, is too horrible to imagine so just don’t think about it. Cast any thoughts of him laughing, joking, and having sex with women other than yourself out of your mind. All those other women, they are sluts, bitches, and cows.

Honey, I am so sorry. You should have a nice bar of FC and think about chopping his dick off.

Q&A with a pair of Adidas Samba trainers

Hey there my hip and hapadidas sambapening friends, it’s good to see you again! I have been trapped inside a shoe box for a while which is why you haven’t heard from me recently. I couldn’t even get a signal for my mobile phone either, it was dreadful, although I got pretty good at that Snakes game. Somehow a bee got inside the box with me and it drove me potty with all its buzzing around everywhere – I was bloody glad when it tried to sting the lid and ended up ripping its own arse out.

Dear Adidas Samba trainers

I’m having trouble with my gas supplier. They keep overcharging me and I don’t understand their website instructions on how to do a gas meter reading myself. Can you help?

Why yes, of course I can! I’m no expert on utility suppliers myself but I remember the large-breasted woman in the factory where I was stitched together knew all about these things and she would get Jimmy, the local IT bod, to do the gas readings for her. She had a bad back so couldn’t do it herself but Jimmy was a real whizz with that sort of thing. I’ve sent the woman a text message asking if she knows Jimmy’s number but she hasn’t replied yet. Miserable bitch, I hope her tits fall off.

Dear Adidas Samba trainers

I need to know what sort of t-shirt to wear down the gym. Should I go with a cheap cotton one or the more expensive ones that draw the sweat away from the body?

Hmm, good question. My only real experience with t-shirts is from the factory when the rejected ones were torn up and turned into shoe laces for me and my chums. Most of the time they were just cheap imports, but occasionally a box of unwanted Calvin Kleins or Ralph Lauren tops would come in – anyone who got a quality set of laces like that has really hit the jackpot! If you’re really strapped for cash you could perhaps wear a black plastic bin liner. Although it’ll leave you sweating horrendously, it helps enormously with the weight loss… you fat tosser.

Nurse Ratched returns

Hello, nurse ratchedonce again. These last few weeks have seen a rather severe cold snap hit the UK which means everyone has been turning their heating up to full strength. Me? I don’t need to waste money on that sort of thing as I get a nice, warm glow every time I remember that there are people slipping over on the icy pavements. I often sit there cackling with laughter for hours at a time meaning I save money by not having to turn the TV on either.

Dear Nurse Ratched

My iPhone screen has cracked but the people in the Apple store won’t repair it as I didn’t take out the extended warranty. What should I do?

First of all let’s be clear: every single person who works in an Apple shop is, without exception, a complete shit gibbon. Normally I would laugh at your plight but in this instance I’ll make an exception. Please note that I am not actually sympathising with you, I just hate Apple store employees more than I hate pathetic creatures like yourself. First of all, gather up some mud and put it in a display case. Then stand outside the Apple store and announce that you have some of Steve Job’s pre-cardiac arrest shoe scrapings. Make sure you record all of this as I want to hear the sound of bones snapping and vocal chords squealing when the inevitable stampede starts. This leaves you free to pop into the shop and acquire a brand new iPhone. Just for a laugh I suggest that you burn the place down as well. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

In the office people keep using the same spoon for the sugar and the coffee, meaning the sugar bowl gets clogged up with bits of dried coffee all the time. What should I do?

Quite frankly the people who do that sort of thing should be flayed every single day for the rest of their miserable lives. Now, have you seen the film Die Hard with a Vengeance? The bad guy makes bombs by combining two chemicals that are explosive when mixed together, although I have no idea what they are or where you can get them from. Perhaps you could ask Bruce Willis as he seems the sort of level-headed chap who knows what’s what. He managed to dump that skinny Demi Moore wife-bitch of his so he’s no doubt an expert on this kind of thing. Replace the sugar and the coffee with these two chemicals, and the moment anyone tries to use the same spoon in each bowl the entire kitchen will be blown to smithereens. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

More horoscopes with Beauty Baggins

I got a new mobile phone the other day and what a marvellous little dhoroscopesevice it is. I can take photos of my penis and stick them up all along my road at night. I overheard some people talking about it in the local shop this morning. I crept up on them, hoping to hear tales of anguish and outrage, but they thought they were pictures of walnuts! Stupid bloody old people.

Pisces, Taurus, Gemini

There is going to be locust storm in your area soon and I recommend putting bin liners up in the trees to try and slow them down. You might want to cover yourself in double-sided sticky tape as well in case the swarming starts when you are out getting some milk or whatever it is you buy in that shifty-looking shop on the corner. Seriously, why does everyone always walk out of there holding a brown paper bag? Doesn’t make sense.

Cancer, Leo, Scorpio

How often do you eat a banana? Once a day? More than once a day? You beast! No wonder my local Tesco keeps running out of them. Cut back so the rest of us get a chance to enjoy this potassium-rich treat. I don’t like kiwi fruits so have one of those instead. You can even use the skin as a fake beard if you are that way inclined.

Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” so the saying goes. Yeah? Well my niece was sick all over me at the weekend and it would have been much better if she had done it in a bush. It’s one rule for the 17th century philosophers and another rule for the rest.

Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries

Mickey Mouse? Bloody Bastard more like. I had to wear a costume for a kid’s party once and after about 30 minutes I passed out due to the heat. How come Mickey himself never had this problem? Disney must have had the squeaky-voiced twat jacked up on drugs and ice cubes or something. It would certainly explain the smile that was etched permanently on his face.

Nurse Ratched New Year

Hey ho, people. Yes, nurse ratchedit’s well past mid-January so the year isn’t new anymore but I have been away; been busy. A band of roving gypsies recently turned up on a village green and so I was called in to help get rid of them. It was a lovely little place actually and they invited me along to Sunday service at the church. One of the choir members ruined it by singing out of tune so I decided to burn the entire village down – the sound of their screaming was marvellous.

Dear Nurse Ratched

After gorging on cheesecake, beer, and cheese over the Xmas period, I put on a fair bit of weight. I have been trying to shift it and get back down to my normal size, but I am finding it difficult. What should I do?

First of all, you should utterly ashamed of yourself. I recommend sleeping outside in the garden for a week or so, preferably next to any rabidly aggressive ant colonies that may be in the vicinity. With regards to weight loss your arse is no doubt a heavy beast so I recommend sandpapering it down a bit. It will sting at first but it won’t be long before your body’s natural pain suppressant kicks in. If it doesn’t kick in then you will probably pass out and slip into a coma. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

After gorging on cheesecake, beer and cheese over the Xmas period I put on a fair bit of weight. I have been trying to shift it and get back down to my normal size but I am finding it hard. What should I do?

Okay sonny, you’ve made me angry now. Did you think I wouldn’t notice this? Do you think I’m stupid? I hate queue jumpers, I hate gluttony, and I hate you. Although I hate everything by default but you have managed to actually piss me off. I will make sure your car never starts; your socks will always be odd, just like your face; your hair will always be on fire; dog shit will be a permanent feature on your doorstep and you will never, ever be able to use a hammer and nail without bludgeoning your fingers into a useless pulp. You should kill yourself.

Nurse Ratched in festive spirits

Good morning. Everyonenurse ratched keeps telling me that it is the season to be jolly and thankful and I agree completely. It was only yesterday that I gleefully watched as an elderly person slipped over on some ice. It is ample punishment for wearing such unsuitable shoes and hopefully they will learn a lesson or two. The replacement hip might be a bit pricey, mind.

Dear Nurse Ratched

I bought the turkey, the vegetables, and the gravy stock for Xmas dinner, but my husband has refused to help with the cooking. He won’t even peel the carrots! What should I do?

Xmas is a time for families so this is the perfect opportunity to humiliate your feral beast of a husband. Swap his sherry for a mixture of lemon juice, vinegar, and battery acid. Then introduce him to Aunt Geraldine, the self-righteous and heavily religious relative you see twice a decade. When his inevitable gurning and spluttering starts she will be offended at what she believes to be an attempt at flirtation; she will be spraying mace in his face and setting off her rape alarm within seconds. The police will take approximately ten minutes to arrive which gives her ample time to slice his testicles into a dozen little strips of ham. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

Dear Nurse Ratched

Every year I drop hints to my husband that I want something nice, cute, or fun for Xmas, yet he only ever buys me pots and pans. One year, he even bought me a Zippo lighter despite the fact that I don’t smoke. What should I do?

We need to teach this awful, awful man a lesson. On Xmas morning make him breakfast in bed and coat each one of his cornflakes with ex-lax and smother his toast with Night Nurse. Lead him out into the garden under the pretence that you have a nice surprise present for him and then leave him in the shed. Within a few minutes he will fall into a deep slumber from which he won’t awake for days and he will be swimming in a quagmire of his own selfish shit the entire time. If that doesn’t work you should kill yourself.

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