Ask The Assassin … an expert’s advice.

Many of you darling bloggers and blog readers out there will be aware that a common theme employed by internet posters is that of the pseudo-advice column. Every country has one of these real honest-to-god ‘experts’, be it a magazine columnist or a TV personality (often a big oxymoron), who dispenses life changing advice to the unwashed masses who feel the only way to solve their most intimate and vexing problems is to air them to the entire public in the hope of finding some vague validation or their poor life choices. So, intrigued by the idea of getting to pry into other people’s lives without a ski mask and a ladder, and spurred on by the thought of a free blog topic involving absolutely no research on my part, I recently issued a challenge to you, my adoring fans (cough.), to send me your dilemmas for my expert (cough again) evaluation. And my god, did you all ever respond. My thanks to those who failed to make the cut due to repetition, lack of interest, laziness on my part or potential legal issues – good luck finding help elsewhere.

Not written by me…..

Fortunately, it appears that the majority of you are messed-up little freaks with a host of mind-bending clusterfucks in your lives. Here then follows what can only be described as the most fun I have EVER had sticking my nose into other people’s business. Some of you requested anonymity, and I have respected that where requested. Others have no shame, and have included their identities and links so you can track them down and laugh openly at them. I encourage you to do so – it’s good therapy for them, helps toughen them up. Let’s lead off with an email from a smart and sassy lady with a sad story of addiction…….

Dear Social Assassin,

I suffer from this thing called Bad Boy Syndrome and it hinders my ability to be attracted to a nice, normal, regular guy. Well recently a couple of nice guys have asked if they can stop over for a beer or two (or 5) and I am having a difficult time even picturing it in my head because I already assume I will be bored to death and turned off. Yet, when I picture the last bad boy I had an affair with, I can feel my juices start to flow! I am in some sort of self-sabotage, self-fulfilling prophecy where I have convinced myself that good boys all suck and I won’t like them, so I don’t even bother trying to meet one! I even told one that I would have to be wasted drunk in order to even introduce myself!! And he was OK with that.  So what do I do? How can I force myself to leave the bad boys behind and find a good guy that will worship me in all my fabulousness?
Where the FUCK is prince charming?

Dear Where the FUCK,

Your addiction to the archetypal ‘bad boy’ probably stems from a need to compensate for the mundanity and repetition in your daily life. I suspect that your addiction to the kind of man who at any moment might be caught in your laundry room getting a hummer from a Filipino crack-addict is your way of over-compensating for what you perceive to be the boring mindless daily grind of being a full-time supermom and caring for your children unsupported. Whilst a nice guy might well help take care of the kids and ask about your day, none of this is particularly exciting or daring – you’re looking to blow off some built up tension goddamnit, and you want a man who’ll ride you like a bucking bronco then toss you like a used tissue. You want EXCITEMENT!!

I’m a bad boy me. Respec’.

Here-in lies the solution to your problem. If you seek out and are endlessly hurt by couldn’t-care-less Badboys because it brings welcome relief from the more structured and unavoidable side of your life, then you need to spice up your daily life. Go shopping at the mall naked. Punch a nun in the face. Speed through intersections with your eyes closed. Offer your priest a hand-job during confession just to see his reaction. In short – live dangerously. The wilder and potentially lethal new lifestyle will provide so much adrenaline and excitement that at the end of the day you will welcome the chance to come home to someone who wears sweaters in summer and cares about your kids educational development. And possibly has leather patches on his jacket elbows. A man who offers to make you lemon tea and give you a foot massage is the perfect counter to having just streaked the local baseball game. During Little League.

Dear SocialAssassin,

I love my husband to bits, but he has a most annoying habit I’m finding it hard to deal with. When he gets home from work late at night and undresses for bed, he throws his dirty socks on the floor. Right next to the laundry basket. Not only do I find that unforgivably lazy, but it then means that I have to pick up his smelly foot apparel. Since he sometimes works twelve hours a day constantly on his feet in a hot kitchen, this can only be safely accomplished whilst wearing a full biohazard outfit, for which I have no matching shoes. How do I stop him from being such an inconsiderate fool?

Yours faithfully, Mrs SocialAssassin.

Some socks, yesterday.

Dear Ungrateful of England,

Your husband sounds like a very hard-working man, who doubtless finds that ridiculous twelve-hour shifts are the only way he can afford to pay the mortgage and utility bills and still keep up with your wasteful addiction to pretty sparkly shoes. Perhaps you should offer some kind of incentive scheme to encourage him to be more fastidious. Three days successful laundry depositing equals a blowjob before work, and a weeks worth involves that thing with the celery and the dwarf. Or try mounting a basketball hoop above the laundry basket – men love the opportunity to succeed at ridiculously easy sports to validate their manliness. Either that, or place the bloody laundry basket somewhere well-lit so he can find it without treading on the cat or stubbing his toe on your shoe mountain.

Dear Mr S Assassin,

Please could you help me fix something.
I got myself into a small dilemma at the weekend when I got caught out shagging three different women… by the three different women in question. They’ve communicated, swapped stories (and notes), and have generally just discussed all the unpleasantries that I have befouled them all with. I’ve been shouted at, struck, sworn at, spat at, and various other unpleasant things and words have been hurled at me.
My question is…
Where can I find another three gullible enough to fall for my fine line of bullshit?
Mr R Uth.

(names have been changed to protect the guilty).

Taking the word ‘slut’ to a whole new plateau…

Dear Mr Uth,

Firstly I can see why you requested anonymity on this matter. As a professional I shall of course respect your wishes, and not include this link in my response. Firstly, let me observe that I’m surprised to find you sexually involved with the class of woman who didn’t see this revelation as an opportunity for a foursome involving some hot girl-on-girl action in a bath of Vaseline. You are clearly screwing above your station. That said, you clearly have a problem, and one which I am most unwilling to help solve directly, since you have a reputation for being willing to copulate with anything regardless of appearance, sex and even species as long as you can penetrate it. Have you considered allowing Jesus into your life?? No, scrap that idea, you’d end up tainting the whole basis of Christianity when the National Inquirer prints pictures of you and Jesus in a titty bar in Tijuana. Perhaps you should try Catholic all-girls schools, I understand they are a hot-bed of sexual promiscuity and poor moral judgements. Or perhaps the local societies for blindness and mental health issues could point you in the right direction for a small fee. No, not payable in penis, I’m afraid. Ah sod it, failing all else man, private e-mail me – I know of this hot mamma just outside New York who’s addicted to bad boys, ….. and she has sisters.

Dear Social Faggot,

My problem is that there’s this blogger who seems to think he has the right to diss someone he has never met, and be disrespectful to someone who has millions of fans worldwide. Without knowing what the fuck he’s talking about or doing any proper research he has published on the internet an article slagging off a highly successful actor and humanitarian who donates millions of $ to charity every year, and is constantly involved in trying to make America a safer and more eductated place. I’d like to know how I can find out where this cocksucker lives so I can go to his house and kick several tons of shit out of him to teach this fucking homo a lesson. Any advice on where I can find this nasty little cunt and beat the fucking shit out of him????

Yours, anonymous.

Yew shure are purdy, boy.

Dear Brian Wilkins of Daphne, Alabama, USA,

First, if you’re going to be a hater, do it from an email address that doesn’t contain your full name you muppet. Secondly, way to mis-spell the word educated – perhaps you should have spent more time actually attending school, and less time watching Steven Seagal films whilst interfering with your sister. As for tracking down this highly intelligent and, frankly, physically huge former security guard and prison guard, turned chef and part-time writer, I suggest you use one of his email addresses to ask him directly. If he’s as angry as I think he is about narrow minded people who are openly homophobic and aggressive I’m sure he’ll not only publically out you to the whole internet, but positively welcome your attendance at his house thousands of miles from your home amongst his closest friends, where he can call them round to watch him turn a gob-shite idiot into minced moron. Bring Seagal with you, it’ll save me him time.

Dear Mr SocialAssassin
I have some questions for your advice column. You can thank me later.
I’d be stoked just to get one on your column.
Question 1: Why do men have hairy ass cracks?
Questions 2: Do you think the world is going to end at the end of 2012?
Question 3: How do you scratch your vagina in public without anyone noticing?
Question 4: Why do my farts smell worse after a feed of KFC?
Question 5: Who pooed in the bush outside my work?
Question 6: Who do you think will win the rugby world cup?
Question 7: Have you ever spat/put your pubic hair in anything you’ve cooked?
Question 8: Has Jody Neil Ruth really rooted half of England?
It’s 10am Sunday morning & I feel like my body is trying to drown me in snot..
I have been sleeping in the recovery position just in case.
Peace out homeboy & hug your wife for me.
Dear Becky,
Thank you for asking me to help address your issues with being needy and always wanting the biggest piece of the pie. I’ve attempted to keep my answers short-ish to avoid using the whole power of the internet to get this post online, but felt that only by answering all of your conundrums could I fully help you reach closure. And I need you to reach closure, because then you can carry on writing funny shit with a clear head, and continue to amuse the fuck out of both me and my wife.
1. There is a school of scientific thought that claims men and women were once asexual creatures, and that divergent evolution led to the separation into different sexes – ie: the penis is just a bigger clitoris, vaginal lips are a shrunken withdrawn foreskin and so on…. if this is true, I suspect that a man’s ass-crack hair is simply a vadge-bush that was pushed out of place by the appearance of some unsightly sagging sex organs.
2. It will be sooner than that, girlfriend. Jody Ruth has just left England on a stag weekend to Valencia. I anticipate the arrival of World War Three no later than Saturday, and the total annihilation of all mankind by the time Corrie airs tea time Tuesday. Hopefully.
3. Tricky. Perhaps some sharp-clawed rodent such as a hamster linked to a remote electro-shock device??? Or sandpaper stitched into the inside of your Bridget Jones knickers?? Failing all else, the best way to pull off a public crime is, apparently, to be blatant as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. Use one of those back-scratcher devices, and when people look shocked simply say “What, this?? It’s a VadgeScratcher. I got it on Ebay. They’re all the rage in Europe. Don’t you guys follow fashion for god’s sake??”

Now available with diamante studding….

4. Because KFC is filled with enough un-natural chemicals and preservatives to keep even Dame Edna Everage’s body preserved for decades. They use the same stuff on David Hasselhoff’s face. There is no known cure beyond not eating KFC, but since one of the ingredients in KFC is crack, you may find it difficult to break the cycle of addiction. Try a daily enema with soapy liquids – no-one will notice your foul odour as they chase the pretty bubbles…..

5. It was me. Overcome with my obsession with your deft literary skills and over-use of swear words , I secretly travelled to New Zealand and tracked you down at work. Sadly, despite gazing longingly at your beautiful goddess-like amazeballs through the windows, I was unable to summon the courage to actually talk to you, but since I knew you have a bad case of coprophilia I left you a token of my undying love.
6. AARGH. Now you put me on the spot, torn between loyalty to my country and truth. I’d love to say England will win it, and I know the boys have got it in them to pull it off, but frankly we’ve been luke-warm in performance so far, and although England traditionally don’t pull the stops out until the pressure is truly on, we may well be pushing our luck in terms of focus on the field. The All-Blacks, meanwhile, have looked pretty good so far, with some poetic passing play and good spatial awareness. I may have to suck it up and concede that unless we get our lardy arses in gear soon, you guys are going to romp this one. The only consolation is that we’ll stay in the competition longer than South Africa 😉
7. Honest answers only???? OK…….yes. ONCE. Literally about three months after I started in this career twelve years ago, I had a female manager who made the queen alien from Aliens look like a nursery nurse. Never before or since have I had the displeasure of working for such an evil bitch. So yes, on that one fateful day and under extreme duress, I committed the sin of ‘hacking a greener’ (spitting phlegm) into a beef stir-fry I was preparing for her tea. I have NEVER since repeated this horrible, unnecessary and vile crime. Although watching her eat it made me feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside, like watching the Care Bears movie.
8. No that’s a vicious rumour I’m afraid. It’s actually about 83% according to current estimates, and rising daily. Despite having the kind of facial appearance that makes him a shoe-in for a role as an extra in the new Hobbit film, as an Uruk-hai, he continues to put so many notches on his bedpost that he’s already whittled his way through three beds this year.
Dear Assassin,
I really like this guy at my college, but don’t know how I can attract his attention. He’s a jock (sports player) with a big crowd of friends who’s always invited to the most popular parties and has loads of other girls always chasing him. I’m fat and frumpy, and plain looking, and only have two real friends. How can I ever hope to attract his attention and want to spend time with me???
Yours Frustratedly, Gem.
Dear Gem,
Get your tits out. Failing that, tell him you do anal and will perform unnatural acts with root vegetables. No matter how plain you are, he’s now interested. If he’s not interested, chances are he’s spending a LOOOOT of time in the showers after a game, if you catch my drift. Good luck.
So there we have it, the first ever Assassin’s Advice column. I had great fun writing this, and hope you had even half as much fun reading it. If I missed you or you’re new here, the comments section  is open for follow-up revelations, praise of my awesomeness, or new problems you need advice on. But act fast, since a slot on daytime television surely beckons me as we speak. Stay safe you lovely, messed up individuals xx

25 comments on “Ask The Assassin … an expert’s advice.

  1. Well I see that SOMEONE has missed their calling as an advice columnist!!!

    I must say, I think your advice to eradicate my bad boy syndrome seems pretty “spot on” as you British people say. I do often get antsy at night after the children have gone to bed and well, it makes sense that only a bad boy can quell this antsyness. BRILLIANT idea to get it out of my system by essential becoming a naughty girl BEFORE nightfall so that a boring run-of-the-mill sweater type will be a welcome relief. Like Chamomile tea.

    I am definitely going to try out some of your suggested therapy tools. I am well overdue for a confession so will start with that one!

    Here’s to hoping it works!!

    Forever indebted,
    Where the FUCK


    • Glad to have been of service. As you will probably be saying to a priest some time tomorrow. accept no legal implication whatsoever regarding your subseqent arrest. Please send pictures.


  2. I bloody knew it was an English poo! It was so dam pale. Loved reading this.Your advice is second to none Sir. I’d like to pay special attention to the letter from Mrs Social Assassin. Laughed my non hairy cracked ass off. My hubs lays his socks & undies on one of our lounge chairs like he’s decorating a fucking christmas tree. Drives me nuts!

    P.S I’d really like to come to your fire breathing festival but I’ve got my rag so swimming to your little English Isle is not an option. I am deathly afraid the sharks will yom me. But hear this, I do very much plan on hanging out with you & your beautiful wife one day in the future & getting completely rat arsed. ANd Jody can come too aslong as he doesn’t try to dry hump my leg or motor boat my glorious mams. My SOuth African husband is quite territorial.



    • We’d absolutely love to play hosts to you and your hubby one day – I can’t speak for Jody however, he is a law unto himself. Actually, not such a law as a vague suggestion. However, don’t let it put you off visiting us – or perhaps one day some mad firebreathing lunatic and his buxom wife will land upon your shores, in search of hobbits. Either way thanks so much for some wonderful questions that helped make this blog – your humour is off the charts, mate!! Good luck in the World Cup, too – next we face our own neighbours, Scotland. Assuming thay can stop eating battered mars bars long enough to find their way out of the pub and to the match. Which is doubtful. Still, fingers crossed!


  3. Please tell Mr. Uth that I am the ultimate female hat-trick: gullible, desperate, and totally lacking any shred of moral decency. Let him know that I’ll be stopping by with a couple of small house pets and a carton of lube.


    • Consider him advised, Jen. I’m not entirely sure you realise the depths you are about to plumb, but the consolation is I live close enough to come and rescue you when he tries the thing with the two midgets, the celery and the egg whisk. Mr Uth, I know you’ll read this in the next few days when you return from levelling Valencia on a stag party – meet Jen. She’s smart, earns more money than you, and is innocent enough to think one carton of lube is enough…… go easy on her, I kinda like her………..


  4. Thank you for the helpful information. I will be sure to bookmark this page for reference and refer back when thinking about dating a douchenozzle or allowing someone from Alabama to stalk me. Also You and Bex should do some sort of tandem writing as I am currently cleaning the piss off my chair as apparently I have early onset laughter related bladder issues.


    • Glad to have been of service Sars, it makes me feel all warm to know I helped you. Although that may well be a by-product of my own incontinence. As for teaming up with Bex, I’m fairly sure that would be like that bit in Ghostbusters where they cross the streams – I’m not sure the world is ready for a sarcasm explosion that big 🙂


        • You want the humour?? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE HUMOUR!!!!!! Or perhaps you can – anyone who regularly carries a ray gun around with them is undoubtedly ready for more than a few well-aimed puns, no matter how deadly…… (whispers – nurse, up the meds on this one…..)


  5. Enjoying the blog. I must say that you are a very brave man. Standing up to those rednecks while having the gall to criticize Stephen Seagull. I spelled it that way on purpose, OK? Because I couldn’t remember howma spell it.

    Anyway, I like your advice.


    • Thanks man, I’m loving the intentional mis-spell. Much like a seagull, the man makes annoying non-sensical sounds and spends most of his life shitting on people. … He’s my role model……


      • some really arrogant seagulls also come right up and snatch shit right out of your hand…..and claim it as their own. Jersey shore seagulls do, anyway. Sounds like that’s where Stephen may be from…..I want aother advice column. I think you should make it one of your regular themes…


  6. “Punch a nun in the face.” Now that’s quality advice.

    Great response to your fan from Alabama, by the way. How many different types of livestock do you think he’s penetrated over the years?


    • Dear Faerie – No. The inevitable collapse of their religious belief system under your influence into a 24-hour drug and booze-fuelled orgy of mayhem would be too much guilt for your conscience to take. Plus Amish are allergic to glowsticks.


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