PRATS - Auntie Molly
Auntie Molly's a kindly soul who specialises in helping PRATS with their
particular peculiar problems. Don't worry if you can't follow the content . . .
. it's not you, it's them others!
If you need help why not e-mail your problem to Auntie Molly, she will do her
best to reply to all problems personally!
auntiemolly@pirton.org.uk
Dear Auntie Molly,
My son, Dook, is being bullied at school. I was pleased when he won a place at
St. Pratt's Academy, and have no complaints about the teaching. Dook is doing
very well, especially in Scottish language and literature; he con even spell
"croaky" (their national game) properly now. But the other kids are
beginning to pick on him, and I think some of the staff are getting at him too.
They have taken to calling him "intellectual". Now I know that's only
a dirty word, but one thing leads to another. I'm frightened it might get
physical, and my Dook is a very headstrong boy. Although he's quick on the draw,
he's going to come off worst.
What shall I do?
Yours truly
Doris Wayne
My Dear Doris
As you know there are two sides to every story. Nothing was ever proven about
that matter with the gym mistress (and Emelda Hatherington). And that business
with Mr. Jones, the science master's haemorrhoid cream could, unlikely, but
could have been anyone. The fire, well these things do happen. So, you see, a
bit of good natured banter by the lads shouldn't worry Dook. He's alert he tells
us. OK there aren't many lerts about but I am sure Dook can look after himself.
I shouldn't worry, I am sure they'll give him back his trousers soon.
Dear Auntie Molly,
I recently spent a most enjoyable skiing holiday in France with a group of
friends and a finely honed muscular athlete whom I believe you know as Nudge
Nudge (guess who dictated the underlined bit!) The sight of him skiing backwards
through the trees, screaming "where's the brakes on these bloody
things" stirred me in a way that I 'm sure, as a woman, you can understand.
The fact that he wore a Middlesborough football club hat aroused even more
primitive passions.
Also in the party was a strange colonial chap who called himself Gym Babwe. He remained convinced throughout the holiday that he was being pursued by a penguin which he declared he could only see if he didn't It look at it. As a member of the caring profession I felt moved to help him so I asked him to draw the penguin for me (obviously without looking at it) with the idea that this might help him to confront the situation. I watched with fascination as he drew this.
Given that, as well as all of this, he spent a lot of his time trying to ski up a Mogul field -- something that his wife mastered at the first attempt with a good deal of panache -- and that, on odd occasions the penguin was alleged to be transformed into a nun, I felt moved to ask for your advice.
Whilst the nun's appearance - which he also couldn't
see unless he wasn't looking at it -seemed to be associated with the intake of
alcohol, the penguin appeared regularly at breakfast time. I am therefore
concerned about his mental well-being and eyesight, especially as he has agreed
to go on safari to Africa with me. Goodness knows what he'll see out there when
he's not looking at it!
Your advice will be most welcome.
Yours
Whiz Lawless
Dear Whiz,
Well. I must say. That is the most extraordinary letter I think I have ever
received. Clearly a plea for help. (It was also the longest when you have to sit
here doing the two finger typing). My immediate reaction is -- keep taking
the pills. -- Actually, can I have some. It must be lovely to live in that
private world of yours, totally untroubled by reality. Ever thought of joining
an organisation called the Prats? They're all much like you. They all go skiing
in the summer as well:
Dear Auntie Molly,
Don't tell me about new hips. That's a dawdle these days. Ask anyone. Posterior
protrusions are a different kettle of fish altogether. Ask Biggles. I'd like to
see you prancing about at six o'clock in the morning with an atomic bomb in your
insides about to go off.
On the brighter side however, I am now able to sit up
and take a lightly boiled Eric Clapton of a morning. My problem is this.
When I am back playing squash and golf, will they be able to claim a handicap
since I will be back in one piece again? It wouldn't be fair, really, since I
will still be Claptout in every other respect.
Yours sincerely,
Mr. L N Bigglesmate
Dear Mr. Bigglesmate,
I am confident that I speak for all when I say that we have just about had
enough of Posterior matters for the moment. This saga seems to have been going
on longer than Coronation Street. As to handicaps, they don't seem to make much
difference in the Superleague.
Don't worry, once you are back doing your usual fifteen hours a day at the David Lloyd Centre you'll be a match for any Prat. Not, it has to be said, that that is the highest of testimonials to superfitness.
Dear Editor,
I can’t tell how sorry I was when I read of the demise of Well Oiled. But are
you sure of your facts? I was dragged to a recent production of the Pirton
Players and I saw the spitting image of the late Well Oiled mincing about with
the best of them. Could it be that he has in fact constructed an elaborate
ruse "a la Reggie Perrin"? to escape the PRATS without any
repercussions.
My theory is that he is in fact alive and well and has defected to become a full-time member of our rivals, the Pirton Players. Pirton Players! Ha! Most of then couldn't hit a ball if it was scripted to come from stage left – now there’s a thought if I could just get a script perhaps my game would improve.
At first glance the only possible reason for undertaking this traitorous action is that they don’t seem to be forced (as we are) to take strenuous exercise in order to justify a Friday night down the pub. Instead, they seem to manage this by just spending long hours in the Village Hall first. Less strenuous I grant you, but it means your actual drinking hours are very restricted. However, there may be another reason! The script, presumably written by Well Oiled himself – I say this partly because he seemed to be in 99% of the production, but mostly because it required him to kiss (kiss! I mean snog!) a young and very talented! actress – poor innocent creature.
Actually by similar deduction, it is possible that the script was co-written by Keiron The Dame Jones (By the way do you think Nudge Nudge knows what his family gets up to whilst he’s in the States? He seems to think that he is escaping from them, but whilst the cool cat’s away the mice seem to play!). Anyway, this did not happen just once! And I know he was enjoying it . . . . oh come on, lets face it he was never that good an actor!
Anyway I’ve worked it out, stage kisses are known to be very difficult to get right, so obviously the director would insist that special attention and sufficient rehearsal time was given over to perfecting these scenes - especially if money was passing hands? And they’ve been rehearsing twice a week for months!
Hang about being a Pirton Player rather than a Prat seems to have significant advantages! Sorry I’ve changed my mind, don’t publish this letter.
A concerned ex PRAT
Dear Mr Anewex
I'm surprised at you. If you think that a middle aged man would prefer to snog a
beautiful young teenager several times a week for months, rather than be out
there with a bunch of hairy squash has beens, you are not the man I took you
for.
Dear Untie Molly, hic,
I have recently ginned a squish clob called the Prots, hic. Great binch of goys,
hic. Superfat, dedicated athletes to a moose. Sorry, Burns Supper creeping in
there. Forty five minuets of squish followed by three hours of buzzing, sorry,
socialising. Smishing. S'cuse me, call of nature.
Back again, Untie. Yes, I have washed my hinds.
Anyway, hang on, just liberate another little tinny. What do you do about red
noses? Not the little plistic ones that you pat on the frint of your car on rude
nees day, but a good old fashioned throbbing belter like Irish people have, hic?
Oh, oh, time to have a word into the big white telephone. That's bitter.
Anyway, is there a cure?
Yours sincerely
David C Pottie.
Dear Mr. Pottie,
Unfortunately, no, not in the short term. Prats' noses are beyond medical
science. But not to despair. As you progress up the weekly unit scale things
will improve. Your eyes will start to go and then you won't notice.
In the meantime, can I recommend Groucho Marx. Not the man himself, of course, he's right up there with the Venerated and the pink candlewick. No, rather, one of those fetching facial extensions, you know, the plastic specs with the nose and big, black moustache attached. 'Rat should do the trick for the next year or so while you become acclimatised.
Dear Auntie Molly,
I get so depressed in the winter months. I keep remembering those lovely sunny
summer evenings spent on the terrace of a beautiful French chateau looking out
over the vineyards and sipping the local produce. What can I do to lift the
gloom?
Down in the Mouth (name and address supplied)
Dear Mr. Mrs. Miss or Ms. Down in the Mouth,
Can I recommend you to a truly remarkable little known travel agency I have
found PRATS SAGA (Sun And Grape Airtours) HOLIDAYS. A wholly owned subsidiary of
an even littler known squash club in Hertfordshire, they specialise in ' Tours
des Moonies pour Loonies (This was another Prats Production).
Always alert to the main chance, PRATS SAGA HOLIDAYS have purchased exactly the sort of chateau and vineyard you are looking for, near Toulouse, complete with tractor. Bookings for short breaks or more extended stays (the PRATS Patented Corsalette, for the mature man with the fuller figure, is yet another product of this incredible organisation) are now being taken for April 1999 onwards.
Managed by the Count and Countess Alistre and La Zee de la Lune, we understand that ' every night is party night'. A full range of sporting activities is also offered including squash, croquet and high flying.
Sounds wonderful. And talking of sounds, music is also catered for with
tuition in spoon playing and bell ringing. An extra special feature, I
understand, is the ' Standing Room Only ' convalescent break for those
recovering from minor abdominal surgery.
All in all, it sounds just the ticket for you.
Chere Tante Mollie,
Je suis le proprietaire d'un lovely chateau et vignoble pres de Toulouse, en
France. Pas pres de Toulouse Letrec mais Toulouse la vine. ( Excuse' moi, mais
ou est Toulouse anyway, sunshine? Est' il pres de Toremolinos ou I' airport
Manchester? ) From Avril 1999 nous sommes ouvert pour business. Nous offer
" Party Nuit Chaque Nuit " Oh oui! Aussi, "Standing Chambre
Seulement" vacances pour les convalescents from minor abdominal chirurgie.
Savez vous any takers?
Comte et Comptesse de la Lune.
Mon Cher Comte et Comptesse,'
Alors, oui. Je pense je can help you out, la. Beacoup des PRATS sont p****d-loin
avec I'hiver Anglaise. Ils desire le soleil, le vin, le squash et le croquet
dans un lovely chateau francaise, preferably en France pres de Toremolinos ou
Toulouse. Et pourquoi pas? Savez what je mean? Je pense that je can promise
beaucoup de takers for your vacances. Stand on moi, ami. Pas de problem ' Le
squash, cependant, est un necessite' OK? Friday nuit est squash nuit pour les
PRATS. On Friday, somewhere dans la monde le soleil est pardessus le yardarm.
Vous getty mon drift?
OK. Vous est sur ! Je will pass le mot
Dear Auntie Molly,
I am very worried about my husband, up until recently he was one of the oldest
swingers in town (well Pirton anyway!), his main hobbies have included clubbing
and playing a round whilst chasing birdies. This obviously caused me some
concern, but was relatively harmless, as he never actually got any! and at least
it was a, straight, forward problem. But now I am really worried, he has given
up these hobbies and now seems to have a new love. Several nights a week
he goes off and has a gay old time with his new love . . . . Jim. I am
desperate, what can I do? Do you think I can win him back?
Roz E Wintertown
Dear Roz,
On the face of it this problem does seem serious, however I wouldn't worry too
much. Although this wouldn't be considered normal behaviour, it is not
completely unknown. It is likely that he found his lack of success in pulling
birdies, below par and this together with his lack of success in scoring with
anything under 90 frustrating. Jim is obviously a passing phase and is unlikely
to provide any long term alternative to playing a round, which after all is so
habitual and compelling for the normal heterosexual male.
Suggest that he spends more time in pubs with any friends who play golf - he
will soon get tired of not being able to join in the conversation. Also
recommend long walks over countryside, with no apparent purpose. I am
sure, as he sounds like a complete prat, that he will soon feel the need to add
a purpose to these walks, such as following a small white object. Try not to
worry, I am sure that this is only a passing fad.
Auntie Molly
PS
Are you entirely sure that this is not just a ploy to get you to buy him a new
set of clubs?
Dear Auntie Molly,
I spent an horrendous hour recently, cleaning up the Prat that my daughter, on
her walk, home from the school bus, had walked in and which had become embedded
in her shoes and walked through the house. Please, please ensure that all Prats
are disposed of thoughtfully.
Whiz lawless
20 Two shillington Road
(with apologies to the St. Mary's Pirton Magazine, January edition)
Dear Whiz,
What can I say? It's a disgrace the way these Pratowners carry on. I always say,
if you can't discipline your Prat you shouldn't have one. And remember, a Prat
isn't just for Christmas.
A genuine letter from a WORRIED WIFE
Dear Agany Arnt,
I really need advise. I thought my husband was quite a fit man but now I am
beginning to dout it. He has been going out on Friday nites to play games with
sum peeple he calls prats. He ses that there not reely prats but PRATS. Is there
a diffrance? I didnt mind at first cos he seemed to enjoy it and there was a bit
of evidence that he was doing some exersise, but now I dont no. See the trubble
is that he sometimes woorks out of the howse on a Friday nite to meet them in
what I would call a jawnty, uprite manner woorkin on too legs, but cums home
(sometimes very late I mite say) in a very wobbly way on all fors. He stumbles
and seems well a bit vacant like. is this normal or shood I speek to our doctor?
These prats dont sownd too helthy to me.
Yours sinserally
R WORRIED WIFE
Dear WILLIED WIFE,
Think you far your lotter. If I wore you though I wouldn't witty about a
thing. It seems to me that he's bitter off with these prits on a Friday
than willying someone else's wife.(Can she say willy ? Is that allowed? Can she
say witty, Ern?)
Dear Auntie Molly,
I have recently discovered that I have a brother that I never knew I had. I have
now met him and he seems ever such a nice man. He seems to be called Two Bounce
or something. Anyway the brother you always wanted. And he has some lovely
friends in the Prats Home For The Bewildered. l've even met some of them.
Really this is the answer to all my prayers. Does this
qualify me for a Prats sweatshirt?
A sent in the same letter to Terry Wogan hoping for one of those new Togs
sweatshirts but he just laughed, as he does, and said, Celia, are you sure
you've got the right Two Bounce?
Yours sincerely
Celia
Dear Celia,
Are you sure you've got the right Two Bounce?
Dear Auntie Molly,
I have recently discovered that I have a sister that I never knew I had. I have
even met her and she is a wonderful lady with a lovely family. She'll find me
out. Now long will it take before she realises that I'm simply grumpy and
boring? Find my friends. What will she make of them? They're OK in the Home but
what if she meets them on some dark night in a country lane in the PRATMOBILE?
Do you think my only answer is to disappear out
of.-sight for another eighty two years?
Yours in anxiety
Several Bounces
Dear Several Bounces,
Frankly I'm getting brassed off with your problems. ft's getting so that you can
Y open a Newsletter these days without you whinging on.
Anyway, in answer to your question, yes.
Dear Auntie Molly,
I have just had a call from someone from an organisation called the Drats or
Rats or something, couldn't quite make it out. I'm afraid the old bearing isn't
what it used to be. Anyway, he was saying that he thoroughly enjoyed his
weekends but could I do something about the rest of the week. What a wimp. Who
does he think he is? What sort of a week does he think I had that time with a
whole planet to create? And I only had Sundays off in those days. find what's
more I hadn't even invented squash or golf get, let alone the Cat and Fiddle. He
should be thankful for what he's got.
Yours sincerely
T.H.E. lord
Dear Mr Lord, Sir,
l am very humbled that you should take the time to write to such an unworthy
sinner as myself. I shall certainly pass on your message to the relevant
Drat. Next time though, would it be too much trouble to just send a letter
or an E-mail? The stone tablet and lightning and everything don't seem to be
covered by my house insurance.
On the other hand I think your eleventh commandment is a cracker. 'Thou shaft not be glum on a Friday' What a belter, who could argue with that? Right up there with the thieving, adultery and everything.
Dear Auntie Molly
I understand that you may have received some recent correspondence from my
assistant, a Mr. lord.
I'm sure that you will understand when I say that any opinions proffered were personal and non-attributable and were not subject to my personal scrutiny, nor, indeed, that of my Minister (without portfolio).
No, the rather negative sentiments expressed are not those of a new Britain, or. indeed, World, if you would just allow me a little more time. No, if your man wants to change the week then I'm sure that New labour can promise that.
As to the extra commandment, I'm afraid that I must ask
you to keep that under wraps for the moment since it is intended to be the
cornerstone (tablet) of our newt election manifesto. There again, you might find
the Tower quite accommodating, nice views over the river etc.
Yours sincerely
Tony
Dear Tony, (Swoon)
Thank you for your letter. I've already got it pinned up to the back of the en
suite's door so that I can read it every time I, yes, well, you know.
Stand on me, not a word of the eleventh commandment will pass my lips. I think it's a real winner though. But how are you going to make it stick? If I could be so presumptuous as to make a suggestion however, I know another chap who hasn't got a portfolio either. Actually, he hasn't got much of anything, except money allegedly. Name of Two Bounce, just the lad to shepherd your new policy through Parliament. Charm, wit, rugged good looks, ruthless when it comes to it. And glum! Never. Not even boring except possibly on Fridays but nobody's perfect, saving, of course, your assistant possibly. Shall ] have a word? Are portfolios easy to open?
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