Dear Transgender Personal Drama Counselor,

It has recently come to my attention that people in my neighbourhood are illegally dumping garden refuse on my front pavement lawn. Now I consider myself liberal; hell, I even subscribe to Unibrow Sluts Monthly. But this shit is just not on. My set of steel duiker (named Rusty, Musty, Dusty and Nkosizana, btw), which I purchased from a man in bright tracksuit pants on William Nicol Drive, have not been visible for two months. I’ve approached my local councilor, who told me in no uncertain terms that he couldn’t deal with my issue, that he was 64 and three quarters and thus months away from a gold watch and lifetime travel vouchers, that I could fuck all the way off, and was I a racist? What should I do?

Concerned, Randburg.

Dear Concerned,

Have you considered the possibility that the problem is with you, and that your wife and her Chihuahua have little or no interest in playing nude bridge? It seems you are putting your needs ahead of those of your lady and her pooch. Anyway, there is little evidence to suggest that domestic animals (or even their cousins in the wild) are at all stimulated by displays of human copulation, no matter how theatrical. You may want to take your wife for a full physical examination after the events you’ve described, and possibly investigate some more traditional methods of arousal. Please don’t write again. Continue reading →