DR FARQUAR

Read on for questions to Dr Tarquin Farquar from our most challenging and irritating readers

Question. I have a morbid fear of flying. I would prefer to have a stroke at 30,000 ft above the Atlantic than the embarrassment of those Seated In-Flight Cardio exercises. (By Fooge)
Dr Farquar. Yes, all that ‘good-toe naughty-toe’ nonsense. Usually the profiterole that looks like it has been assembled by an Irish drunken mechanic trapped in a time-pod affords me plenty of exercise. I generally find myself up and down ‘touching cloth’ rather than touching down. Having a dose of the ‘Aztec shuffle’ and too frightened to roll my eyes in case the fuselage disappears.

Q. Each time I get in the bath the wrong end the taps stick in my back and think I’m being ‘held up’. Last time I had to hand over all my bath toys. I’m frightened. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Try showering in future. I know films like ‘The Shining’ and ‘Psycho’ are produced and directed to make us feel vulnerable in our own shower. It’s hard to defend yourself against your deep-seated manic-psychosis with soap in your eyes. Leave your wallet in another room with a big sign pointing to it for would-be burglars. You will come to know harm if you leave the patio door open like last time.

Q. I’m afraid of navel rings. Every time I see them I walk into a lamppost. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Yes I know. This is what to do. Paint the lamposts in your town day-glow colours to prevent this. Those Y-shaped knickers poking out the back of hipster jeans seem to effect the steering of my car. I’ve never been in an accident but I’ve caused plenty.

Q. I have an acute aversion to people who dress up for car boot sales as if they have five quid to spend at Ascot. (By Fooge)
Dr F. It behoves me to warn you of such places. Let’s turn it on its head. It’s a good job people don’t go to Ascot mistaking it for a car-boot sale. You would have ugly men and women all trying to get everything free wearing ridiculous ill-fitting clothes milling about looking like a bunch of tossers all smelling of horseshit.

Q. I have a fear of religious zealots who become hairdressers. Are they part of a sinister cut? (By Fooge)
Dr F. They might be a fringe member.

Q. I’m afraid of what my occasional table does when it is off-duty. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Be warned it may try to be an exact replica when nobody is looking.

Q. I’m afraid when my 82 year old wife says she ‘fancies something warm inside
her’ and it’s not treacle pudding. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Don’t play hard to get. Offer her a ‘digestion friendly’ ‘good’ bacteria
yoghurt instead. It would be far too embarrassing at your age to queue for a KY
jelly at Boots.

Q. I’m afraid of ‘Postcard Carousel Wars’. When a pensioner becomes hostile and tugs the rotating card display in an aggressive anti clockwise manner when I am trying to keep it still to read one I may wish to buy on the other side. (By Fooge)
Dr F. To avoid this kind of confrontation push your brolly through the carousel to poke off postcards on your enemy’s side so they have to release their vicelike grip to pick them up.

Q. I’m afraid of my sister who compliments me on my taste in men and then flirts with my husband. What a hypocrite! (By Fooge)
Dr F. You have no worries in that department. He has been having an affair with ‘Simes’ our gay porter for years. Did he ever sell his bike on Ebay?

Q. I fear those cheeky car ‘squeegee operators’ at traffic lights who scare the living daylights out of me. What right do they have to assume I have a dirty windscreen? How would they like it if I jumped out of a hedge at their house and started mowing their lawn just because I thought it needed cutting? Plus once the lights changed in seconds and I had to move quickly forward and guess what? The guy ‘missed a bit’ failing to remove a squashed aphid in one corner. It meant I had to go all around the one-way system again. When I demanded he clean it again. He told me to fuck off and poured a whole bucket of very murky water in my lap. I’m thinking of starting a smear campaign against him. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Good idea. Try this. Next time he ambushes you… quickly jump out first and spray your windscreen with ‘Evostick Spray Mount Adhesive’ then watch him struggle to clean the bugger off.

Q. I’m scared the TV will break down. The last time I got pregnant waiting for the repair man. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Your husband has Alzheimer’s. Did he forget you needed a service?

Q. I fear seeing you as my Doctor. Each time I phone you for an appointment you say "Bear with me." Then the phone goes dead and I don’t hear from you again. I personally would demand better working conditions hide under your desk and carry a tranquilliser gun at all times. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Yes, its not easy being surrounded by caged animals. If you could see the Zoo in my waiting right now it makes animal teaser and ‘croc wrestler’ Steve Irwin look like he needn’t bother with making a new series. I do apologise. Sometimes I may ask my receptionist to ‘hold’ and neither of us are even on the phone.

Q. I’m afraid of the fact the world has changed so much but a cucumber hasn’t. (By Fooge)
Dr F. Pass me a scalpel and I’ll carve it into a French tickler. Anything to stop you whining. By the way I’m happy with just corned beef in my sandwiches this week.

Q. I’m scared of harming my child. I think I have that ‘Munch Biscuit’ syndrome. Yesterday I stirred a very hot cup of tea and placed the back of the teaspoon on my kid’s bare flesh to get them to do their homework.
Dr F. Don’t worry its common. Using larger spoons, for instance of the dessert/table variety, it may cause quite serious skin damage but at least they would have eaten all their supper.

Q. I am scared stiff of the shite reading material on offer when waiting to be seen by you. Those magazines I find in your waiting room devote whole pages to sell 'ornate' and 'exquisite' figurines of porcelain that are depicting a flower woman with a bird of paradise nestling on a lambs head, or similar, and not content with one hideous example they then try to get you to collect the whole set. (By Fooge)
Dr F. I remember you. You’re the spotty little jerk I used to beat up at school. Just because you now look like Brad Pitt and married the French teacher doesn’t give you the right to criticise my workplace. At least I made something of myself. I expect you work for BT or something. Am I right?

Q. Sorry I was out of order. Why don’t you come by my yacht and we can bury the hatchet over a couple of Martinis and a cruise on the Med. It’s just a thought. I understand you have a big caseload but the century old Champers has just reached temperature inside my emerald encrusted executive jet and I have ‘J-Lo’ my naked female chauffeur in my 1200 horse-powered Aston outside waiting to take us to the airport. (By Fooge)
Dr F. (Bummocks!) Er.. Your cat scan could be worse. Let’s do this thing before
chemo starts. No time like the present. You are so right about our shit magazines. I will torch them inside the very shop they are sold right away. I will machine-gun all the staff in my department responsible for contributing them. Can I bring Monica in ‘clinical waste’? She would be up for it. She loves boats. I took her backwards up the canal in a dinghy I borrowed once. Sorry about the school thing. It was ‘Bosher Banks’ that said ‘the last time I saw a face like yours I dipped garlic bread in it” not me.

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All content on this site is subject to copyright © 2000/2006
If you wish to use anything either text or graphics please ask permission