Dear Holly,
I have accidentally proposed to my girlfriend. After plying me with cider the evil temptress bewitched me with promises of a blow job and next thing I know, I’m down on one knee simpering about how much I would be honoured to take her as my wife. Last time I made an important decision whilst inebriated, I woke up covered in glitter next to a bloke with a pink feather boa, but at least he had the decency to never mention it to anyone. I have a feeling my girlfriend won’t be so understanding. Am I going to have to marry the cow?
Wayne,
Salisbury
Dear Wayne,
I’ve been in an equally tricky situation myself quite recently, when I made the mistake of promising the fattest girl in class, Frances Hall, she could come to my sleepover in exchange for a go on her new pink bicycle. Fair enough, it was pretty cool riding about on it and ringing the bell, but as soon as I dismounted and the initial excitement abated I knew with a sinking feeling that I had made a terrible mistake. If the rumours are anything to go by, Frances Hall is the last person you want at your sleepover, not only because she requires at least three sleeping bags, but also because she touches herself under the covers and does worse farts than the dog and never admits it. Unfortunately for Frances, I had my fingers crossed when I made the promise, which means the whole thing was null and void and I didn’t have to invite her after all. Hopefully you weren’t so drunk that you managed to take the same precautions, and next time, remember that accepting favours from fat girls is never a good idea.
Hope that helps!
Holly