Dr Damian's problem page

I am a strong dominating woman, Chancellor of a financially stable Western nation with a long and proud tradition of helping other countries run themselves (especially in 1914-18 and 1939-45). All I want to do is to make sure that the Euro is a success, but I am having trouble with my partners in a certain Mediterranean country. Whereas in Ger.... it is normal to get to the office at 3 a.m. and not go home again until midnight, those Gr.... don't have the same work ethic. Indeed when I telephoned their Government, they said that the country was closed for the next 2 months for a holiday. As a result, I am losing patience with my European partners. Can you help?
Angela M. of Berlin.

A strong leader

Dr Damian replies:  We see here several examples of addiction, which I discuss in my best-selling book, The Fix, only £12 from all good bookshops. You, Angela, are addicted to work, and also, perhaps, to stomping around in jackboots telling people what to do. The Greeks, on the other hand, are addicted to olives, ouzo, sunbathing, and (historically at least) playing practical jokes on their friends by leaving wooden horses outside their houses. When you understand this, the solution is clear, and is explained in Chapter 94 of my book, Is Addiction leading to World War III?

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I am a senior Tibetan costume holy man, who obtained his position in a rather curious way, by being "discovered" when I was a small child. I really don't enjoy my job, not just because I can't go into Chinese restaurants without a fight breaking out, but also because people insist on saying odd things to me such as "Make me one with everything," and "Hello, Dalai, well hello, Dalai," and then giggling, which I don't really understand. And the problem is that when I am dead I am going to be reincarnated, and will have to go through the whole business all over again. Oh, I would have been much happier on stage - I've got a very good yak-impersonation routine, for example. I've also tried calling myself Mr Gyatso, but then people blame me for inventing speed cameras, which I don't remember doing.
Dalai L. of No Fixed Abode.

Impersonating a yak

Dr Damian replies:  My new book, The Fix, is currently on offer at only £5, and  you will find that it describes some of the addictions which are the cause of your present worries. Telling silly jokes to religious leaders is one that I used to suffer from myself, and the only remedy is to drop religious affairs completely, as I have done. Your problem with reincarnation is a trickier one, although I do touch on it briefly in Chapter 55 of my book, Addiction beyond the grave.

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Hey, I'm just a regular kind of guy, who simply wants to get rich and be loved by everyone. I'm also extremely talented when it comes to ending the Arab-Israeli conflict, building a stable economy, winning elections, etc. But now I no longer dare appear in public without people throwing fruit and vegetables at me, shouting "War criminal!" and "Poodle!" at me, and generally disrupting my humble attempts to earn a few million bucks here and there.
Tony B. of Blair Castle, Blair Mansions, Château Blair, Schloss Blair, Ze Beeg 'ouse zat ze reech Señor El-Blairo lives in, Big Chief Lying Blair's Wigwam, and the Blairovski Dachas.

A well-thrown tomato

Dr Damian replies: Addiction to food is a dangerous thing, leading to obesity, indigestion and sleepiness. As described in my new book, The Fix (now only £2 and with a free copy of Mary Riddell's Beauty Secrets thrown in), many people overcome these addictions by throwing away their food, often in the direction of some particularly hated politician. However, you have problems of your own, and you may find Chapter 84 of my book helpful, Are you addicted to telling lies?

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Infidel Thompson dog, your stupid book has been of no use to me whatsoever. I am a simple Muslim cleric with a Sunni disposition, and a fondness for war, jihads and things that go BOOM. Nonetheless, the British authorities refuse to accept that I am merely the victim of an uncontrollable addiction to violence, and that I need specialised help - preferably a rest cure in a luxury hotel, with lots of handmaidens to look after my every need, know what I mean? War be upon you.
Abu H.of Belmarsh.

My heart goes boom bang-a-bang

Dr Damian replies: Of course, an addiction to violence is nothing new, and is well-described in my new book, The Fix (autographed copies for 20p, with a free blood-crazed ferret thrown in). You may find that Chapter 36, How I gave up assaulting bishops, which is my own personal story, will be of help to you.

Yet more bloggs

St Gordon of Kirkcaldy
By Mary Drilled






Mary Drilled's photo marks the 100th anniversary of the death of Bram Stoker
 
Gordon Brown now spends his days in retirement in a darkened room in Kirkcaldy, his only reward being an MP's pittance of £65,000, together with necessary expenses (most recently, an invoice from Jock McBogey's Glazing Repairs, for a window damaged by a flying laser-printer, £300+VAT). But until 2010 he was the most powerful man in the free world, the saviour of civilization as we know it. The verdict of history on Gordon Brown will surely be: We Owe So Much.

 Of course Ed Miliband is wonderful too, so handsome, so masterful. He can't make his eyes revolve in opposite directions at the same time, as Ed Balls can, but let's face it, is that really a necessary qualification to be PM? But it is Gordon whose photo I have on my bedside table, the Pride of Scotland.



Surely this man is a god?
 

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Viagra, sex, and pianist envy
By James Hordes







As a famous but iconoclastic pianist  - I'll get a better picture later, but I never really understood the instructions in those photo booths - I went to a concert recently. It featured a new sensational Chinese pianist, Miss To Tee. I can't remember much about what she was playing (it was one of those seriously uncool dudes, Beethoven, maybe) but I did notice that she certainly wasn't "flat". As I munched my way through a packet of Viagra tablets, and swelled to a climax with the melody, I said to myself, "Yes! This is what classical music is all about!"

Damian Thompson can keep his Bach (that Baroque wig he wears when he thinks nobody is watching doesn't suit him anyway). Give me To Tee tickling the ivories any day. Or the new CD set  from Cora Bimbo, in the deluxe edition with extra photos. YES!!!



Playing Fauré's Dolly Bird Suite
 

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Is Monbiot trying to kill me?
By James Goldenpile








I was eating my cold toast for breakfast today (no warming required), when I was struck by a terrible thought: is George Monbiot trying to kill me? Call me paranoid if you like, but I remember that the last time I appeared on Any Questions? with him, he was carrying an umbrella, and I am fairly sure that it was he who jabbed me in the leg half-way through the programme. I was explaining once more how Michael Mann had produced his hockey-stick graph by massaging his data, adding in his friends' telephone numbers and converting them to Fahrenheit. But the warmists are up to their dirty tricks as usual.

There's definitely a Libtard conspiracy to suppress the truth. Indeed, the man on the Sainsbury's fish counter looks suspiciously like Al Gore, and is obviously ready to slip me a poisoned haddock if I let my vigilance slip. But Monbiot is at the centre of it. He's a master of disguise too - the old lady who nearly barged me off the pavement yesterday didn't look anything like him, so that proves it.

Phew, it's cold today, isn't it? I told you there was an ice-age coming.



There's something sinister about him, don't you think?

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Concluded here.

Anti wins a prize

As you all know, my Grate-Anti Moly is a grate admirrer of de fammous blogger Cuttley, who she describes as "saintly, piuos, holly and wise, and not like dat clique of traddy Cathlics." Indeed, when Bosco knocked de head off a stateu of St Peter a month ago, she had anuvver head made, so dat she had an iddle of Cuttley to worhsip. Here it is again.



Anyway, de Tellegrahp held a compettition "Complete de folowwin in not more than 12 extra words: 'My favuorite Tellegrahp blogger is X X becuase ...' and win a stateu of him or her."

Dat's a real chalenge. Does you go for de meek and humble Delingpol what is always warnin us about crabon emmisions? Perhaps de intelect of Broiny Gorddon is what excites you? Or de beuaty of Mary Riddle? Dere is our old freind Damain Thopmson who has done more dan anyone else allive to warn us about de evil Joanne Hairy. Or perhaps you likes Stephen Huogh what plays de pianner in pubs? Or dere's Nomran Tebit and Daneil Hannann, what knows about currant afairs, what a pity dey never went into politicks. Pussonally, I likes wise old Goeffrey Lean who has been an envroinmental coresspondent for 80 years and knows about de dangers of horseless carraiges.

"I's gonna win dis," said Anti Moly. Dis is what she entered.

"My favuorite Tellegrahp blogger is Tom Chivvers becuase he is kind, freindly, cheerfull, cheeky, handsome, sensible, and not a Cathlic."

Anti won, and here is de stattue dat dey has just delivvered. It goes well wiv de stattue of Cuttley.



Of course Tom Chivvers aint saved, but we has high hopes of gettin him to come along to de Calumny Chappel some time, dressed as a clown.

I has just got time to show you a fambly snapp. Dis is my Anti Moly gate crashin de royal weddin of Willaim and Katte, disgiused as a nun (she is de old one wot looks cross). Some time I is gonna have to find out how dis happened. Anti Moly says she was dere incoggnito as a seccret agent to prottect de happy cuople, but it's more likely dat she was simply runnin away from de pollice and took a wrong turning.