Your problems solved, with Holly Harper

Dear Holly,
It’s once again time for my work Christmas party and this year I have vowed to ensure I don’t go home alone. I have my eye on a couple of prospects: Sheila from accounts whose husband recently died, and a woman called Maria who works on reception and has some manner of palsy. Neither of them is particularly young or good looking, but when you’re as desperate as I, you have no choice but target the weak and the lame. The only problem is that sad old women like Sheila and Maria tend to go home early from these types of things, before you’ve had a chance to slip anything into their drinks. Can you suggest any clever techniques for holding someone against their will without leaving any visible marks?

Dear Victor,
If your office party is anything like the Christmas disco at my school, I can see why Sheila and Maria would want to make an early exit. Try to envisage 150 small children, all simultaneously experiencing a prolonged and intense sugar rush whilst dancing vigorously to Agadoo. Coupled with the narcotic properties of fairy cakes, everyone is so incredibly over-excited about the fact it is nearly Christmas that all manner of mayhem can occur. Last year, Tracy Slater got so worked up about the prospect of sitting on Santa’s knee that she urinated lavishly all over the dance floor in the school gymnasium, causing mass panic and several nasty injuries – a scenario made all the more terrible by a persistent strobe light and the Birdy Song playing at full volume.  Plus Oliver French was up to his old tricks, hiding in the Christmas tree with his winkie hanging out like a sorry piece of old tinsel. I’m not sure if it was this novel interpretation of yuletide decoration, or the enormous amounts of jelly and ice-cream consumed in a very short space of time with a plastic spoon, but whatever it was, it prompted at least three individuals to be violently sick in the PE cupboard, and I’m sure one of them was a teacher. Ultimately, if you value your sanity, I would forget about Maria and Sheila and just go home to bed. However, if you insist on going to the party, I’d recommend bringing a spare pair of pants, just in case, and steer well clear of any weird, flesh coloured Christmas baubles.
Hope that helps!




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Power-thinking, with Dr Morris O'Connor

A wealthy Christmas

I’VE been receiving a lot of emails recently from fans asking what my Christmas day is going to be like. The truth is, it’s going to be in the top seven percent of Christmases globally.

High quality gifts will be exchanged in a touching manner and an atmosphere of extreme success. Price tags will be tastefully removed, but the select coterie of world-class golfers and international CEOs in attendance will know they are opening a gift with a minimum resale value of £10,000.

After presents and expensive food, we’ll sit round and play traditional success games like guessing who owns the most square yardage of Croatia. However, it wasn’t always like this. My Christmases used to be measly affairs. I’d sit round a flimsy table with some no hoper of a relative, trying to lift the mood with a futile game of Hungry Hippos, while we waited for whatever factory farmed animal was being roasted in the medium-sized kitchen. All we had was each other. It was simply not good enough.

I, like you, longed for a wealthy and sucessful Christmas. Then one day I met a highly esteemed man of science who told me if I wanted lots of money I needed to start banking with the Universe. I said: “The Universe? You mean the one that’s in outer space?” He replies: “Yes, there’s loads of coins and notes floating around in it. It’s a bit like the Crystal Dome in that show The Crystal Maze but without the excitable bald man.” I immediately asked: “Please tell me how to get the money in space?”

The richest, cleverest people throughout history have all known about Universe Banking. Naturally they haven’t told you or most of the people in Africa, because they don’t want everyone getting in there and taking what could be their’s. Poor people think they need money, rich people think they have money and the universe always delivers what you think. Yes.

According to quantum physics, when you think of money in your head you create a thought that then wobbles off into the Universe. It’s like throwing a really bouncy ball into a squash court. Now imagine that rubber ball is me at an exclusive nightclub. As I confidently move my body in partnership with the beat on the dance floor I’ll pick up the admiration of men and the phone numbers of women. This is what’s happening to that wobbly rubber mind ball when you ding it out of your brain. Instead of picking up respect and breathtaking females, the ball is picking up money.

Before I knew it I had tripled my salary and was using the cosmos like a giant cash machine. My only remaining problem was how to spend it all? Eventually I settled on getting everything Colin Montgomery has got, but of a slightly higher quality.

So my gift to you this year is an application form to join the Bank of the Universe. And may I wish you all a very Dr Morris O’Connor Christmas.

Dr Morris O’Connor is the best selling author of Money Making Mind Balls.