Your problems solved, with Holly Harper

Dear Holly,
I recently went out on a night out with
some of my work colleagues and indulged in one too many Bacardi
Breezers. One minute, I’m discussing the finer details of a mail
merge with one of the other secretaries, the next, I find myself
stripped to the waist on the banks of a river with £300 in cash and
no eyebrows. Worse still, Alan from HR keeps giving me really knowing
looks everytime I walk past his office, which might also explain how
I came into possession of a case of genital herpes. The thing is, I’d
hate to cut back on the booze too much because otherwise people might
start to realise I have nothing interesting to say. Any ideas?
Leamington Spa

Dear Marina,
I can totally sympathise with your
position. I suffered from an ‘episode’ recently at Sophie Gregory’s
party which I think had something to do with consuming eight fun size
mars bars, half a litre of Fanta and at least four substantial
handfuls of strawberry popping candy in under half an hour. I’d lost
interest in the rubbish clown man and raided the buffet until pass
the parcel kicked off. By that point, I was too far gone to realise I
was in real danger of making a huge spectacle of myself. Having lost
all inhibition, I got far too boisterous during musical chairs and
told Sophie’s mum she was a fat vagina for switching the music off
too soon, then threw a massive tantrum and pinned the tail on Debbie
Walker’s face rather than the donkey. Thankfully, soon after my mummy
came to pick me up, Oliver French fed the Gregory’s dog a whole
multipack of Wotsits and tried to make it have sex with Amanda
Sullivan’s back, so people soon forgot about my own embarrassing
performance. What you have to decide in these situations is whether
it is worth missing out on your party bag and balloon giraffe for the
sake of being the life and soul of the party, or whether it’s best to
keep a low profile and lay off the fruit pastilles while you’re at
Hope that helps!



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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)
Frighten old ladies on the bus this week by passing them a note that says ‘rumpy pumpy’.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)
I don’t want to set the world on fire. I want to set the BBC on fire.

Sagittarius (22 NOV-21 DEC)
Do make sure you inform everyone on Facebook about that novel/screenplay/haiku you’re currently writing, otherwise what’s the point?

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)
Bad news as the flowchart of your company’s new structure places you in the bottom right hand corner wanking for coins under a motorway flyover.

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)
This week a BBC reporter is attempting to drive from London to Edinburgh in an all-electric Mini. If you see him shivering by the side of the M1, don’t forget to ‘honk’.

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)
Blow winds and crack your cheeks! Rage! Blow! You cataracts and hurricanes, spout ’till you have drench’d our steeples, drown’d the cocks! Also a chance of light rain over Devon.

Aries (21 MAR-19 APR)
You’re not too old to present Countryfile. You’re too high.

Taurus (20 APRIL – 20 MAY)
This week pick a random funeral, put on some dark glasses, a suit and one earphone and then stand about 20 yards away, pretending to speak into your shirt cuff. It’ll give them something to talk about at the reception instead of all that grief.

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)
You should strive to be the best you can be in everything you do. You’ll still fail miserably, but it will be hilarious to watch.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)
Well done for not exploiting the tragedy in Arizona for your own horrifying political ends. Best to wait until your reality TV series has finished and you’ve shot another moose.

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)
Confront lingering tensions with a colleague by draping sheep guts all over their workspace. Just ask your local butcher.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)
As the latest Bond film gets the green light now is your chance to play the sexy Bulgarian translator/assassin with the legs that go all the way down to the ground. We just need to find a way of concealing your balls.