Your problems solved, with Holly Harper

Dear Holly,
I’m really pissed off with my husband. He’s only gone and let his parents invite themselves for dinner again this weekend, which means I’ll have to listen to endless drivel about my father-in-law’s seeping hernia, and how the next-door-neighbour’s cat keeps shitting in their prize rose bushes, whilst my mother-in-law rubs her fingers along all the surfaces looking for dust, and scowls at my lasagne as if it came straight from a dog’s arse. My own parents are decent enough to be honest about the fact that they hate us and stay the hell away; why can’t this pair of old bastards do the same?

Dear Esme,
Dealing with other people’s parents is tricky. On the one hand, you always have to be on your best behaviour around them, and never scream that you hate them and wish they would die like you would with your own mummy and daddy. On the other hand, you need to remember that ultimately they have no control over you, and so you can use this to your advantage if you’re clever. When I went for tea at Cynthia Baxter’s house, I made sure I was super polite to her mum, and told her I thought her beef casserole was delicious even though it tasted like old socks dipped in dog poo. It didn’t take long for her to become convinced that I was a little darling, and by the end of the evening I had her eating out of my hand. Now, if I want to be allowed to do something, like watch inappropriate films, or eat sweeties before dinner, or even stay awake until 1030pm, I just go round to Cynthia’s house and tell her mum my parents let me do that sort of stuff all the time and she has no choice to believe me. So if I were you, this weekend I’d stop worrying about the negatives and convince your parents-in-law to let you have four cans of coke and watch the Blair Witch Project with the lights off.
Hope that helps!



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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)
This week, convince colleagues that you’re actually playing air-accordion rather than wafting away a hefty bout of guffing.

Aries (21 MAR-19 APR)
Warning signals in your relationship when your partner stages an intervention for sex addiction after you suggest you should have intercourse more often than Stanley Baxter appears on television.

Taurus (20 APRIL – 20 MAY)
Stop worrying that a few grey hairs or your taste in clothes are making you appear old. Your rantings about thieving children are already doing a bang-up job.

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)
You and your three college buddies have just 24 hours to get to the kerraziest party ever on the other side of the country and just one tank of gas to get there. But given the relatively light traffic on the A1 you manage to arrive in plenty of time and actually spend an evening in a lovely B&B the night before.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)
What’s worse? Saying you love Hitler or devoting your life to designing stupid clothes for vain, empty women? I’m honestly not sure.

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)
I’ve been thinking about this for the best part of  a week and I still can’t work out why you think the idea of ‘broadband from Yorkshire’ would not disgust me utterly.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)
You stop going to Alcoholics Anonymous when it becomes apparent that none of the steps are ‘necking a load of mints so nobody at work notices’.

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)
Jesus may have built your hotrod, but I can tell you now it’s going to make getting spare parts an absolute fucking nightmare.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)
This week your case finally reaches the small-claims court. PetPlan will rue the day it removed ‘rectal insertion’ from the small print.

Sagittarius (22 NOV-21 DEC)
Of course Saturn, Mars and Venus give a shit about your life. Why wouldn’t they?

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)
Thanks to our two week Photoshop course, you can not only tell your boss to go fuck himself, you can show him a picture of what that would actually look like. Look at him go!

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)
One night this week you will wake up to find me shoving a pineapple into your stupid fucking face.