Crystal is always here (except when she’s being a cougar about town, showing the young women of today how to grind up against the guys) to help answer your problems. Our agony aunt-cum-psychic knows best when it comes to problems…

Dear Crystal,


About two years ago my mother and father told me that I was adopted. Although I will always consider them my real parents, I still felt a need to seek out my biological parents to know who I am and where I came from. After a long and exhaustive search I finally discovered that my birth mother was a young glamour model called Crystal Smith, who later married porn tycoon Harry Balls in the 70s shortly before his suspicious death from asphyxiation during a sex game. Now, at last, I have tracked you down to Sydney, Australia, and wondered if you wanted to reconnect after all these years. I’m 48 now and have three children who would love to meet their grandmother. Also, I would dearly like to know who my father is as all you put down on the adoption certificate was “some tradies”.

Yours,
Heather

Dear Heather,
Not this again. I’ll tell you what I told the other half-dozen motherless bastards who’ve tried to get in touch with me over the years. Firstly, no I don’t want a touchy-feely reunion with you and your children. I bloody hate kids. Secondly, your dad could be anyone from Jimmy Tarbuck, Telly Savalas, Richard Pryor, the 1967-68 FA-Cup winning West Bromwich Albion squad and the cast and crew of Love Boat. Thirdly, it was proven in a court of law that it was entirely possible for Harry Balls to tie himself to his bed and still force a dildo down his mouth until he choked to death. Anyone who suggests otherwise will hear from my lawyer.

 

 

Dear Crystal, 
I’ve been having an affair with the Fat Controller from Thomas the Tank Engine for six years now, but I’m scared to go public in case there’s a backlash on social media. The last time we had sex we did it up against Henry until his eyes span around and steam came out of his chimney. What should I do?
Yours
Clare

Dear Clare,
This is a tough one. It reminds me of the time I once had an orgy with a group of beloved children’s TV characters. For legal reasons, I can’t say who they were, but let’s just say the name “Tinky Winky” does not do him justice. More like “Massive Schlong”. I’d say just enjoy it while you can and make sure you do some sex tapes so you can blackmail him when it all goes tits up. That’s what I did with Matthew Corbett from the Sooty and Sweep Show. Very talented with his fingers. He certainly made me squeak when he shoved his hand up there.