Dear site.  It’s been 691200 seconds since my last post and I have a confession.  I finally have a bit of quiet time to actually be able to write a post!

But first…a drink.  Sparkling water.  It’s not beer, but it’s the way I fly these days.

Now.  Where was I?  Ah yes.   I read with some enthusiasm (I was in a rush, thus the enthusiasm to get it read) that fathers-to-be gain on average a stone in weight during the time that the Mrs is all sprogged up with nowhere to go.  Of course, if you people of the non-English variety are confused by that, it’s 14lbs or 6.35Kg.  If any of you still weigh in bananas…umm…it’s 29 I think.  Oh, and it is time to move on to weighing with big boy toys.

I can see how this could happen.  I for instance put on a lot of weight when my wife was pregnant.  And when I say a lot, I mean effing loads.  But my daughter is now 10 months old…and while Mrs Sy is looking all sexy, I am…well, I got even fatter.

Soooo.  A month ago, I hurt myself in ways I could not believe existed went on a diet.  Well, kind of.  I stopped drinking beer and eating junk food….and started exercising.  I wont lie, it’s hell.  The sun comes out…I wanna beer.  The sun goes in…I wanna beer.  It’s morning time…I wanna…well, you get the idea. But I didn’t give in, and my beer is replaced with sparkling water (and no, there isn’t a vodka in it).  And the exercise bike that has been sitting by the side of my bed (I honestly thought it was a clothes horse…) is now being abused on a daily basis.

So in a month of cycling and not eating anything I enjoy, I lost 2 stone.  Or 28 lbs or…oh hell, just use a weight converter instead of making me type all this lot.  But really, I have lost that much.  I would post the before and current photos, but the before photo wont fit on the screen.   But now, I am a not overly lean, definitely not keen but certainly a wobbly machine.  Or in other words, the current picture STILL wont fit on the screen.  You know, unless you have a widescreen monitor attached to your PC.  Or maybe you have a projector and a wall the size of Switzerland to point it at.

I know you wanna see photos.  By “wanna”, I mean “feel like a laugh”.  But really…I am just not vain enough to take photos of me posing like the statue of David (although THIS  link is pretty amusing). But hopefully these will help which are photos that are shrunk to fit the screen (they will open a new window with just the image so if you have a pop up blocker…I am happy for you!):

Before

After

OK fine, so I stole both of them from Google Images, and if the owners see them and have a problem…I dunno..sue me for being so handsome or something?

Should you feel the need to read the news story about the blokes putting on weight which contains nuggets about a women buys more junk food when they are pregnant…and then say how men seem to drink more beer when the woman is pregnant (see any obvious flaw in their research there?), you can read about it HERE.  Alternatively you could do something exciting with your life like drink a beer for me.

It is nearly that time of the year when we have the local government elections over here in Blighty.  That means two things:

1 – I really don’t care

and

2 – Oh my god I don’t care!

Because they are all as bad as each other.  Well, kind of.  Some are a little…well, lets just say that yesterday morning, a flyer was posted through my door for the “Justice Party”.  A party who care for Britain more than any other party.  I know this because on their flyer they write snippets like (and this is EXACTLY as it is written, so don’t go all “Geez, your grammar is disgusting!” on me)…

They start with unemployment:

Putting 15 million people into work.  15 million Brits are Claiming Full unemployment benefit all but name & yet no government had let up to 10 million Immigrants into Britain over last 12 years to milk & sponge welfare state for rest of their lives.  As soon as Immigrants get definite stay then foreigners stop working & start milking welfare state for rest of their lives.

After that piece of grammatical genius, they then carry on with immigration:

End all Immigration & Asylum from Europe & rest of the world.  Immigrants are spoiling it for those settled in Britain.  Foreigners come off back of Lorry & Plane & get council Homes and Flats.  While those born here, Work & pay taxes can not get council homes & Flats.  Free condoms will be given to third world countries instead of money.  Condoms will help them out of poverty by controlling population explosion.

Indeed.  Of course, when I say “Indeed”, I actually mean “Huh?”.   They don’t mention education, which judging by what I read would say that there is a serious flaw in this country, or someones brain.

So I guess this would be a party run by hardcore British men and women who don’t want foreigners in our wonderful country then.

And who do we get to vote for on June 4th?  Well obviously Arshad Khan.  That devastatingly popular British name.

I’m not kidding.  Proof in Google HERE.  The party that wants to stop immigration is asking someone whose family were obviously immigrants to head them up!

Amazing.  It explains the spelling and how they want to get “Health servies” back in the area.  Whatever they are.

Either way, I am hoping Mr Khan does a little door to door canvassing for votes.  I am sure me being British will be exactly who he wants to talk to.  Oh…except my wife is South African thus my daughter is half  South African. Soooo….hmmm…best I leave a bat by the front door ready to have the “chat” with the arrogant misinformed twat then!

I had a dream a couple of weeks ago.  In it I was told that I would die last Monday.  Luckily, I am still here.  Unlike this site which with the updates I have done recently are leading into a slow and painful death.  I may speed it up soon though.  The death of the site, not the amount of posts that is.

So I told my wife of my dream who said “Can you die at work?  You get quite a good payout of you die while at work don’t you!”.  Well at least I knew I would be getting a knife in the heart in the middle of the night from her then!

But the conversation of my untimely demise moved on to funerals.  I think she really was hoping that I was going to be gone soon!  But luckily, she decided to talk about her own. 

Which is good. 

No, not in the “I hope she is going to die” way, but in that she plans on living a long time.

Naturally, we talked about the most important part of a funeral.  No, not the “Should we have a free bar at the wake?” part, the OTHER most important part of the funeral.  What to be buried/turned crispy in.

And that is about the time the conversation got a little out of control.

“I want to wear those hipster jeans I cant fit in to at the moment!” she said.

“But they don’t fit you!”

“Well, don’t bury me straight away.  Give me a couple of weeks of decomposing first!”

So she wants me to leave her laying on a slab for a few weeks to “trim the edges”.  I have decided that it is best that they also keep the embalming fluid to a minimum to stop the possibility of adding a few more pounds.  Well, that was easy then.

But.

She also wants a tan.  She has lost her nice South African tan since moving to England and has now a similar skin colour to mine.  She is now a pasty milky transparent freaky “Did you see a ghost?” colour.  Or British as it is also known.

“You have to take me to a tanning salon so I look good.”

She is going to be dead.  Looking good?  I think looking good isn’t really going to come in to the equation.  But fine.  I agreed.

I therefore at some point in my life will be rocking up to a beauty salon and having a few scared women paint my dead wifes toenails and then I will be sticking her in a hot place for a few minutes until cooked. 

Then a few days later, I will be sticking her in an even hotter place for a few minutes.

Of course, if I have to do all this for her, I have decided it is also fair that I give her fake breasts.

Hey, she wants to look good, why not sick a pair of G cups in there too?  Especially if she decides she wants to be buried.  At some point in a few hundred years, they will decide to move the graveyard to build a supermarket or something and will open the box and there will be these huge breasts….and not a lot else.  They can be given to the local under privileged kids to kick about as a football. 

Don’t judge me.  It’s called giving something back.

It never ceases to amaze me what I find in the list of keywords that find this site.  Granted, everyone searches for it for a reason, but take this one for instance:

can sniffer dogs smell dogs in my arse

Huh?  There must be an easier way to smuggle Chihuahua’s and Great Danes in to other countries.  So how would that work?  Some sniffer dog runs up and to identify the offender, he mounts him from behind and goes at it?  Coz you know…I think I had a stash of dogs in my leg not so long ago if that is anything to go by.

But then you get things like this:

potatoes and jelly up your ass x-ray

Why!!  Why would someone be looking for this? (more should be asked how does that reach this site!) Each to their own and all that, but Jelly?  Potatoes?  And then I have to ask…  What Jelly?  In the UK jelly is different to the US.  So is it jam or the contents of an jelly and ice cream party?  And what happened to the ice cream?  What flavour was it?  I fear it wasn’t vanilla.  These questions need answering!

Maybe they are searching out a role playing game gone wrong such as this one:

she got me drunk then tied me up

Is he bragging?  Does he want the world to know?  In that case, I may as well confess something.  I only own 4 pairs of socks!  Yup, you heard it here first folks!  And I bet you are also wondering:

what happens when blokes go out

What are they expecting to find in an answer here?  I am confident that the answer isn’t “buy dresses, shoes and handbags” but may involve “get drunk, eat junk food, fall over, fight like an angry ballerina with a hernia”. 

I have to wonder about the fascination with people searching the word “penis”.  Take these for example:

call and talk about your penis

chimpanzee penis pictures

do female puppies have penis like objects

fun stuff that you could do with your penis

today i went crazy and inserted several round objects in my urethra

Why is your penis better than a credit card?

Where do I start!  Lets start at the top.  Who do they want to call?  I am not going to call them.  I write enough about it on this £20 a year website.   I don’t need to incur call costs now too!  And if someone has to ask what fun stuff you can do with your penis…well…it’s not going to have the answer of “play scrabble” is it?  Was it asked by a 10 year old?  Has he even got a credit card? Because trust me…sometimes the credit card is more fun. 

An example of this was when I went shopping for groceries.  At the checkout, I said “I don’t have my wallet on me…will you take a penis imprint?  It’s guaranteed working as you can tell by my daughter being here!”, but I got escorted off of the premises…with no groceries.

And why the fascination with inserting objects into the fun department?  Inserting a doughnut in my mouth…Yes.  Inserting money in to little Sy…I think not.

So I guess I mention the word penis too often on this site because of the sheer amount of hits I get for that word alone.  It’s lucky I never mention my drink problem is it:

lets get drunk so i can take advantage of you

something to say when you want get drunk

Why the second one?  Surely the blatant answer is “Can I have a beer please”.  Or do they have some secret code so when you want a drink you say “Lest we forget the blue cabbage in the red packet singing the song about cleaning windows”.  But then, if that is the answer…they need a drink.

I have also noticed that sex-ed is lacking in parts of the world.  Take this for example:

what illness can you get when you do not have sex

That’s a heck of a long list!  Why not ask “Am I stupid?” and I am sure you will end up at this site too.  Although if you want to use a credit card to order a pizza you will end up here as this shows:

will paddingtons pizza take credit card? which brings you to this page:  http://www.wheelturninghamsterdead.com/2008/10/14/so-paddington-bear-didnt-have-the-guts-well-i-do/

But when all is said and done, it is NOT safe to go back in to the water as this search result shows:

dolphins killing people while having sex

Is this a search term…or a warning?  Do they know something that I don’t?  Is this some kind of Natural Born Killers thing?  That’s the last time I go to sea world.  So it seems that dolphins are friendly…until they decide it is time to procreate, and then they go insane and kill the humans!  Screw it.  Get me a tin of tuna…and I don’t mean the “friendly” stuff. 

Although how can you call it “dolphin friendly”?  Why not say “It’s OK, no dolphins were hurt in the making of this tuna, we just murdered some defenseless fish!” instead?  Must be a packaging thing.

Now.  Where did I leave my hermaphrodite puppy?

Continuing from the last post about Travis the challenged SatNav….

Yes, poor Travis the SatNav with a female voice was not only confused vocally, (s)he was also as damned hormonal as you can get.

I am confident that when they created him, they took as much sarcasm and cynicism as they could and plonked it in to the delicious sounding if not a little (and by a little, I mean imagine you have a half pint glass, and now fill it with a pint of beer.  Overflowing?  You betcha!) hormonal Heather.  And then gave her a penis.

OK, as I said, I have not actually SEEN said interesting package, but for my navigation needs, he needed to be a he.  Maybe he is actually a butch her?  I dunno.  Although technically, I don’t care either way!

It seems that Travis has issues with you not following his directions.  An example of this is that I was sitting still in a car park.  Travis wanted me to move, but I wasn’t ready.  So his response? 

TurnLeftTurnLeftTurnLeft.  No break between words, it was a forceful “DO IT!  DO IT NOW BEFORE I STICK MY BOOT IN YOUR EAR!” message.  And then he went silent and wouldn’t talk anymore.

I wasn’t impressed with his attitude.  I told him to sod off.  He ignored me even more.

Another example is that I drove down a road and decided that I would go somewhere else.  I didn’t bother turning Trav off, I just changed direction and went where I wanted to. 

Holy hell!  It was like I had crawled in to his underwear and licked his belly button and spat the belly button fluff back at him.  I do honestly think he was getting annoyed with me!  Using his sexiest voice (s)he told me to turn around. 

Make a U-Turn.  Turn Right Now.  Turn Right Now.  Turn Right Now.  Turn Right Now.  Make a U-Turn and finally said in the most sarcastic voice I have ever heard “When it is convenient, turn around”.

No please, just a voice that said “I detest you for making me do this, and then ignoring me”.  Strangely I think all of my ex girlfriends have used the same voice at some point in time with me.

Of course, talking of making the earth move (was I?) it is worth mentioning how annoyed Travis got when I got the car to fly.  While driving around tiny little country roads, THIShappened.  No, really.  It did.  And I am confident that I went over a large bump in the road at that exact second (Coz it surely wasn’t me driving excessively fast on small roads!) and the car pretty much took off. 

Travis, thinking that I was about to send him back to the satellite from which he came, actually apologised.  Well, I think he did.  He said “Beware”.  I am assuming that he was thinking about the need for a space suit to get to the satellite rather than that I was now going faster than the speed limit.

Either way, Travis has a lot of explaining to do, and I will be installing the HRT patch on him in the coming days to get him sorted out.

 

In other news, it seems no one was interested in me doing the video of the dolphin and penguin in squidgy juice action…so…well, I won’t!  Saves me the effort of doing it I guess!

I am back.  After my very long hiatus…ok, so a little over a week…of driving around small country roads on holiday, I return.  I can hear the fanfare in the distance.  Sounds like someone is having a party.  I wish I was invited.  Instead I am writing this for you.  And do you appreciate it?  Infact, does anyone even read it?  I know I wouldn’t.

As a side note before this post, I have an idea for a video post which involves me getting a dolphin and either a penguin or a fish to exchange bodily juices (I mean it!).  If you are interested in watching something like that, let me know in the comments section.  If hardly anyone says yes, I wont bother with the recording it, uploading to YouTube etc etc etc.  But you get to hear my sexy voice talking through the experiment and see my hands do the work of magic!  If that isn’t enough for you…hell…you have issues!  Anyway.  This post.

Let me tell you a story.  A story about a SatNav with issues. (As not to bore you, it is a 2 part post..I know how anything over 600 words per post makes you want to never come back!)

Normally my wife happily sits there with a map and tells me where to go (literally), but it always ends up in arguments.  This was the last one:

Turn left.

No.

You have to turn left!

Look, I can see I have to go straight on.

You are such an arse.

Screw you.  You think you know it all sitting up there on your thrown.

I hate you.  You know that?

At this point my wife butted in and said

When you have finished talking to yourself, I will let you know where you need to be!

It wasn’t working out too well for me.  So I decided for this journey I would buy a SatNav.

I bought Travis the SatNav for the long drive.  Well, we called him Travis (doesn’t everyone name every item they buy?) because he could be TravNav.  I was in two minds because being a male, I have issues in asking for directions from other men, but if I ask a woman, I feel belittled. 

So with a gentle push of his buttons, I turned him on (not like that) and started our journey heading 350 miles north.  A while in to the journey my wife turned to me and said “You know that Travis has a female voice; right?”

Bugger.

So at the next stop I went in to the settings and selected a new voice.  Hmmm…so I can choose Heather or Susan?  Well Heather has been talking to me, and she sounds quite hot….hang on…no male voice?  But Travis is a He.  I think.  I mean, I didn’t actually check for the existence of a telltale package, but he looked like a he!

So I opted for Heather.  You know, coz I know 1 Heather (Locklear…yummy!) and a few Susan’s, but none of them meet the delicious Ms Locklear’s talents.

Travis was still called Travis.  He just sounded a little Un-Travislike.

A while later I decided to listen to Susan.

It was the same voice.

So I now have a SatNav called Travis with a female voice, but it’s alter-ego is the same voice but a different name.  Confused?  I bloody was!

It turns out that Travis, or whatever the hell name it has, also has the same issues…the next post will reveal all.

Excited?  No, I wouldn’t be either.  But humour me will you!

I may have to change the name  and location of this site.  It will be hosted by Afterlife Enterprises and to get there you just need to go to your local voodoo store and grab a ouija board.  OK, so the updates will be a little slow because they are spelt out letter by letter, but at least you can make a party out of it.  Everyone brings a bottle and a notepad and pen, and I will try to keep posts down to 5 words.  The first will probably be “It’s bloody hot down here!”.

Pretty simple really.  But let me explain why the name change.

A few weeks back I noticed something a little strange with my PC speakers.  When the volume is on mute, it randomly plays a French radio station.  Very loudly.  Well, I think it is French.  It is foreign and I know what Welsh sounds like, and it isn’t that, so I decided on French.  It’s freaky.  If I am sleeping, I get woken up to voices in the room.  The first time it happened, I jumped out of bed, armed myself with an empty Coke Zero can I had by the side of the bed (coz you know, why wouldn’t you.  My fists may be righteous justice, but the can just seemed to be that little something more) and went on the hunt for the voices in my head house.  Lets be honest, any burglar that looks up and a naked fat dude is standing there with a can of coke zero…well, he is going to be either long gone or laughing so hard I will be able to apprehend him by sitting on his head.

But OK, nothing bad here so far…unless you are the burglar with my bare arse on his head.

And then this weekend…. I actually done some work.

No really, a LOT of work. 

Hard work.  Digging holes, hammering posts in to the ground, erecting fencing and all that fun stuff.  Nothing impressive there except that it is about the first time in 10 years I actually done that much manual work.  I am an office monkey.  Hell, I am not even that far up the food chain.   My chair has “slouch mode” and it is stuck in it.

But then I was sore.  My hands ached, my back achesdand my toe which I dropped a stuffing big block of wood on was now as big as my head.  And that’s big.  And pretty.

So feeling a little sore and feeling the effects from the sun, I went for a lay down.

And then the speakers started again.  Only this time it wasn’t French.  It was English.  And the voice was talking about religion and how we will be saved and some other BS that I wasn’t really listening to. 

So why do my PC speakers feel I should now repent my skin and accept this juicies dude?  And why does he call himself juicies?  What do my speakers know that I don’t?

Well, I found out why.  I woke up in the middle of the night and my left arm has that ominous dull pain which you read about and it is not good news.  I also don’t feel so well.

And then this morning, my speakers picked up a radio station which was playing “Always look on the bright side of life” while I was getting dressed.

And then on the drive to work I passed a car with two nuns in it which I think had broken down.  I decided this by seeing them standing by the side of the road with the bonnet up.  I didn’t stop because they may have been axe murderers dressed up as Nuns…which you know…it could happen!

What’s worse is that I am actually not making any of this up!  OK, maybe the part about sleeping naked.  I would never turn down the chance to wear my superman jimjams.

So if the site goes quiet for…ohh..you know, forever…Ouija me up baby!  I’ll even give you the winning lottery numbers!

Talking of the site going quiet…I am taking a break.  OK fine…I am going on holiday on Friday for a week.  Where?  None of your business.  What will I be doing?  None of your business.  Will I be back?  Read above. 

So I leave the site in your capable hands to abuse as you feel. 

Alternatively, I wrote a post for another site HERE.  Have a read…I dare ya.

Do you remember when you were a kid (or maybe you are still?) and you went to a party and got given a party bag at the end?  It was almost always the same.  You would get a whistle, a chewy sweet and maybe one of those bottles where you take out the lid and blow in to it and bubbles go everywhere. 

Actually, they were supposed to but I always managed to find myself drinking the contents of the bottle  and then I turned in to a bubble machine, but boy…the bubbles were not coming out of the expected place.  I couldn’t sit down because I would slide off of the chair.  It was fun.  You know, in a “Why does god hate me” kinda fun way.

But regardless of my failings, party bags were fun.  Of course, there were always those who wished to take it further.  Beat the previous bags effort.  Do something a little “different”. 

Well, if you feel the need to find one to beat, can I suggest a trip to Paris.  Maybe to the Paris-Vincennes trotting track.  Their party bag which was shown as an advance sample recently, is a:

 Red velveteen jewellery-style box with a leaflet featuring a horse dropping on a red silk cushion. “When champions grow so do our plants” is the tag line.

They are kidding right?  I mean really…they are giving away a jewellery box of horse crap?  And not only that, it is

high-end, 100 percent natural, guaranteed non-genetically modified, French-origin

Non-genetically modified French origin poop?  So are they saying that this is pure crap rather than an old car tyre that has been changed to make it look like crap?  That’s good to know, coz you know there is nothing worse than wanting a handful of crap but instead someone gives you a McDonalds instead.  Oohhh..sorry, same thing.  I should have used a different analogy there.  No, using the word analogy is not an unusual word for me, it is just fitting that in a post about crap that it starts with anal.

They have decided that this is a great way to get rid of the 20 kilos of crap produced daily by each horse.  Or another way of wording it is “This is what we think of you…merry bloody easter you horse crap smelling dumbwit.”

I am a little curious though.  Just how big is this jewellry-box of crap that they are giving away?  Is it big enough to help grow things in your garden?  Coz you know, that’s a BIG bag.  At the end of the day will there be thousands of people carrying huge bags of  horsecrap to their cars while mentioning what a splendid day they have had and cant wait to get there hands dirty?

You can read all about the crap HERE or another way to look at is you just read this post.  Same thing, different site.

 

It’s always the same.  You are great friends with someone and then one day you have an argument, pull down his trousers and bite a chunk of his penis off. 

Because obviously why wouldn’t you?  I mean if you want to get violent, why stick to the punching and kicking when you can instead yank your mates trousers down for a little alternative sausage action?

But this is what actually happened.  In Poland (naturally). 

But at least being a true friend, he swallowed it.  That or he is an awesome player of the “hide the bitten off piece of penis” game, as they couldn’t find it anywhere.  But then, how do you explain what you are looking for? 

“OK everybody.  We are looking for the end of a guys penis.” 

And then someone is going to ask “How big is it?”

Which is going to lead to the ongoing lie about him thinking he was way better endowed than he was.  This is a natural response obviously because all of us blokes lie about that.  I as an example just a few years ago told a perspective partner that I was incredibly impressive “down there”, because I figured I had no chance.  We are now married and she often refers to me as “The lying little git”.

But back to the Polish man and his best friend.

Over the row about a trailer (it’s ALWAYS about a trailer in these penis removing fights isn’t it!) he was quoted as saying

‘He began hitting me with a chain and then pulled down my trousers and started biting. It was agony’

Really?  Agony?  Having someone bite down as hard as they can on the little guy would result in agony?  Him actually feeling the need to even say that line makes as much sense as the car insurance website I went to and at the end of the online quotation it asked as a final question “So what brought you to the site today?”

A CAR INSURANCE QUOTE YOU IDIOTS!  Honestly, what the hell.  It’s not going to be because I have a mole on my arse cheek and I want to know how to remove it now is it?  Which I don’t have…honestly.  Stop it.  No.

So there you have it.  Car insurance quotes websites ask stupid questions, and you can never be sure when your best mate is going to feel the need to chow down on your joy department.  You women are luckier than you realise.  Unless of course you are now dating Mr Milczarek of Lesna in South West Poland who is unlikely to be entering in to any sexual relations with a woman anytime this side of death.  It is thought he may well be able to get stiff a few hours after death though.

 

Original news story HERE for those who feel the need.  The photo at the top of the page was taken from…erm…hmm…I dunno, I closed Google Images a while ago.  Usual rules apply, if it is your photo…congratulations on your sausage photography abilities and ask nicely for me to remove it. 

And part two of the last post.  In case you are new to the site and cant be bothered to read the post previous to this, the words in the ” ” are quotes found in the list of keywords used in Google to find this site.  The rest…that’s just me being rude/obnoxious/sexy/awesome…delete as appropriate.   Now, if you then go back to the previous post, you will see that I have just copied and pasted that entire line.  Hey, sue me.  I cant be original ALL the damn time!

Dear Sy:  “can sex be a treatment for illness?”

Uncle Sy Says:  Of course it can.  For instance, just the other day I was having a heart attack and I insisted my wife had sex with me…and lookie here, I am still alive.  See?

Dear Sy:  “can you get stuff on your dick”

Uncle Sy Says:  A very good question.  I recommend you find out by deep frying some fish and chips, and then when the oil is used and dirty, reheat it and then stick it in there.  Let me know if it works or not.

Dear Sy:  “can you give someone a illness by having sex with them”

Uncle Sy Says:  I don’t think so.  An example of this is just the other day during sex I sneezed right in my wife’s face.  She didn’t catch my cold from that, but she went completely nuts and beat me up.  So if you are a wimpy man, be careful how you test this.

Dear Sy:  “do you have a picture of the world’s largest black penis”

Uncle Sy Says:  WHY would I have that picture?  That’s like asking me if I want a nice plate full of raw carrot.  Of course I bloody don’t.

Dear Sy:  What are some “excuses to make your penis bigger”

Uncle Sy Says:  You could take a photo of your barbie doll holding it and show it to people.  You will look very impressive.

Dear Sy:   Can you give me some “flattering comments to give”

Uncle Sy Says:  To give who?  Your Mum, girlfriend, boyfriend, dog?  I believe saying ‘who is a lovely little boy’ while talking in a childish voice and rubbing their stomach and pulling their ears works for the whole lot.  Women find it especially flattering.

Dear Sy:  Why is my “hamster jumping and squeaking”

Uncle Sy Says:  Ahhh…yes, I have seen this before.  It is because it is alive.  Holy hell…even the stupid tree kicked you out didn’t it.

Dear Sy:  Can you show me some “homeless Latinas prostitution images”

Uncle Sy Says:  Absolutely.  Here is one, if it works for you, let me know and I will post some others:

Dear Sy:  Can you tell me “how to get a drunk guys penis hard”

Uncle Sy Says:  Using the same method my wife uses on me works.  All you do is smear yourself in mackerel poo and do a dance to the song 99 red balloons.  Works every time.

Dear Sy: Can you give me tips on “how to negotiate with prostitutes”

Uncle Sy Says:   Absolutely.  You do this:  ‘hey babe.  I have £200 and you sleep with people for money.  Deal?’ and that’s it.  You are guaranteed to get some.

Dear Sy:  “I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were the last person on earth”

Uncle Sy Says:  That’s great news Mum.  I am glad we cleared that up before the apocalypse.

Dear Sy:  “what can crawl up a mans penis when in a river”

Uncle Sy Says:  A brown bear.  Yeah really.  It sneaks up and BAM!  In it goes.  You normally don’t know until he gets to your bladder, but trust me…it can sting.

Dear Sy:  Can you help me.  “What do u do if ur children can’t get over a dead hamster”

Uncle Sy Says:  I would take your kids to the doctor and tell him you have reeeeeally small children.

Dear Sy: I am wondering.  “What makes alcoholics tick”

Uncle Sy Says:  Ummm…maybe alcohol?  I mean honestly…it’s not going to be swimming or eating the lindt chocolate Easter bunny is it?