Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #59: The Nine of Wands – 15th – 21st December 2014

My Raymond came back from the war with a face as long as a wet weekend in Mablethorpe. At first I thought it was because he had seen terrible things that no man should see. He had. Of course he had. But that wasn’t what was bothering him. What was really bothering him was that he had been living in close quarters with a load of other blokes and he couldn’t help noticing that his John Thomas was the smallest one in the whole battalion. Well he might have helped noticing it, if everyone else in the whole battalion hadn’t taken the trouble to point it out to him, on a regular basis. They used to call him all sorts of funny names: “Titch”, “Tiny”, “Stubby”, “Midge”, they eventually settled on “winkle.” Whenever he wanted to go for a wee, they used to offer him a pin, to fish it out of his flyhole with. They weren’t really being cruel. They were just being men. And he joined in with calling everyone else by their nicknames, Carrot tops, Conky, Rubberlips, Donkey…. I met Donkey once, and asked him why my Raymond called him by that name. “Ohh,” he said… “Ee aww… Ee aww…. Ee aww-ways calls me that!” Soft beggar.
Any road, even though he used to join in, you could tell that it got to him deep down, and he was worried about the size of his diddle. I told him that it wasn’t the size that mattered, but how he used it. But if the truth be known, he wasn’t all that ruddy good at using it either, and I could tell he wasn’t convinced. So eventually he went and bought himself this thing out of one of those magazines that he kept in the shed. It was like a glass jar that he put over the ruddy thing and then sucked all the air out through a plastic pipe. He spent hours on end in the shed with it. He thought I didn’t know about it, or them magazines neither. I think he secretly enjoyed sucking on that plastic pipe. Of course, it didn’t make a hap’orth of difference to the size of his Werther’s but it changed the ruddy colour of it, from pink to red, and then from red to black and blue. By the time he had finished with it, it was even less use than it had been in the first place. It made his eyes water just to touch it, never mind trying to have carnal relations with it. If it hadn’t have been for Arthur Knaggs, I would have had to please myself.
But hark at me, telling you the family secrets, when I ought to be telling your fortune or something.
Well.. The poor soul on the nine of wands has been worrying about the size of his equipment an’all. Typical ruddy bloke, he’s been throwing his weight around and trying to prove that his is bigger than anyone else’s. And it’s earned him a bashing on the knapper trying to prove it. The thing is, his wand is just as good as anyone else’s anyway, with all stuff sprouting out of the end of it, so he needn’t have bothered getting himself all worked up about it. He could have saved himself a headache.
Four things that you might do this week. (i) decide to be contented with what the Good Lord has given you. Wether it’s an Arthur Ridley, a Harry Belafonte, or a Norman St John Stevas. Use it wisely and it will be your friend forever. (ii) that goes for women too. We can’t all have bosoms like Dolly Parton, and if you go dabbling with what nature intended, don’t be surprised if they explode the next time you get on an aeroplane, and that’s not just messy and embarrassing, you can get sent away for it these days under the prevention of terrorism act. And once the CIA have got you in that Montego Bay, they will be motor boating you and everything. Filthy so and so’s. (iii) if you feel the urge to go sucking all the air out of a glass jar with a plastic tube, remember, nature abhors a vacuum, and anybody with any sense abhors somebody who messes about sucking all the air out of a glass jar. Particularly if they have it clamped over their privates. (iv) Be nice about nicknames. If you can’t call people something nice, like snuggles, or honey bun, or dearie, don’t ruddy bother calling them anything apart from the name that the good Lord gave them. Or at least the vicar did, on the good Lord’s behalf. After consulting with their parents.

2 thoughts on “Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #59: The Nine of Wands – 15th – 21st December 2014

  1. Cruelty has no bounds Auntie- at a job I had once the boss had a suite of his own- he went on holiday, repairs were carried out. A pump thingy like your Raymond’s was found hidden by the worst possible chaps and bandied about the job sight. We put a sausage in it to see if it worked. Poor Raymond’s tackle, if the sausage could cry out…the lads up there probably still have that nasty thing..

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