Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #71 The King of Wands 9-15th March 2015

King Wands

King of Ruddy Wands. You know he is going to be a disappointment before you have even met him. Like that king Dong fellow, or Big John Holmes. All wand and not much ruddy magic. You know the type. All their brains are in their bell end and if they try to use it properly, more often than not, they will pass out from expending the effort because they haven’t got enough blood to service their how’s your father and the rest of their body at the same time.

Like that Jeremy ruddy Clarkson. Not that he has much of an how’s your father, or so I’ve heard. Apparently it’s not like the king of wands, not even a king prawn, but just an ordinary prawn; “prawnus minimus” as the Romans used to say. But that’s not the point. The fact is that his head is that big that it takes a big proportion of his blood to get his brain working on anything more complicated than talking about cars and being mildly offensive. If he tries to think about much else, he faints. Poor so and so.

The he thing with the King of Wands is it represents dysmorphia. That’s when you are not happy with how your body looks. You can tell that the king on this card isn’t happy. Look at the way he is holding his ruddy wand. That’s not a proud grip, it’s a limp wristed effort. And look at the way he is regarding it with disdain. That’s just the disdainful way that I used to regard my Raymond’s wand when I was wondering whether it was worth going to the effort of keeping him sweet.

The thing is, that if you start regarding yourself with disdain, then you are not going to look after yourself properly. See that little lizard thing in the foreground, looking hungrily at the kings wand? It’s thinking that if the king is regarding his wand with a face like that, he might not mind a lizard nibbling on it. He might not even notice until  it’s too ruddy late and there are little lizard teethmarks all along the length of it, and it’s no longer fit for ruddy purpose.

i’m not saying that all neglected wands are prone to attracting lizards, but everyone knows about the risk of crabs. And beside that there’s ringworms, threadworms, athlete’s shaft, and all sorts of other infections and pestilence to beware of. And that’s just a wand. If you are the proud owner of a tuppence or a pair of milkies, they are just as vulnerable if you turn dysmorphia on them. So if you draw this card, think on.

Four things that you might do this week. (i) learn to love your body. Whatever cards you have been dealt, they are the ones you have to play with. There’s not much use in deciding that you aren’t happy with this that or the other, unless you are a ruddy rich masochist who can afford that plastic surgery. And heaven knows that can have tragic results. Look at what happened to that Michael Jackson. He changed ruddy colour and couldn’t do a thing with his hairs afterwards. And he had to hold his nose in place with an elastic band. (ii) treat yourself to a nice hot bath. Put some bath salts in it an’all. Only don’t go washing your hair in it if it’s got bath salts in. It makes it go all dry and bitty. Don’t go accidentally drinking any of it with bath salts in either. That can drive you doollalley. And besides, it’s addictive. Stick to the sherry. (iii) Put some cream on your bits, to ward off lizards, crabs, prawns and Jeremy Clarkson and his ilk. To be honest I would rather have a lizard messing about with my bits than that Jeremy Clarkson. He makes my ruddy flesh crawl he does. (iv) Remember that you are beautiful in your own way, like that Ray Stevens usee to say before he turned filthy and got obsessed with people running around without any clothes on.

Auntie Doris in the 21st Century #6: Celebrities


Everyone seems to be ruddy well celebrity mad these days. I know that we had celebrities in my day. Norman Wisdom for a start, and Fanny Craddock, Mohammed Ali, Bing Crosby, Mike and Bernie Winters, they were all good at something. They had talent first and celebrity status second. Yes, I know that we liked to read a bit about them in the papers. But we weren’t celebrity mad. We didn’t want to know the ins and outs of everything to do with them. All the details of their love lives, how they were struggling with their diets, and who they had fallen out with. Basically we wanted to know if they were making another film, or record, or television programme. I never even knew that Liberace liked having carnal relations with men. Not that I would have been bothered if I did know. He was a ruddy good pianist and he had some lovely jewelry. That’s all I needed to know. We all knew that Morecambe and Wise slept together, but no one was bothered about that. They were funny men who made us laugh. We never even wondered what their wives thought of their sleeping arrangements. It was none of our ruddy business.
I suppose that the difference is that these days there are too many celebrities without any talent to speak of. Noel Edmonds, Jeremy Clarkson, Phil Collins, Fern Cotton, Christa Ackroyd, the list is endless. “Personalities,” not experts or entertainers. “personalities,” Celebrities” Nobody is really bothered when they are doing something new. They just want the ruddy gossip.
That’s where that Rupert Murdoch came unstuck. He got the people who worked for his newspaper “The News of the World” to tap the computerised telephones of celebrities and find out the stuff that they didn’t want us to know about. And the celebrities were up in arms about it. Phil Collins thought that his male pattern baldness was one of the best kept secrets in showbusiness, So did Noel Edmonds. And Jeremy Clarkson… Well, we all know what’s wrong with men who are obsessed with big cars, and I suppose that’s why he ordered them suction tubes from that clinic in London.
Any Road, there was questions asked in Parliament about it, and Murdoch had to pretend that he didn’t know what had been going on, and change the name of the “News of the World” to the “Sunday Sun” so that he could continue to print his salaciaous shite, but this time only finding it out by rifling through peoples dustbins rather than messing with their telephones.
So now the only people who are allowed to fiddle with peoples computerised telephones are the hackers on the internet. And they are so good at it, that Celebrities have had to stop taking photographs of themselves without any clothes on. Unless they actually want all and sundry to be slavering all over their images and thinking lewd thoughts.
Which I suppose most of them do. That’s why they became celebrities in the first place. Particularly Jeremy Clarkson. He ruddy revels in it. It makes him feel important in a way that his tiny little stump of a personality never could.