Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week. #66 The Four of Wands – 2-8 February 2015


Well.. one of us has got themselves in the family way, and its not me, I’ll tell you that for nothing. So if its not exactly you,  its someone close to you. And if you don’t know anyone close to you that’s in the family way, then they haven’t told you yet, probably because it was more than likely unplanned. Any road, you had better get those knitting patterns for bonnets and bootees out and get ruddy well cracking.

How do I know? well its simple when you know your cards. Four strong staffs, bursting with goodness, standing vertical. Someone has had the idea that if you do it standing up, you cant possibly conceive. Obviously that’s a load of old nonsense. Have you seen the length of those things? They are like them ruddy exocet rissoles. They can accurately place the gravy within a fraction of a millimetre of an egg whether the parties concerned are horizontal, vertical diagonal, inverted, animal, vegetable, or mineral. (although I’m not sure that you can get mineral eggs, but you could try boiling them in mineral water – whatever that is, when its all at home) The standing up method of birth control may work with men of a certain age who haven’t got the stamina to remain in the upright position for very long and do not scatter their seed with quite the same gusto as the young men in the parables, but I wouldn’t risk it, even with my Raymond, and sometimes he couldn’t even hit a dinnerplate with his gravy, especially after a Sunday morning Session at the Rose and Crown. Many’s the time I had to put the tablecloth on a boil wash.

Any road, just because its unexpected, doesn’t mean that it isn’t a cause for celebration.  There’s the happy couple in the background, waving their pom-poms about.  Of course, sometimes the ruddy bloke makes himself scarce as soon as there is a whiff of nappy in the air. Like My sister Pearl’s chap, American soldier he was stationed round here during the war. Took her for a magical weekend in Blackpool, but as soon as he realised she was expecting he had scuttled off back to Cincinnati, probably before his wand was properly dry. Pearl was left to look after Little Walter, although my mother pretended that he was hers, so nobody found out, but they had their suspicion when Pearl married Uncle George and “adopted” him.

Four things that you might do this week. (i) Invest in some protection. There’s allsorts you can get nowadays for both men and women. Even things made out of goats bladders for people who are allergic to rubber. Although If my Raymomd had ever come at me with a goat’s innards wrapped around his thing I would have hit him on the end of it with a spoon quick sticks. I’ll tell you that for nothing. (ii) Invest in some knitting needles and some pink or blue wool. You can easily determine the sex of an unborn child by putting your keys on a shoelace and twizzling them over the woman’s belly. If they go clockwise its a boy, anti clockwise its a girl. Unless you live in the Southern Hemisphere, where its the other way on, like most things are in that part of the world. (iii) Invest in a decent gravy boat to increase the chances of hitting the plate rather than the tablecloth. But why ever anyone would want gravy on their eggs, The Lord alone knows. Save it for Sunday dinner. which is a good rule of thumb for many things in life. (iv) Invest in a plastic tablecloth, they do all sorts of designs these days, and they just wipe clean, which is better for the environment than adding to global warning with boil washes. Get some plastic mattress protectors while you are at it. I think that they also make mattress protectors out of goats bladders. The filthy so and sos.


Auntie Doris’s Mysteries of the Unexplained #6: Mary Toft: the Rabbit Woman


It happened in 1726, in Goldaming, Surrey. If you ask me, them Southerners have always been funny customers, but Mary Toft was the queerest of the lot. She only went and gave birth to a rabbit. Well, to be more precise, a cats body with an eel’s spine stuffed into it, and a rabbits head, and half its ruddy innards hanging out. Of course, the poor little thing was stillborn.
She claimed that whilst she was pregnant she had been startled by a rabbit in the fields near her house, and believed that it had somehow had an effect on the unborn child in her belly.
Well actually, if the truth be known, her and her husband had stitched the ruddy thing together and shoved it up her chuff, in order to draw attention to themselves, in the hope of her becoming famous and making a fortune out of it. Mary certainly became famous, but she never made a fortune. And unfortunately, on the road to fame, she felt it necessary to shove another sixteen rabbits, mixed with other creatures inside herself, and squeeze them out in the presence of all sorts of famous physicians and experts. Some of whom were sent to examine her by King George the first himself.
She got into all the newspapers and had all pamphlets and things written about her. If she had been alive today, there’s no doubt she would have ended up on the television with Jeremy Kyle shouting at her, before she went into the celebrity big brother house. The things people do in the misguided attempt to get famous! I have even heard of a bloke who tries to draw attention to himself by parading around in dead women’s tights. Does it make them happy? That’s what I want to know.
Any road, poor old Mary ended up with that toxic shock syndrome. You can’t go shoving dead rabbits up your front bottom willy nilly and expect that there won’t be any consequences to your health. Our Madge told me that she had got drunk one Christmas and attempted to pleasure herself with a turkey drumstick, but at least she had run it under the tap first. And she never claimed to have given birth to a load of little turkeys. Even though she could probably have got herself a nice little job on Bernard Matthews’ Norfolk Farms if she had.
They found Mary out by locking her up in a cell where she had no access to rabbits. She bribed a guard to sneak her a rabbit in. The Lord alone knows what she bribed him with. Surely he didn’t fancy rummaging around in her warren with his truncheon? Mind you, all men are filthy so and sos when it boils down to it, so he probably did.
Funnily enough, in Victorian days, Mary Jane Merrick was startled by an elephant on a visit to the Circus, and later gave birth to Joseph Merrick, the Elephant Man.
These days, nobody really believes that being startled by something during pregnancy has any effect on the character or appearance of the unborn child. But then again, in the summer of 1966 a pregnant woman by the name of Mary Fleur was startled when she slipped after treading on a horrible oily turd. She went on to deliver a son, David Cameron, who grew up to be the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. But not for very long.