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The Brutal Truth – PFPT Turns Agony Aunt

Model Number Minus Two - Boxing Gloves

Yeah, go on, tell me your troubles. I dare you.

Recently, one of my weekly witterings was featured on the WordPress dashboard and while that’s a huge accolade (actually, not to brag but it’s my second experience of being “Freshly Pressed”. Ok, I’m totally bragging but hey, let’s not pretend you wouldn’t do the same), it hasn’t come without its baggage. Yes, this was a huge boost to the ego, and stopped me dead in my tracks just as I was telling a friend that I was going to quit all this blogging malarkey due to thinking I’m a bit pants, it was also a HUGE boost in hits and subscribers. The trouble is, what these people had all read and signed up for, was a heartfelt, rare moment of emotional outpouring. The truth of the matter is that here on Pretty Feet, Pop Toe I’m more likely to be threatening eye pokes, shin kicks and spewing venom and rage at anything and anyone who isn’t me.

Well, seeing as how a vast number of people mistook me for some sort of relationship guru and great supporter of all things emotional, I’ve decided to turn my hand to being an agony aunt for this week. This is definitely going to end well.

I didn’t have time to ask you lot for your weird and sordid problems in advance so we’re going to have to make do with ones I gleaned by eaves dropping at a church confessional. Not really, as IF I’d set foot inside a church! I made them up.

Dear PFPT,

My son is 34 and still lives at home. He hasn’t had a job for over a year and says there are none out there but I’m getting sick of him lying on my sofa all day, eating food that I’ve paid for. How can I help him?


Apron Strings

PFPT: Dear Apron Strings, send him to the shops for some sweets with the free “pocket money” you keep doling out, then when he’s out of sight, lock the doors and get yourself a pet to mollycoddle like a baby instead. If he won’t get off the sofa, setting it alight should see him move pretty sharpish.

Dear PFPT,

My friends say I drink too much and that I spend all my time in the pub so I must be an alcoholic. I tell them I can handle it and that I just like a drink. Do you think I have a drinking problem?



PFPT: I’m sorry, you seem to have your problem all wrong. I think what you mean to say is “my friends are all boring judgemental gits”. You sound like fun. When you’ve ditched your sanctimonious social crew, call me!

Dear PFPT,

Recently I’ve been noticing some odd behaviour from my husband. He always comes home from work late and is very secretive of his phone, plus the sex has all but gone from our relationship. Do you think he could be having an affair?



PFPT: Probably. She’s also probably half your age, half your size, has perky boobs and hasn’t squirted out three kids, like you have. Get yourself a bloody good lawyer and a toyboy.

Dear PFPT,

I realised some time ago that I’m gay but I’m scared to come out to my friends and family in case they reject me. What should I do?



PFPT: Well Closeted, what you do behind closed doors is your own business and it’s up to you who you tell, however, there are millions of fag hags across the globe desperate for their own personal woolly-woofter and they’re currently sat at home, alone, with no-one to sing disco tunes and bitch about the Kardashians’ posteriors with. Don’t deprive them any longer. Oh, and how are you going to find a hot husband if you’re still pretending you want a hot wife?! 

Dear PFPT,

I’m being bullied at work by my colleague who constantly undermines me and calls me names in front of everyone. I feel so low that I’m thinking of quitting the job I love. How should I handle this professionally?


Fish Breath

PFPT: Being a consummate professional myself, I know exactly how to handle problems in the work place. Take a dump in their desk drawer. If that doesn’t work, take another dump in their drawer and tell HR they keep human faeces in their desk. Job done, in more ways than one.

Dear PFPT,

I’ve been with my boyfriend for 3 years and I desperately want a baby but he doesn’t. I know he’ll come round to the idea and love it eventually. Shall I trick him into having one anyway?


Hungry Uterus

PFPT: Yes, and then after you’ve stolen his man-seeds, go and drain all his money too and then explain to your child why Daddy threw himself under a train. Seriously? If you’re that desperate for stretch marks and cracked nipples, go and have an anonymous one night stand and hope he’s not a serial killer. Personally, I’ll be rooting for the serial killer.

Dear PFPT,

I’m madly in love with a close friend but he says he doesn’t love me back, even though I’m pretty sure he does. What can I do to make him see sense?



PFPT: So, he told you he doesn’t love you? There’s a really complex hidden reason for this, but let me strip away all the jargon and double meanings – the reason he told you he doesn’t love you is because HE DOESN’T LOVE YOU. You’re welcome.

Dear PFPT,

I’m thinking of brightening up my home with some pot plants that are simple to maintain and produce brightly coloured flowers. Any suggestions?


Green Fingers


There you have it folks, my caring, sharing, warm and fuzzy side, laid bare for all to see was clearly some freak magnetic storm passing overhead or hormonal episode. If you want my advice, be warned, I really will give it to you and you probably won’t like it. Now, for those of you brave enough, I dare you to send your problems my way using the comments section below for some good old fashioned PFPT tough love! Oh, and remember, a problem shared is a problem we can all gossip about.

About prettyfeetpoptoe

I live in London and have both my own legs so I am fortunate enough to get out and about on occasion. I form many views on the things that I see and do and love nothing better than a session of linguistic gymnastics in order to share these views.

26 responses »

  1. Well, well, as a former Agony Aunt for a brief spell myself – I think with a little training you could earn a vast fortune at this new career! If you have any problems with it, just get out the green pen and drop me a note….

  2. PFPT,
    I think we can all rest assured that “Dear Abby” has not found a suitable successor yet. Having said that, I would like to follow with the thought that, those “issues” you made up are very close to truth if not truth from others I have heard over the years (being a teacher had its perks). Your answers, though not what the cooing therapists would prance out at $200/hr. were,um, correct. The only one I am not sure about is the the office guy. If you defecate in the guys drawer it does leave DNA. Over here, OSHA would be all over that s**t.

    • Ok, I admit it, I WAS in church eaves dropping by the confessional. I also pinched a litre of communion wine and a couple of wafers.

      I might start charging for this kind of advice. $200 per hour, you say? Hmmm Make it $300!

      The DNA thing. Yeah, it’s a minor draw back, but then, the sweetest revenge is not without penalty and THAT is a lesson we all could learn.

  3. Great stuff!

    But I have to agree with with kindredspirit23, the desk drawer one was a bit iffy (or should that be sniffy?)

    Once again, you have managed to both amuse me and repulse me at the same time. I’m pretty sure that’s not good for my emotional well-being. As if I didn’t have enough psychological wounds to put bandages on. If I need to seek psychiatric help to deal with all this emotional distress, can I send the bill to you?

  4. Dear Abbey,

    I know a blogger who has been “Freshly Pressed” twice and I find myself being incredibly jealous as I haven’t received such an eminent accolade – the fact that I rarely write posts, and when I do it is with the literary dexterity of a 5 year old with ADD wielding a broken crayon, may have something to do with it, but instead I choose to believe that it is because I am being discriminated against.

    What should I do?
    Should I hack into her WordPress account and steal every new post she does, delete them, and then publish them as my own?
    I have tried stalking her, but every time I park my van opposite her place the police move me on (maybe I should remove the sign on the van saying “Stalkers R Us”).
    Or maybe I could have her arrested, as I hear she has a wont to go around poking kittens in the eye.

    Anything ideas? I’m getting desperate here.

    (name changed to protect my identity)

    • Dear Beardy,

      *yawn* have you finished griping and moaning yet? What I suggest you do is spend less time trying to hack into the sites of HUGELY successful, talented and beautiful bloggers, and more time practicing your alphabet.

      P.S. Your stalking leaves much to be desired. I totally saw you hiding in my bathroom cabinet this morning. Sorry about the smell.

  5. You’re hysterical!

    BTW…did your Annoying Colleague ever find that present in her drawer?

  6. Crapping in drawers is fine advice. You are fast becoming the Jeremy Kyle of da Blog world.

  7. Brilliant! Monkeys throw poo, we can, too!
    Ooo, I’ve just given you a new subtitle for your site. That will be three cases of toilet paper, please.

  8. LOVE IT! Couldn’t stop laughing my arse off.. LOLOLOL…..

  9. Hahahahaha. This is fantastic. Thanks for brightening up my day, it was definitely needed 🙂

  10. Diego Serrano

    As usual, nice work PFPT. Congrats on being pressed…you deserve it.

  11. You’ve reminded me why I would never be an agony aunt – apart from the whole gender issue implicit in the title there – thank you for that. You may have saved my life. You’ve certainly saved the lives of countless others. Nuff said…

  12. There are no words to describe what I truly feel about this blog post, apart from I think SHEER UNADULTERATED LOVE. Please keep blogging! (And being freshly pressed which is awesome) Your snark and wit brightens my day, and your advice is strangely sound!


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