Tuesday, 28 April 2009

[Turtlewind] The Turtle Moralises

My previous attempt to have sex with the last girl who sent me an email forward failed after she found out how to block my messages. Now, however, I have completed one of her challenges with responses so nakedly honest that she will have no choice but to be filled with a desire to gaze on my naked honesty...

You've just cooked dinner for your four friends, when disaster strikes and you drop the chicken on the kitchen floor. Before you can stop him, the dog dashes in and licks it, but you get it away before he can do anything else. You have nothing else to cook. Do you own up, or do you serve the chicken up for tea? You're vegetarian anyway.

My ‘four friends’? ‘Dropping the chicken’? Is this a question about playing with yourself? That sends you blind, you know. Oh, apparently it’s just about food. The answer here is quite simple. The dog has ruined the dinner, therefore the dog must replace it. I would give it half an hour to prepare a scintillating repast, or else it would be Fido fricasée for the acolytes of the Mysterious Mr Turtlewind. Some would call this casual cruelty to animals, I call it natural selection.

You're in the supermarket car park, when in a momentary lapse of concentration, your shopping trolley scrapes somebody's new Mercedes down the side. Nobody appears to be looking. Do you own up?

The Turtle must have no fear. There’s no point in indulging in wanton vandalism without glorying in your handiwork. Accidents are for spineless cowards. So I would go back and carve the sign of the Turtle into the car, with the shopping trolley.

You're out with your mate, who starts chatting up a rather fit bloke/bird. It's obvious that said bloke/bird actually fancies you. The feeling's mutual. Who do you go home with?

A bloke/bird? It is true that I yearn for a meaningful relationship, with boobies and everything, but I like to think that I might draw the line at hermaphrodites, unless I’d had rather too many sweet sherries! However, there are also the feelings of my friend to consider. Most of my friends are actually already married (David and Jamie) so I’d heroically take the bullet and pull the shemale, then indulge in extremely naughty carnal acts at a high volume in my friend’s garden, to remind him what a good mate I am to prevent him commiting adultery thusly.

One of your employees does a fantastic piece of work, which your boss has seen. The boss comes over to congratulate you, but seems to think you did it. Who gets the credit?

I call no man ‘boss’. Mine is a lonely path. If, however, I was on another deep cover mission that required that I appear subservient to a flaccid middle manager, I suppose I would point out the underling that had so impressed him. Although Barry and I would be waiting in the car park with Mr Stabby later to impress upon the whelp the importance of putting your name on things in the first place.

You're walking along the high street and an old lady drops a bundle of 20 pound notes on the pavement. You're broke. The gas bill needs paying and you wanted some new shoes for Friday night. What would you do?

Please bear in mind that I am a God-like figure, and so must be judged by higher standards than you. For mysterious divine reasons I would take the money, stick it in my sock along with a large amount of sand, catch up with the old lady and smack her round the head with it (this is important, as if detained by the nice men at the Police Station, I could claim I was ‘returning’ her money ‘enthusiastically’). Then I’d go through all her stuff to see if there was any more cash. After that, I’d scamper down to the canal to get a lift on one of my favourite getaway barges. Teehee. Oh, and I’d steal her shoes as well, so I could save the cash to use on scoring some smack.

You're skint. No going out for you this weekend. You'd like to have enough change left from your groceries, though, to buy a bottle of vino with which to console yourself as you watch dire weekend TV. If you don't buy your usual Fair Trade tea, coffee and the like, you'll just about scrape a bottle of plonk. Do you?

Those tree-hugging Fair Traders might act nice, but they were terribly rude to me when I offered them the opportunity to endorse my stinging nettle soap. So I’d get the wine, and kick down the coffee aisle, which is surprisingly easy to do if you know what you’re doing...

You are an inmate in a prison camp. A vicious guard is about to hang your son who tried to escape and wants you to pull the chair from underneath his feet. He says that if you don't he will not only kill your son but at least one other prisoner. You know that he means it. What do you do?

Now this did actually happen to me once. Not as an inmate, because to have a son you have to have, you know, ‘naughty-bumpy’. But my earliest memory had a certain ‘noosey’ quality. As I recall, I soiled myself. On my father’s head. The noble and paternal Mr _____________ said something bad, which the guard took as a gesture of defiance... ‘Dangling infant becomes sole survivor of Hypothetical Camp inferno’ is the first clipping in my scrapbook.

A man who has threatened to explode several bombs in crowded areas has been arrested. He has already planted the bombs and if they go off, many people will die. He won't say a word, and the only way to make him is by torture. Do you do it?

This is a silly question. Torture is wrong. There are always options. For example, I find it very effective, when eliciting information from reluctant sources, to whisper gently into the suspect’s ear: ‘Listen son, there’s no specific law that says I can’t piss in your hair.’

You're a therapist and one of your patients has just told you that he intends to kill his wife. You don't think he's fantasising. What do you do?

Oh come on! The whole reason I BECAME a therapist was to hear that kind of gossip! I’d be straight down the pub to sit in front of a rapt audience of concussed tramps and say things like: ‘Well, looks like there’s trouble in paradise THERE, who was it said they’d only give them six months?’ I’d get so much respect that if the patient stumbled in just before last orders with blood soaking into his light blue shirt, I’d even buy him a pint. OK, a half.

(There is a lot of detail in this last response. That’s because I have a vivid imagination and have never done anything like this. If you wish to argue, please bear in mind that there’s no specific law that says I can’t piss in your hair)

Your best friend tells you that he has committed a particular crime and you promise never to tell. However, you discover that an innocent person has been accused of the crime and will be spending several months in prison unless your friend confesses. You plead with him to give himself up but he won't. What do you do?

A friend is someone who will be there when you need them. A true friend is someone who helps hide the bodies. If I had many friends, I’d expect them all to frame postmen to keep me out of jail, so it’s the least I can do for one of them. Whatever happened to loyalty?

I hope this will help show you the way next time you are in a quandary. Just think to yourselves, 'what would Turtlewind do?' More often than not, everything will become clear.

Happy times and places
Your friend, the mysterious Mr Turtlewind, Esq

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