Dr Scary's Problem Page

Dr Scary's Problem Page

Dear Dr Scary

I am a grown man in his early 40s. I'm happily married and enjoying the best that life has to offer.

However, I am disturbed by a dream I keep having, which has replaced my 'scoring the winning goal in the Cup Final before sharing the team bath with Nigella Lawson, Sarah Beeny and Kirstie Allsop' one every night for a week.

In my dream, I am at the auditions for the popular TV talent show 'The X Factor', held at our local swimming baths. Instead of singing, I have a large, red model of a racing car built out of Lego which I present to Simon Cowell, who is the only judge who has bothered to turn up.

Simon is clearly impressed by my long, sleek racing car, and offers to take a closer look. Unfortunately, due to the crush of people who have turned up for the auditions, not to mention all the people who have simply come along to have a swim, it got damaged in the crush, and one of the wheels fell off.

Cowell looks me in the eye and says: "I'm sorry, I can't put you through to Boot Camp."

Then I wake up and my pillow is missing.

Help me Dr Scary - what can this mean?

Yours,

Name and Address Supplied


Dear Dave "Davey" Davies of 13, The Larches, Enfield,

In my many years of interpreting dreams, I have never come across one as complex and disturbing as yours.

The racing car is clearly phallic in nature, and you clearly your wanton desire to plunge your high-octane ribbed manhood into the teaming maelstrom that is the vaginal swimming pool.

Alas, the wheel coming off reveals that you are impotent, limp as a month-old stick of celery, and despite the cheerful introduction of this letter, you are clearly in despair because you are unable to get it up.

You are, Mr Floppy, also gay for Simon Cowell, and long for the day he spurts his salty man-jizz all over your rancid little face.

You disgust me.

Hope this helps.

Your pal,

Dr Scary