LIVING IN CLOUD-CUCKOO LAND?  YOU MIGHT BE.  ESPECIALLY IF YOUR ANYTHING LIKE 

POOR, THIN, UGLY HOUSEWIFE JOAN FROM DORSET IN THE SOUTH OF THE COUNTRY.

DESPITE HER FRAILTY ,JOAN PICKS UP THE STORY. 

                                           " It was a Monday, a normal Monday morning. I distinctly remember the 

                                             normality of it. Anyway, there's me, dressed in my Morris Dancing 

                                             outfit, at work, where I pluck fowl for a 'Fowl Plucking' distribution   

                                              company.  I don't agree with plucking dead birds but at least their  

                                               already dead, and a jobs a job.

                                              I was just finishing off the fluff from the rear of a rather plump,

                                              unfortunate pheasant, when I realized my hands were covered in what

                                               I can only describe as bleeding big effin wart like tumors that stank 

                                               like effin puke."

 

AT THIS POINT JOAN SUDDENLY BURST INTO TEARS, APOLOGIZING FOR HER BAD-MOUTH.

THEN JUST AS DRAMATICALLY, SHE BEGAN BASHING THE DEAD PHEASANT AGAINST THE 

WALL SCREAMING,     " CURSE YOU AND YOUR FILTHY BABIES".!!!

WE OFFERED HER SOME MORPHINE, THEN SHE CALMED AND CONTINUED.....

                                                         "Sorry about that. But you see what I mean. I never used to be

                                                            like this! It's only since I been using Witch-Hazel!"

JOAN ISN'T ALONE. THE PLANET VACANT MAILBAG SAYS SHE'S HEARD LOADS OF STORIES

LIKE THIS ABOUT THE SIDE-AFFECTS OF WITCH-HAZEL, INCLUDING ONE FRIEND OF HERS WHO 

BUTCHERED A GOAT AT A SACRIFICIAL MIDNIGHT COVEN GATHERING IN A DISUSED QUARRY

NEAR HEMEL-HEMPSTED, DOWN SOUTH.

 PROFFESSOR  NORMAN Le-CATURER, A LECTURER IN THE PARANORMAL AT THE UNIVERSITY OF BRADFORD, UP NORTH, SAID HE WASN'T SURPRISED.  WHAT'S MORE,  HE TOLD US  LOTS OF OTHER STORIES ABOUT THE STRANGE WORLD OF THE OCCULT.      QUOTE...

"Je ne suis pas dan's une jardin avec une fils sans pantyhose est un botile de Witch-Hazel."  

WE WERE HORRIFIED TO HEAR THIS, ESPECIALLY IN FRENCH!  SO WE DECIDED TO TAKE UP THE CASE FOR JOAN. AFTER ALL, SHE WAS THIN WITH DEATH BREATHING OVER HER SHOULDER.

WE CALLED THE OFFICES OF   'SMITHSON'S INTELLIGENT HERBAL COMMODITIES'  AT THEIR BASINGSTOKE ADDRESS, ONLY TO BE INFORMED THAT THEY'D MOVED SOME TWELVE YEARS EARLIER. 

JOAN CONTINUED....  "I should be burned on a steak!  My intestines deserve to ripped out by a mob. I've not washed in weeks. LOOK HOW EFFIN FILTHY I AM!!!!!

 AGAIN HER TONE BECAME VIOLENT AND WITCH-LIKE AS SHE RIPPED THE LIMBS FROM A FRESHLY PLUCKED QUAIL. WE'D SEEN ENOUGH.  THE SUNKEN EYE'S, THE DROOLING, THE GREEN SLIME FROM HER ONCE INNOCENT NOSTRILS, THE WAY SHE PRONOUNCED GAMMONED....!!

IT WAS CLEAR TO ALL ON SUNDAY THAT SOMETHING WASN'T RIGHT WITH JOAN.

DON'T FALL FOWL OF THE SAME YOURSELF READERS. THE WORLD OF ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE, THOUGH THOUSANDS OF YEARS OLD, IS STILL IN IT'S INFANCY.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED..........   

NEXT TIME..       VITAMIN C AND THE FREEMASONS.    A DANGEROUS COCKTAIL...

 SIGNING OFF....   DICK KAKERGARD.

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