Dear Frankie,

I’m hoping you can help me with a problem. I went off on holidays to Donegal last month with a couple of the lads.

We didn’t break any Covid rules, we all work together in the County Council and are in each other’s company every day, so that was grand.

Anyway, long story short I met an American girl up there and we got talking and, sure you know yourself, one thing led to the other and all that.

Anyway I’ve been home nearly a fortnight now and my heart is scalded writing to you but I don’t know what to do.

I think I might have some kind of disease of the penis. It’s red and raw and itchy and sore and I’ve tried putting cream and stuff on it, but nothing works. This has never happened to me before, Frankie, you have to believe me. But I can’t go and see a doctor about this, I’d rather die. Is there any cure you know of that doesn’t involve doctors?


A;You went to Donegal and you did WHAT??? Are you completely insane? “We didn’t break any Covid rules” you said.

What about social distancing? I mean there’s breaking the rules and then there’s going on a suicide mission! What a tosspot you are. And no, I don’t know of any cure for a diseased willy, totally self-inflicted (well, you know what I mean).

Get yourself to a clinic in Dublin toute suite, you stupid boy. Do you think they’ll give a tuppeny who you are? If you don’t seek treatment, quite apart from infecting other people, you face the possibility of blindness, madness and death, although you seem to be already suffering from blindness and madness.

Go get yourself sorted, you witless fool.


Dear Frankie, I’ve been minding my elderly father for nearly five years now, his mind is gone astray and he’s not able to care for himself. But last week in a rare lucid moment he showed me his last will and testament. I’m his only offspring, my mother is dead nearly forty years, and yet he is leaving everything – the house, the farm, lock stock and barrel to some cousin in Chicago who I’ve never even met.

When I challenged him, he said it was because the cousin is a man – he wouldn’t leave a woman to look after the place! This cousin is, apparently, the only male heir. But surely I’m entitled to everything, not some stranger in America?


What a horrible man your father is. The answer to your problem is simple. Burn the original will and make a new one, with you as the sole beneficiary. Forge your father’s signature (make sure it’s a convincing fake), backdate it to a time when he was fully compos mentis and that’s it. Bob’s your uncle. When the old curmudgeon corks it, you’re sorted. Next?