Dear John,

Hi to sexy girls everywhere! Sorry, John, I don't include you in that. My problem is one of the heart.

I have been walking around my local Debenhams for ten years now, with a Netto carrier bag full of Big Martha's Jumbo Jamrags (for me arse), trying to pluck up the courage to buy some sexy satin knickers to match my sexy satin bra (which is also in my Netto bag). I remember once, a sales assitant in sexy satin stockings asked if she could help me and I came on the spot. She panicked, called security, and, alas, I had to strike her.

Anyway, how do you think I can get around that moment when I go up to the till and the girl-thing says, "How would you like to pay, sir?" Should I blurt it all out, say I'm a transvestite and ask her to marry me?

Oh my, I'm so excited! Help me, John, help me, I'm coming, ooooh my God, I can taste the satin wings of the Virgin Mary.... Oh my, it's a miracle! I'm raggin' (as the lads in the chat rooms say when a woman disses 'em). Praise the Lord!

The Sorcerer's Apprentice (aka Nigel Colinforth, Flat 2a, Rent Street, Barnsley).

Nigel, I know you asked me not to print your real name and address but I would never forgive myself if I didn't. A copy of your letter has been forwarded to the tap room of the The Double Ended Dildo, Rank Cunt Hole, Rotherham. Yer got yer kickin boots on, lads?
-JL