Clara Endon from the Neots asks,

“Dear Auntie Evans,

I’ve recently started working in a pub, and the amount of money I’m spending on travel, plus the late finishes and long journeys back, are starting to seriously eat into my leisure time. Is there a solution?”

Evans Responds:

“Clara, you’ve come to exactly the right aunt. I mean, man.

Working in a pub can be great fun, especially if one or more of your friends work there too. Never mind the fact you’ve never worked in a pub before and seem incapable of not overpouring every single ale, you’ll soon learn to disguise this by regularly emptying the drip trays.

Now, onto the residential situation. If you’re lucky like me, the pub will be owned by an American with aspirations of a B&B but who lacks – at least for now – the resources to spend extortionate amounts of money bringing the neglected upstairs accommodation up to a standard that a respectable human being – or even any human being – would want to spend eighty quid a night to sleep in. This may be helped by the previous landlord having neglected the property to the extent that there are holes in the ceilings and the toilet seat is coming off.

These dilapidations are your chance – seize with gusto any offer of renting a room above the establishment, even if it lacks a usable kitchen.

Lacks a usable kitchen you say? Yes. But who needs a kitchen? You’ll be living above a pub. As a wise northerner once said, “Beer… feeds me.” And it does! If you play it right, you can spend about 80% of your monthly paycheque in the very bar that you earned it.

As for rent, your benevolent employer/landlord will nbo doubt take your rent directly from your wages. This is a brilliant arrangement, as not only does it ensure all your bills and rent are paid before you have to buy new glasses, but gives you the opportunity of pre-hatch chicken counting.

A lack of basic knowledge of the income tax system of the UK should mean that you grossly overestimate the amount of disposable income you’ll have post-deductions, leaving you with just enough cash to buy a two-week supply of Homepride pasta bake sauces, baccy and Rizla.

I suggest befriending a couple of regulars and inviting them to enjoy the weekly pub quiz, where you can exchange your encylopaedic – if trivial – knowledge for lovely boozes. All sorted!

With any luck, the two weeks at the end of each month where you have no money will see you drink like a lord, and as an added bonus you can probably bully the chef too.

Huzzah!”

Continue reading "Auntie Barman Evans" »

Marina from the Diamond asks,

“Dear Auntie Evans,

I was recently informed that the office I work in is closing down. Yesterday, the bastards told me I have five weeks left. What to do?”

Evans Responds:

“Well Marina, if you are sensible like me you will have not spent the last few weeks since informed of your impending redundancy searching for alternative employment.

This would obviously be a waste of time, and will continue to be so for the next month until you find yourself jobless.

What I would recommend is getting wasted tomorrow night and not going back in. You don’t really need that five weeks’ wages, do you – after all, it’s been a while since you had to buy any new specs!

Now, if all has been going according to plan you will have been sharing a house with a couple of useless unemployed brothers who have both recently got a job. Your new status as the workshy member of the household will have you transferred to the smallest bedroom and on permanent cleaning and cooking duty in no time at all.

This will obviously get on your wick, but watch out – any small altercation could lead to them becoming cunts of the highest magnitude. Considering they’ve probably got you sleeping in a bed infested with all sorts of creepy-crawlies by now, I’d imagine you’ll want to snap and move out on a whim.

Where to live next, then? Your mum will put you up for a day or two, but I’d imagine the most awesome plan would be to move into a two-bed flat that already contains three other people: a ket-fiend, a perpetually unemployed man with an inability to be angered, and a young black teenager who is obsessed with slash. You’ll be renting the sofa, but that’s ok, it won’t be the first time.

Now, living in this precarious predicament would suggest that you need to be on your best behaviour. However, the much more fun alternative is to tick a load of drugs from a dealer that doesn’t know about it, and have to move out within an hour before he kneecaps you.

Follow the above tips and you’ll be back to your sofa-surfing ways in no time at all! Hope you enjoy.”

Continue reading "Auntie Employment Counsellor Evans" »

Smick from the Wild Wild West writes,

“Dear Auntie Evans,

I’ve just seen two crackheads, talking jibberish, shaking babies and having a little dance when they thought I wasn’t looking. Any advice?”

Evans responds:

“Well Catboy, in this sort of situation, you wanna hope the crackfiends haven’t seen you. But as they’re a little blurry when you’ve lost your glasses, let’s assume they noticed, and deal with it before you develop an addiction.

Shape a large carrot from crack, tie it to a stick, and use it to lure them away from the shaken baby. If you can’t get hold of enough crack – maybe your dealer is hanging out in Northamptonshire, for example – shape a rock of crack from a real carrot instead. You’ll probably find one in the bins behind M&S.

As for the talking jibberish, well… as you know, I often believe other people are speaking Spanish. Maybe you just aren’t listening, or shouldn’t have done so many pills last night.

Hey ho.”

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Dealing With Others" »

Trevor O’Shanty from Quimsford asks:

“Dear Auntie Evans,

With it being a new year, I’m wondering what clothing’ll be in fashion this season. Can you give me any sartorial tips for 2010?”

Auntie Evans responds:

“Dear Trev,

As you know, i’m all about les arts-de-fabrique. I think you’ll find the best clothes this year will indeed be found – in a bin bag. If you’re squatting, you’ll easily find socks and the suchlike, previously belonging to your best friend’s big sister who has size three feet. Hey, at least they’ll keep your toes warm, and even if they’re bright pink, you won’t be able to make out the fairy or cartoon cow motifs on account of having mislaid your specs.

If you wish to inform people about the phenomenal gulf between your actual intellect and track record for daftness, you could try a T-shirt with Shakespeare on it. Some people will recommend shoplifting the clothes you desire, but in my experience this just gets you hit around the head by a 73-year-old Pakistani man.

Other than the above, coaching jackets for warmth. If you’re lucky there may be some Cresta merchandise around, that really is this year’s Prada.

You’ll be swish as a lord.”

Continue reading "Gok Auntie Evans Wan" »

Dorina Kaligerous from Wantage, Oxon. writes:

“Dear Auntie Evans…

I’ve been trying to get up the courage to buy some reeferdoobs. However, I’m nervous. What is a trip to the dealers like?”

Auntie Evans responds:

“Well Ms Kaligerous, first of all, I find it’s important to check that you are not actually following the trail of destruction left by the police raid squad, who arrived seconds before you, and will arrest you before you realise how hard you’ve been hit with a nightstick.

Once you’ve overcome that hurdle, you’ll need to make sure your intended dealer is not currently undergoing a shakedown from the fuzz, a minor surgery, family dinner or GCSE exam. He won’t be pleased if he ends up with a C in English Literature because he got chucked out of the exam, so don’t walk into that exam pretending your name is Kirsty. Especially if you are in the year above.

Finally, once you have your drugs, any delay may result in the five-oh turning up, so just do them all straight away. Twenty pills is fine, as is an eight of coke in a single line. If you’ve bought green, you’ll probably want to do it in buckets or old-stylees so you don’t have to buy any Rizla. Seeing the prices in KLG is hard when you are gurning and the cops have broken your glasses.”

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Personal Shopper" »

Steve from St Neots writes, “Dear Auntie Evans…

Recently my Jewish boyfriend has refused to buy me £4 loaves of bread from Marks & Spencer, saying they are exactly the same as Tesco Value. I beg to differ. Obviously I don’t want to spend my own money on these pricey yeasty delights – what can I do?”

Auntie Evans responds:

If you’re having trouble buying food, the best thing to do is eat like a homeless. I’ve been a homeless, and they do eat quite well. It’s funny you should mention M&S. This used to be a prime source of food, as they chuck away a lot of stuff at the end of the day and you can reach into the bins and get it while it’s still fresh – being careful of course that you don’t lose your glasses in the process.

Unfortunately, like some sort of urban fox, I got a bit too bold and the lure of those gourmet prawn sandwiches was too much, and I went through their bins during the day. Now they die all the food, but if you don’t mind a purple gob, this is still a great way to get quality food at the low low price of your dignity. Otherwise you’ll have to go through Somerfield’s bins, and that’s a bit dirty isn’t it.

Your friends may take the piss, of course, but you are probably eating better than they are. Call it freeganism, and you can maintain a moral highground whilst chowing down on your not-just-any-food.

Other ways to eat when hungry are coincidentally knocking at a mate’s door around dinner time, and occasionally grab your stomach and grimace a little bit. When they ask what’s up, reply that you must be getting hunger pains because you haven’t eaten in days. It might be an idea to make a note of who has fed you each day though – if you get too fucked and forget, the person that made you breakfast that day may think you are insulting their hospitality – or worse still joking, and that won’t get you food, or indeed find your glasses.

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Let’s Call It Freeganism" »

Tommy from the Eastside writes,“Dear Auntie Evans…

I’ve been playing “the game” for some time now, and I used to play it with friends, but just recently everyone has stopped playing and I’ve had to carry on by myself. Of course, I never win with just me playing – but then I never won anyhow.”

Auntie Evans responds:

“Ah yes, the game, or more accurately ‘the game’. I used to play this too. The Game is, as we know, a hoax game, first introduced to St Neots by some hairy guy from Oxford in 2004 or thereabouts, in the Hare and Hounds. I used to love Monday Night Pub Night, getting wasted at sixteen years old, playing darts and looking for my glasses.

Then the game came along and I got hooked. Now, you might still be playing because, according to the rules, you cannot win – only lose. To be fair, you would have been warned when asking about the rules that you do not want to know, as once you start playing you cannot stop.

However, recently there has been a winning method developed. You’ll have to find someone else who is still playing. When they announce that they have lost, merely state that you have, indeed, won.

Of course, there is a chance that you weren’t talking about this game, in which case I want you to know that there’s nothing wrong with playing with by yourself, even in a friend’s shed. In fact, your friends may be upset if you try to play with them, so just take a few little ones and watch that you don’t break your ankle.”

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Always Playing The Game" »

Colon from St Neots writes,
“Dear Auntie Evans…

Recently I got wanged at a mates house and passed out. Whilst unconscious, the bastards went at my hair with clippers and I now only have one eyebrow. What to do?”

Auntie Evans responds:

“Yeah, this is a favourite tactic of so-called ‘mates’. First of all, you want to blame whoever is sleeping in the room you woke up in. Check for radiator burns if you hid behind the sofa, as they may have tried to flush you out by cranking up the heating.

Then, assess your plan for the day. Typically, this sort of thing will happen if you have something important to do, like visiting your grandparents, or a job interview, or a date. Hopefully you have a hat you can wear, but if not you’ll have to go for the ‘thug’ look – shave your head all over. And since you will have lost your glasses, you may have to get a friend to finish the job, lest you miss bits and end up looking like a muppet with alopecia.

Eyebrows are a tricky one. Without them, sweat will drip into your eyes next time you get gurned up, and it’ll sting like a bitch. But with only one eyebrow, people will think you’re trying to emulate some evil Bond villain or something. You have to weigh this up against shaving the other one off too, and looking permanently surprised for a couple of weeks.

Remember, they’ll probably grow back, and you can always draw some in using a permanent marker. Unless you’re ginger, of course – not many places sell ginger pens.”

Send us your problems for Auntie Evans to resolve:

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Permanent Surprise" »

Today, Dr Flevens answers Disappointment Dave’s query on homelessness.

Dave, from Eynesbury, writes:

“Dear Auntie Evans…

A couple of weeks ago I broke my ankle whilst playing on the spinning disc. Since then, I have been fired from my job and my parents have kicked me out.

How can I start getting back on my feet?”

Auntie Evans responds:

“Don’t worry, this has happened to me before. First thing you need to do is get used to using your crutches for amusement, and fending off attacks from long-haired skinny metallers. Then you can concentrate on finding somewhere to live, a job, and your glasses, which you have probably lost.

If you like talking about how wasted you got at the weekend, don’t take a job in a secure unit full of recovering smackheads who have all got cannabis psychosis. The £7.50 an hour isn’t worth being homeless again for. McDonalds or HAP are ideal places to start; within a month you can be drive-thru team leader, and you get a massive bag of burgers to take round the shed at the end of the night.

Speaking of sheds, they can make surprisingly comfortable temporary accommodation. You’ll need electricity, mind, and some old sofa cushions. Don’t overstay your welcome though, and make sure your mates don’t find out you’ve been choking the chicken in there!!

Other places to stay – maybe you can rotate nightly so as to keep it fresh and interesting – are one of your best friend’s bedroom floors (best if he still lives with his parents), the sofa of a mad person (preferably one who has indeed been sectioned – they get a lot of benefits), or a tent. Best not to stay in your tent if you have work though: they don’t have electricity so your alarm clock will not work.

Alternatively, you could move into a flat with someone, but be prepared to squat in it if they move out.

Hope this helps, and make sure you don’t break your glasses.”

Do you have a query for Auntie Evans? Email auntie.evans@crevs.co.uk now!

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Homeless Assistant" »

In the first of a new series, Auntie Evans will answer all your blunder-related problems.

Have you been in a drug-related stupor for the last six days, and are unsure where your glasses are?

Do you need advice on masturbation techniques whilst living in a shed?

Email Auntie Evans on auntie.evans@crevs.co.uk and he will respond to your problems with his usual degree of common sense and compassion. Watch the front page for updates!!

MC from St Neots writes,
“Dear Auntie Evans…

It’s my birthday soon and my friends have asked me to go to a rave and take acid. What do you think I should do?”

Auntie Evans Responds:

“The best possible thing to do here is ensure the rave is at some dirty squat in Hackney – preferably the worst bit of Hackney. You’ll probably go with your mates and expect to have a good time.

I would tend to triple-drop the recommended dose, or quadruple it if you’ve never done acid before. LSD is a powerful substance, unless your name is Stan, so you wanna make sure you get well and truly fucked.

The only way this could go sour is if you start to believe you can alter reality. The night might end with you breaking a ladies nose, or stripping off and taking on the ten hardest men in the room. The acid means you will keep getting up for more, so expect potentially broken bones.

After you have horrified one of your best mates by making him hug you – whilst naked – you’ll end up in the hands of London Ambulance Services finest. Charing Cross hospital is your ideal destination, as there are often a lot of clothes around to steal when you wake up naked and discharge yourself (ignoring the obvious head traumas you’ve experienced).

With any luck, you’ll wander aimlessly to King’s Cross and bump into your friends. So really, as you can see, acid is a great idea which probaby won’t result in you losing your glasses or job.”

Keep your problems for the Agony Coach coming!! Auntie Flevanator or one of the team will respond to you as soon as we can.

Continue reading "Auntie Evans: Agony Coach" »