Dear Advice Arnold,
Long-time reader, first-time writer. Love the work you did in the 90s with Keith & Maxin. It was the soundtrack to my youth.
I would like to trouble you for some advice regarding a career move. After 28 and a half glorious years behind the till at my local sex shop, I’m now making plans to start up my own dog grooming business. As a proud business owner yourself, what steps can I take towards success, fortune and eternal happiness?
Many thanks in advance,
Thanks for your message. I took much delight in reading it over my Special K this morning (the popular breakfast cereal, not the slang term for ketamine - those days are over).
I believe you’re mistaking me for Liam Howlett, the brains behind popular dance act The Prodigy. Don’t worry, it happens all the time. My own mother started singing 'Firestarter' at me the other day.
Now, with a dog grooming business it’s absolutely imperative you clearly state that you’ll be tending to their fur, trimming, shampooing, etc, and not that you intend to mould them into some sort of an obsequious bedroom slave. It’s an easy mistake to make, and one that has left me up a creek without a paddle in the past.
Bearing that in mind, try not to name your business anything too risqué. Speaking from experience, ‘Doggy Style’ and ‘Bring Ur Bitches’ are strictly off limits. Apart from that, I’d advise you store your receipts in a shoebox, keep your prices competitive and avoid employing anyone with a history of arson.
Hope that helps Betty! Never contact me again.
Hi guys! Wow! Wow!! I have to say, I’m feeling so hyped for the vibrant monoculture that we have to look forward to now that the mass deportation of unskilled migrant workers has become part of law!
Finally! This is our chance to return to proper British culture. No more of these thobes, asceticism and endless droning conversations about the Hajj. We can get back to good, old-fashioned, proper British values: protracted silence, fox blood face painting, Poundland, colonial guilt, Nectar cards, anti-homeless spikes, kettles, kettling, Kettering, a crying butcher, imperceptible anxiety attacks, black mould and Cromwell’s nude ghost.
Bring back feudal lords! Smash up my house with a morning star. I don’t care, as long as it’s historically British. I can’t wait! ☆☆WOW☆☆
The most exciting bit is the transformation this mass deportation will have on our purebred stock of xenophobic nationalists. Once feared as unapproachably furious, the realisation of their deepest desires will provide them the opportunity to become the pillars of joy, generosity and community building that were previously stifled by the presence of minarets, kebabs and mathematics.
We are entering a brave new world: each new food bank staffed by our new skinhead champions, each local library propped up by a surge of new volunteers and St George’s flag window hangings, profits exploding at each new charity drive as they’re carried out with militia-like mass intimidation.
God bless our new champions, with no local migrant communities to persecute, finally making good on their stated desire to improve the life of ordinary British people.