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Sunday, 25 October 2009

image for "Dear Brucie..." This week: 'How to do sex' Don't forget the rubber bands says Brucie

"Dear Brucie..."

He is one of our national treasures and a showbiz legend. And despite being one of our busiest veterans, Bruce Forsythe gives his views on life and its dilemmas.

Hello my loves and welcome to another edition of 'Dear Brucie...'

First of all though, what a week it's been. I've been here, there and everywhere. Who says I'm doddery?

But back to business. My postbag, unlike my unmentionables, has been absolutely bulging this week. One letter, which caught my eye, was from a gentleman called Vince and...well, why don't we let Vince explain for himself.


'Dear Brucie...'

I'm 68 and I've met a lovely lady called Maureen. We get on very well and I would very much like to take it further. It's been some years since I was last 'with' a lady and although, from what I remember, it's very much like riding a bike, I'm afraid my gears have rusted over. What's your advice?

Vince my love, to tell you the truth, I had the same problem when I was courting my Winnie, bless her. I found her very attractive, as she did me, but nothing she or I did to my unmentionables could get them to move. It all got very embarassing. But we did resolve it and you can too.

It's easy Vince. First set the mood. Have a wash, comb your hair and invite her over.

Before she arrives, and forgive me if I seem a little vulgar but this does work, wrap four rubber bands around your penis and if you've got a catalogue (I tend to use Winnie's Littlewoods copy), look at the underwear pages. That ought to get a little bit of blood flowing.

When your lady friend arrives, you should already be what I like to call 'warm'. Pour her some wine then pressing yourself against her, murmur these words into her shoulder:

My darling you look so very wonderful tonight. An orchid in its first moon could not hope to match your beauty.

Your hair, my darling, it is like the moonspun poem of a thousand heartbeats.

I long to hold you in my arms, to caress you and for the beat of your heart to play silent kisses upon my skin.

As she gazes into your eyes, stroke her neck and, taking her into your manly arms, do what nature intended.

Oh, you'll have to remember to remove the rubber bands first. Don't do what I did and forget. The first time Winnie and I were 'together', I forgot I had the stupid things on. They nearly stopped my blood supply.

And of course Winnie saw all my business trussed up with elastic. She's never mentioned my age, bless her, but I think if there was a moment of doubt, it might have been then.

Good luck Vincent and do let me know how you get on.

Remember, if you have a dilemma, write to me, Dear Brucie!

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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