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Got a problem? Can't pick up a wench? Don't know how
to eat a haunch of wild venison in public? Perhaps you've
forgotten the formal way to address a reigning tyrant, or
need to know a quick way to remove beer stains from your
shoes? Got a big date on the weekend and worrying about
whether to bring flowers or a tankard of ale? Throwing a
party and need to know the best way to get it off to a
cracking good start? Moat running dry? Dungeon not as dark
as you'd like? Are you a knight whose armor needs shining?
Or a damsel in distress? If so, you need to ASK GRIFT.
Grift knows almost everything. And if he doesn't know
it, he'll make it up. If he was a woman he'd be an old wife.
If he was a man...hang on a second he is a man. Well, you
get the idea. Grift knows things you don't. To benefit from
his sage advice, please click the button below and state the
nature of your problem. (Anything containing the words
"Medieval" or "damsel" is guaranteed to catch his eye!)
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Dear Grift,
Help me! All the fine young knights are asking for the key to my
chastity belt and my father has the only key! How do I steal it from
him? -- Damsel in This Dress
Dear Damsel in This Dress,
Oh, lassie. Let me tell you this now:
Under no circumstances must ye approach your father while he's
sleeping! That would only court trouble of the worst kind. No, lass.
As hard as this sounds you must...er...relieve him of the key in
broad daylight. This can be easily done as follows. Most dads are
darn smitten with one of the three following women: Lonnie Anderson,
Kathie Lee Gifford or Mary Tyler Moore. Now, all you have to do is
find a TV program with one of them in, wait until that glazed look
appears over dad's eye (a six pack of Budweiser will speed this
process) and then swoop in for the big snatch. Shout loudly, "Dad!
Ferret up your pants!" and while he's busy slapping his thighs and
protecting his tackle, you move in with the industrial strength wire
cutters. Nuff said. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I was just wondering, I just happen to have five bunions on my left
foot, and the misses and I just can't seem to get it right. What am I
doing wrong? Please help, the misses really wants a little 'un
running around and mucking the place up. -- In A Slump In Spokane
Dear In A Slump In Spokane,
Ye mustn't try to service your wench in
such an emotional state. A professional must be called in! Dr. Scholl
should be consulted! Alas, sometimes what looks to be a fair-sized
bunion is nothing more than a wee blister filled with pus. Ask your
good wench to lance it for ya! Nothing like the sight of pus spurting
from a blister to get the juices flowing. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I weigh 330 pounds and my boyfriend only weighs 160 pounds. But he
insists that I sit on his knee. He thinks its cute and I think it
makes him feel manly. But afterwards, he has difficulty walking and
doing daily activities. It takes a couple of hours to get back to
normal. How can I get around this without hurting his feelings as I
really care for him and his ego. -- Luscious Lady
Dear Luscious Lady,
Under no circumstances must ye go on a
diet! <shudder> Perish the thought of all that wenchliness
draining away to nothing! A man needs a good handful just about
everywhere, and it sounds as if you've got it! Well, it's obvious to
me that your young man needs just one thing: support hose. Yes, I
know, he'll fight you at first. But after the first few weeks you'll
find he'll begin to enjoy wearing that tight, constricting nylon! I
did! -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I'm a bewildered Knight of 18 years on the Lord's glorious creation.
I have been courting the beautiful maiden Lady Amanda for the last
year and she has recently been enchanted by the evil demon "Luther
College". She thinks that we must break our bond as she prepares for
her journey to the land of college. I believe that chivalry is not
yet dead and have done all in my power to change her mind and destroy
this awful demon. Please, I beg of you, give unto me a weapon to
combat this awful demon with. My sword will be to your legience
forever. -- Lost Love
Dear Lost Love,
The wench in question must be told in no
uncertain terms that you're the boss and what you say goes! When said
wench throws you out on your goodly butt for acting like a first
class turnip-head, be sure to cry out loudly to attract the sympathy
of any other wenches who might happen to be in the vicinity!
Remember: just because they leave doesn't mean you have to grieve! --
Grift
Dear Grift,
How does one go about meeting a fair damsel who lives on the other
side of the world? (or at least a couple of states away?). -- Good
Edward
Dear Good Edward,
Under no circumstances must ye cross the
country in search of a wench! They're feckless beings, wenches! And
not worth the gas money! What ye must do is get the wench to come to
you! This can be managed by one small feat: the stupendous lie! Tell
them that you are a fabulously rich international arms dealer and
also a known felon, and can not cross state lines for fear of being
picked up by the Feds! The lure of money and intrigue should do it.
-- Grift
Dear Grift,
Just how do you eat a haunch of venison in public? -- Meat
Man
Dear Meat Man,
First of all, I think it's important to ensure the creature in
question is dead. Wild stag can squeal like pigs when their butts are
bitten (trust me on this one--I've tried it!). Once you've ensured
the meat is dead, I'd dive straight in. Anything less than complete
and utter piggery (grease on your chops, bloody juices running down
your fingers, threads of meat dangling between your teeth) would be
an insult to your host. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
If one were seated at the high table to the right of a ruling monarch
and, having eaten a less than fresh haunch of venison, one becomes
ill in the lap of said monarch, what is the best way to excuse
oneself gracefully. An answer that minimized the chance of beheading
would be nice. -- Winsome Loosum
Dear Winsome Loosum,
In the circles that count this is known as "doing the Bush." Of
course, if you are overcome with a sudden urge to lose your vitals
whilst dining with the high and mighty there are certain steps you
must immediately take. First of all, under no circumstances hold it
in. That would only cause grievous medical problems down the road,
plus it is your duty as a guest to let your hosts know that what they
are serving is rancid. Anything less than complete and utter
regurgitation would be impolite. Now, if a head of state or reigning
monarch happen to be in your line of outtage, this, while being
unfortunate, does not necessarily mean that you will be beheaded or
sent to the tower or anything else horrible like that. From personal
experience, I have found that a simple warning such as "Hey, mate,
wet crunchies coming your way," fulfills all your social obligations.
And yes, it is considered polite to offer to pat dry the person
later. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
My wife has these...uh...red stains on her hands. She's practically
washed her hands to the bone and they won't come off. She even used
SOAP! Please help! It's driving her mad. --MacB
Dear MacB,
Sadly, your problem is all too common these days, what with everyone
wanting to be king, wear a kilt and party with cauldron-dancing hags.
My advice may seem a little harsh at first, but in the long run it's
all for the best: rid yourself of this woman. She will only bring you
to ruin in the end. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I've been havin' a little trouble with the ladies lately. I've had my
share of rollickin', but I can't seem to get any wenches to come
around anymore. What should I do? -- Wenchless Wonder
Dear Wenchless Wonder,
'Tis indeed a knotty problem you have there, young knight! I'm with
you all the way on this one: who wants to sit around and wait for a
rollickin'? Having mulled over your problem for several days now, I
feel I have finally come up with a solution. What you need to do is
invest in some apparatus. Yes, a long thin stick with a feather on
the end (for a small fee I would be willing to pass along my own
blueprints). Simply douse the feathered end in two day old pig lard
(the world's most potent aphrodisiac) sit at a goodly distance from
your desired wench, and when she isn't looking, dab a little on her
left kneecap. (I didn't say this was going to be easy, did I?). Wait
two minutes for the pig lard to do its job, then go up and introduce
yourself. If she isn't flinging her arms around you and calling you
"Big Stud" before the night is through them I'm a Turkish harem
dancer! -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I've been having damson trouble. I just can't get enough of the
plump, purple fruit. Is
this unusual for a man my age? I'm 27. -- Keith from Kentucky
Dear Keith from Kentucky,
This damson thing is just a stage you're passing through. Soon you
will find yourself
moving from the succulent fruits back to the hard crunchy ones. In
the meantime, always
squeeze before buying and whenever possible try not to eat them
alone. Remember: the
only fruits suitable for solo consumption are cranberries. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I'm having problems with my boyfriend. He's just not interested in
the same things I am.
I want to snuggle down of an evening and watch videos. He just wants
to sit at the kitchen
table and do needlepoint. I just don't know what to do anymore. --
Anguished in Arkansas
Dear Anguished in Arkansas,
Needlepoint! He couldn't come round here and put a trim on my
doublet, could he?
A good male needlepointer is murder to find these days. Personal
needs aside, my
suggestion to you would be to combine both your interests. There are
many videos
currently available that are not only jolly good films, but also
contain invaluable advice
on sewing: Judge Thread, Silence Of The Pins, Sewgirls (for advanced
needlepointers
only) and The Stitches Of Eastwick. Any of these will provide hours
of enjoyment and
useful instruction. -- Grift
Dear Grift,
I have a big date coming up on Friday night. I've told the girl in
question I will cook her
dinner. What dish would impress her the most? -- Nervous Chef
Dear Nervous Chef,
Nothing impresses a wench more than a big steaming mess o'grits.
Simply brown some
grits, make a mess, boil for seventeen hours and then turn whatever's
left in the pan out
onto a serving platter. Remember: season only lightly. Too much spice
in the mess and
on-stays her dress! -- Grift
