The nights are getting longer, the days are getting warmer and the Session Pixies are awakening from their hibernatorial slumber to come and fuck you up at four o’clock in the morning.

 

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Dear Session Pixies,

My friends keep putting photos of their dinner on FB. I can’t help but feel inadequate in culinary matters. What should I do?

Páidrigín Ó Murtaghanrahahán, Ballymacnally

 

Dear Páidrigín,

Put up a photo of every shite you take and describe the ingredients in all of their glorious, semi-digested, vivid detail.

You’ll be proud as punch and hopefully it’ll put your mates off their lightly braised truffles on beds of organic turniplets with light sprinklings of honey-mustard.glazed ham shavings and destalked semi-sun blushed coriander shoots with a side of wild huckleberry jam.

Wankers.

 

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Dear Session Pixies,

I’m just a lowly hotel cleaner stuck on a poxy zero hour contract. Back in February I was cleaning the jacks down in the INEC centre in Killarney. I’d a raging hangover so was rooting around the back rooms for a bucket of ice to stick me head in. I wandered down this long and shadowy corridor to where I thought the bar was, only to be met with one of the most terrifying experiences of my life.

I reached a large metal door, behind which I could vaguely make out the faintest hints of cackling and screeching, like dinosaurs having an orgy with dying pensioners. I pushed the door slightly ajar and peered inside… It was like being transported into a scene from Jim Henson’s Dark Crystal, or maybe Roald Dahl’s The Witches.

There was all these leathery Skeksi like looking creatures banqueting around an empty hall. Ya know the Skeksis? That withering tribe of evil overlords that keep themselves alive by draining the vitality of youth?

What the fuck was going on? I must have been going out of my fucking mind.

 

Sue, Kerry

Dear Sue,

That was just the Labour Party’s national conference. I wouldn’t worry about it.

 

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Dear Session Pixies,

I’m an 18-year-old boy and I recently bought a pipe and some tobacco as a way to slow myself down and relax more. I get stressed about money, education, work, socialising, and do so much walking (typo? – S.P.) that I hardly ever have a break. I’ve chosen a pipe as I’ve heard that they’re safer and not as addictive as cigarettes. Again, it’s really just to help me relax. Nobody else in my family smokes, though, so I don’t know how they’ll take it. What do you think?

Gunther, Ballybrack.

Gunther,

It’s time you came clean with yourself and admitted the truth. Are you smoking a pipe because it slows you down and helps you relax, or are you doing it because you think it’s a cool and retro thing to do, like those stupid beards and moustaches from the late eighteen hundreds that every young man in every fucking city in the western fucking world seems to be sporting these days, thinking it lends them an air of distinguished sophistication or some such self-deluded fucking horseshit. It’s a pipe, Gunther. If you’re so into being old fashioned, why not go the whole hog and get a fucking penny farthing and die at an early age, you fucking donk. Hopefully your family will slap your fucking head in.

 

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Dear Session Pixies,

I keep seeing posters everywhere about how children deserve mothers and fathers, and I don’t have either. My granny raised me for my whole life, and now that I’m starting secondary school, I’m scared that the other children will laugh at me me for having no parents. Is there something wrong with me?

Sally, Ringsend.

 

 

Dear Sally,

There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. There is an awful lot wrong with the shitheaps who made those posters on the other hand. Dour faced old fucktards without an ounce of love in their hearts. Bitter old shitwits who put the ‘grim’ back in ‘pilgrimage’. You go into that school, Sally, and you hold your head up high. And if they make you do religion class, you fucking tell them exactly what we just fucking told you.