Ask Noel - he knows fucking everything.

A long time ago, in a Galaxy, far, far away, there lived a man. He was small, green and backwards, he spoke. He fought evil, he protected everything that was right and good and all in great puppetry and bad CGI. Many, many thousands of years have passed since that day and that man has learned to cheat death - he's still around, along with a few friends. That man, that myth, that legend is our agony uncle. We call him Noel and whether or not that was always his name remains to be seen. Since he arrived at Snipe he's been known to party with Robert Mugabe, to pick up girls in seedy Berkshire night clubs and even, once, organise a fight between Barney the Dinosaur and Ethan from Ctrl Alt Del. He's got your questions right here. Noel.

Last week he ran off to Brazil, to escape being some crazy skank's baby daddy and we travelled all the way to South America to find him - and find him we did, running his own agony uncle business out of the Favela they used in Modern Warfare 2.


Dear Noel,

I have no food to feed my children and my wife is whoring herself out to a dastardly man named Christian who claims to work for 'Snipe Magazine.' He pays us only in shin kicks and shame. What should I do?

    Dear Friend,

    Quieten down, it's my go on her next. I mean. Um.

    Have you considered drug dealing, or selling one of your kids to Cambodian pirates? I hear it's a lucrative deal and then you'd have fewer
    mouths to feed. Plus, your wife is ugly! So it's win win!

    Love, Noel


Dear Noel,

I am a street football prodigy, who has recently been scouted by Arsene Wenger, of Arsenal. Should I remain here, a twelve year old on the streets of Rio, or go to London and make myself a star? Mr. Wenger has offered me a helping hand.

    Dear friend,

    Poverty, misery, terrorism, I feel your pain - London is a shit heap. Plus I hear that Wenger touches kids. Stay here and I will employ you,
    five bottles of milkshake an hour to find me prettier whores than this man's wife. I hear that my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard.
    So it's win win!

    Love, Noel


Dear Noel,

You son of a bitch, I'm going to fucking kill you. I mean it, I'm going to cut you open and eat your fucking entrails. Where did you hide all of the drugs? You fucking cunt, your entrails are going to become your fucking extrails, give me the drugs back or I'm going to eat your fucking testicles and then stab your dad in his fucking queer arse.

    Dear Mum,

    I'm sorry to hear that you're having problems with dad. The drugs are mine, you filthy whore! It's win win!

    Your loving son, Noel.