Dear Bashar,
Recently our neighbours planted some fast-growing leylandii on their property. Now the hedge has cast a shadow over part of our garden. Are we within our rights to ask them to cut the hedge back, or better still, do it ourselves?
Colin Jennings
Cheam
Bashar replies:
Hi Colin,
This is an awkward situation. You’d be amazed how many letters I receive on the subject of hedges and leylandii in particular! Here’s my solution, Rather than cutting down the hedge, simply send some of your friends round to see this asshole. You’d be surprised how many people come to their senses when someone’s hacking at their fucking necks with a sabre!
Dear Bashar,
I was recently involved in a minor shunt in my Vauxhall Corsa in which the person in front of me received whiplash injuries. Although they didn’t seem badly injured at the time, they are now suing me for damages and have suggested we resolve the matter out of court. What would you advise?
Peter Campbell
Oxford
Bashar replies:
Dear Peter,
Hmm, this is tricky. In this age of a so-called compensation culture and ambulance-chasing lawyers, you have to be careful how you proceed. So here’s my advice. Accept the offer of an out of court meeting. Arrange to meet this guy (I say guy – maybe it’s a girl – I don’t wanna sound sexist!) at a disused quarry. When the guy turns up, you’re waiting with a few friends. Using cheese wire, tie his fucking –
(Due to a lack of space Bashar’s advice column will be back next week).
You know people are always asking me what Bashar’s like to live with. The way the papers go on you’d fink he was some sort of monster! But there ain’t nuffink further from the truth. Most nights we settle down with a takeaway curry, bottle of Chablis and a DVD like every other Middle Eastern despot couple. At the moment Bashar’s really into Mad Men. If you don’t believe me just have a look at his bodyguards! - A.B.
Exclusive Very Special Guest Commentator - Giles Coren!
This week, The Times’ hilarious columnist talks about poor people*
The pore is vermins. Why cant they get a propper job riting excelent colums for the times instead of sitting round in they’re cheap shellsoots eating pot noodle and scratching their dirty arse? If theyd gon to a nice pubic school like me theyd be clevver and noe how to spel and wouldn’t keep moaning about having no food for their stoopid kids who lets face it shouldn’t have been born anyway cos theyll only gro up stupid and obese. If they ate at the ivy once in a while insted of craming cheese-crust pizza from bejams into there gullets they’d be more brite and get a propper job in the media like me and my sister had to.
And my dad.
(Apologies: due to a sub-editor’s strike this column has been published exactly as submitted).
