March 2000
SFX historical note: The mag gets its first (and last) agony uncle
Ask Tor Johnson
Fed up with Clare Rayner? Pissed off with Miriam Stoppard? Disillusioned with Nick Fisher? You ain’t tried Tor Johnson…
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Dear Tor Johnson,
I am a thirtysomething borderline paranoid sociopath obsessed with the disappearance of my sister. I have a pornography fixation and find it impossible to consummate a potential relationship with a work colleague. Some days I wake up and feel sure that the world is threatened by black oil and bees. Is this normal? Confused, Washington DC
Don’t tell me. You fantasise about working for the FBI, right? Get help, loser. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
My boyfriend has recently been encased in carbonite and is now a wall decoration for the vile galactic gangster Jabba the Hutt. As you can imagine, this has really taken the passion out of our relationship. How can I save our sex life?
I’m also troubled by my feelings for another man, even though I tell myself that he’s almost like a brother to me. Frustrated, The Fourth Moon of Yavin
Well, Frustrated, I think you should cease your mewling and ponder upon the more beneficial ramifications of having a partner encased in carbonite. He’ll be hard all night long. Hurr hurr hurr hurr. And face it, he’ll make a neat lawn ornament. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
I feel sure that everyone hates me. Am I being paranoid? Neelix, Starship Voyager
Hell, no, freak. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
I am a supervillain in ze city of Gotham. I am not really evil, just a bit misguided. My problem, Tor, iz I can’t help making unwanted puns on ze subject of ice. Can you imagine how irritating it iz when, even at ze grocers or on a date, you are compelled to zay things like, “You are the freeze knees” and “ice to see you, to see you, ice”. And to top it all, I’ve been banned from Iceland. Mr Freeze, Gotham City
Well, Freezey, bad puns are a staple of many tawdry rags, like the one I’ve been press-ganged into writing for here. It’s like bread and water to these corpulent zombies. Perhaps you should freelance for them. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
I am a young male Vulcan, and my Pon Farr is overdue. I’m worried, as a colleague says this could mean I’m pregnant. Another colleague suggested I wear women’s underwear, as it might “turn me on”. What do you think? Illogical, the Delta Quadrant
Why not try a subscription to Amok Tarts , the Vulcan jazz mag? Catch it while you can, though, as it’s only published every seven years. Jeez, you pervs make me heave. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
I’m a bit worried about a friend of mine. I am a warrior princess, and I’ve noticed that my female sidekick keeps looking at me in a funny way. I think she might fancy me. I’ve nothing against a bit of girl-on-girl action, but I think if we both came out, our popularity in the southern states of America might plummet. What should I do? Princess X, Athens near Wellington
PS Any advice about getting rid of leather chaff marks on your thighs?
Perhaps someone quite so obviously narcissistic as yourself should get down off your high warhorse and address those insecurity issues. Your arrogant assumption that this young lady “fancies” you simply screams “Love me! Love me!” But no-one ever will love you – your painfully evident character flaws ensure that you’ll die alone. Hope that helps, doll. Tor
Dear Tor Johnson,
900-year old Jedi master am I, well versed in the ways of the Force. But problems I have. Embarrassed am I in lightsaber practice with other Council members. Laugh they do at size of my weapon. Titter when I get it out they do. Worse still, for three centuries I lie, tell them veruccas I have. After practice I do not wish in showers to go. Afraid my “other” saber too tiny is. Green and ashamed, Coruscant
Tough one, little fella. Extreme sarcasm and violence are the only answers. Try “Judge me not by my size!” or “Bite your kneecaps I will.” Go for the balls, bubba. And learn English. Properly! Tor
