Theresa Sacktrap couldn't believe it when she went to change her bag as usual last Thursday morning. At first she thought it was just some routine discolouration, then she took a closer look. It was unmistakable, the shape of the tantric sex loving "Message In a Bottle" star strumming his guitar and smiling affectionately. Has she seen anything out of the ordinary since then? Sadly not.

"I keep looking for him again every day at the same time but so far no luck. I did once think I caught a glimpse of Ali Campbell of UB40 but it turned out just to be a cloudy patch caused by a urine infection."

Janayne Corlicap thought she was having a perfectly normal period. It wasn't her usual brand, but the type of tampon was the same one she always used. She was slap in the middle of inserting it when she had a premonition of her neighbour having an accident involving yeast, tin foil and a wayward neice. The next day her neighbour couldn't believe it when she told her, she just looked at her and said "Christ almighty that very thing almost happened to me today", except it was bicarbonate of soda, cling film, and an elderly aunt that the incident had in reality involved. Cut to a few months later, and Janayne gets diagnosed with MS. She asked the doctor if there could be any connection between the two uncanny events coming within such a short space of time. The doctor was sceptical, but you'll have a hard time convincing Janayne that the MS is anything other than the direct result of using the psychic tampon. To this day she keeps it framed in her dining room as a reminder of the interconnectedness of all things sanitary and spiritual.

For real! At first I thought it was a bit weird but she's so happy now I just can't bring myself to disapprove. I'll admit it was embarrassing when she brought it to my wedding and licked it all over during the Grease hit-mix but we've come a long way since she fucked the parking meter outside my school at the first communion rehearsal. I can't really blame her anyway, I mean my dad was her first love and he was part Tupperware.

Traceen Nityap certainly knows how to make an unforgettable entrance - her unusual introduction to the world came via her mother's anus! An unorthodox approach to a tricky delivery resulted in Mrs Nityap having to push her first-born out in much the same way as she might have ejected the waste following a hearty roast dinner, or perhaps a tasty pub lunch of baked bean and kebab pie. These days Traceen is anything but shy about her fascinating arse birth, in fact she spends most of her days running a website she set up to support others who've experienced excrement and filth related medical oddities, including a man who cries urine, a woman who can only eat vomit and a pair of twins who shit out of one another's arses.

Yeah, it turned out he was crazy but how the fuck was I supposed to know? I never even got to show him off at my sister's wedding - and in a way I think that might be the worst part of all this.

Not many people know it, but Cameron Diaz is my best friend, and she saved my life one time too - I know!  We've known each other since high school - although I'm from Bristol my parents thought it best to send me to a school in America, I can't remember the name of it but it's whatever one Cameron Diaz went to.

The first time I ever really met Cameron, or Cammie as I call her, was during a gym class in which the teacher was forcing me to run around the hall on all fours in my pants and vest pretending to be a 'stupid little doggie' - my punishment for being a bit too tall (I really was!).  To distract the attention of my jubilant classmates and spare me some humiliation, Cameron flashed her tits while hanging upside down from a piece of apparatus.  After the class I followed her home to thank her and from that day on we were inseparable.

One of the proudest moments of my life will always be when Cameron asked me to be her bridesmaid.  People ask me if the fact that she never actually said this "in so many words" matters but of course it doesn't because I know her better than anyone and I know that this is what she meant when she said "look, please leave me alone now, you're really beginning to scare me"; we invented a secret code when we were 15 so that we could talk about boys and stuff on the telephone without our parents knowing…

So there was this one time we snuck out late at night and went down to the local lake with a can of Panda shandy I had stolen from Superdrug.  We got really fucked-up on that stuff (and a can of air-freshener) and then went skinny-dipping in the lake while talking about how far we would go with a boy.  My foot slipped on a rock and I fell under the water, soon finding myself unable to breathe.  I could feel myself beginning to fade when Cameron swam under like a beautiful mermaid and lifted me up.  She dragged me out of the water and onto the grass where she gave me the kiss of life before becoming so overwhelmed that I was OK that she proceeded to make frantic love to me until the sun rose.  It was great, she let me touch her clit and everything.

DEAR FAY…

Q. My husband says he'll leave me if I don't eat pigshit from his belly-button.  The problem is, I don't really want to because I don't think it will taste too good and I get terrible indigestion at the best of times.  What should I do?
A. You must realise that you'll never find anyone else who'll pay you the slightest bit of attention if this man leaves you.  Hold your nose and get on with it.

More and more women are now speaking out about their experiences of RSA (Rodental Sexual Assault).  Although little is yet known about this terrible problem, experts estimate that anything up to 500 million* women have been raped by a rodent or small bird.  Piti Jackson is one of them and is going to tell her story here, right now.

To look at me now I bet you'd never know I was once so desperate I begged a tramp to strike me repeatedly on the forehead with a suede ankle-boot.  That was before I met Maxine Tiring, the American homeoanalytic therapist who saved my life…

I met Maxine at a Tupperware party thrown by a friend of my mother's drug dealer.  She was attempting to remove a piece of quiche from a particularly durable container when she spotted me across the room and instantly knew.  I have to admit at first I was a little sceptical about Maxine's insistence that I was in fact a victim of RSA but had erased the event from my memory, the trauma having been so great.  Gradually though, through a process of hypnosis and calculated doses of a special herbal cocktail administered by my good friend once every day, I began to remember the incident in its entirety.

I had been out walking my pet sock on the heath when suddenly a vole the size of a golf ball leapt out from behind a discarded crisp packet and proceeded to force itself upon me. I couldn't believe it, I mean I've never even taken it up the arse or anything. Naturally my initial response to these new memories was to attempt to take my own life by drowning in the bath, since I had seen Britney Spears doing something similar in a video and it seemed rather appropriate. Luckily my attempt failed and, a week later, with the help of Maxine, I have begun to live life again. Sometimes she'll catch me playing about with my rubber ducky, and she'll look at me as if to say, 'don't you even think about it or I'll smother you in your own sick'. And I go back to my cushions and forget the whole thing ever happened.

*Actual estimate = 0

If you think you or someone you know may have been affected by RSA, you should immediately contact the RSA Helpline on 01111 111 111 so that we can laugh heartily in your faces.

DEAR FAY…

Q. My girlfriend has no anus; she also has no eyes, ears or toenails and is generally the shape, size, consistency and overall appearance of a kitchen table, but she has beautiful smooth brown skin and I love her.
A. You know I wish there were more men around like you these days.  You accept your woman for what she is and don't expect her to conform to some bullshit ideal like looking like a supermodel or having a head or pulse or anything.  I'd let you eat toast off me anytime.

My boyfriend is definitely the best ever; he even helped my mum through the menopause - I know!

I was immediately drawn to Mark by the way he instinctively hid my face from the passers-by who chanced upon us fucking in the alley outside the nightclub the night we met.  I knew then that he was special, which is probably just as well since he had to drive me to the doctor's to get the morning after pill a few hours later.

We had been going out for four months when my mum started to have her turns.  She gets hot flushes, mood swings and breast spasm, all the normal menopausal symptoms you would expect in a woman her age.  We were so lucky that Mark had already been through it all with his own mother some years before; he knew exactly what to do.  He gives her special massages designed to reduce the symptoms of menopause, including a special one for the breast and groin spasms which can strike at any time and are really painful; he has to wear rubber gloves for those.  He must really love me to do this for my mum - she thinks he's the best boyfriend I've ever had and so do I.  And not just because the rest of them had a tendency to beat and rape me and steal my money.

I just want to tell all those girls out there that there are some good men - look at what happened to me.  I mean, my Mark doesn't even mind if I spit rather than swallow once in a while, and he sometimes sits watching me, just staring with his mouth open and his fist clenched tightly around a rusty blade, for hours; I guess he can't bear to take his eyes off me.