Forget your polite, proper advice columnists, Uncle Jackie Signs is the hardcore truth-teller who’s lived more life in his 72 years than most people dream of! Before dispensing legally binding, 100% guaranteed advice, Jackie dispensed something else—counterfeit tobacco.
As a tachymeter-free, long-distance lorry driver, Jackie didn’t just drive highways; he navigates the complex highways of human emotion, counselling the great and the good from his CB Radio Counselling Centre. His multiple short prison stints weren’t just time served, they were indispensable life lessons.
But it was as the North East’s first nationally ranked Bingo Champion Jackie learned that life, like bingo, is all about reading the signs.
Dear Uncle Jackie,
My car broke for the fifth and final time earlier this week. I’ve been to a local second-hand garage and seen a car that I like but I don’t know anything about cars. How can I make sure the car I buy isn’t going to turn out to be another banger?
Jeff, Southwick
Thanks for writing in Jeff. I surrendered my licence several years ago due to me cataracts so I barely get out for a drive more than three times a week now. However, me years on the waggons have given iz a degree in tyre kicking. Car salesmen can spot a novice from a mile away. The furtive looks, the hands pushed deep in pockets, the shuffling stance on the forecourt. What they fear is unabashed confidence. I remember when I got me first XR3i… I walked straight into the Reg Vardy dealership and pulled a thick roll of twenties out, dropping the lowey on the managers desk. Although cash is, and will always be king, this wasn’t the coup de grâce. The “accidental” inclusion of an extra girth condom in the bundle of notes sealed the deal. Reg clocked it and he immediately knew who and what he was dealing with. He wouldn’t dare sell me a shed. Lashing on half a bottle of Joop wouldn’t hurt either.
Uncle Jackie, do you have any advice for finding a sustainable level of rest, and how I can stop feeling as empty as I did last weekend?
Yours, Jay from Huddersfield via Sun-Lun
Hi Jay, as you didn’t include photocopies of each and every social club you’re a member of, I can only assume you’re a trendy pub man. I know the sort; drinking thirds of beer costing a tenner served by an art student / punk musician wearing an egg cosy sized beanie hat and wire rimmed glasses? Are you always going for the flavourless vegan option and pairing with a Biodynamic Natty Wine? Jay, this is the root of your problem! What you need to be doing is spending your weekend in a proper 1960s flat roofed clubs, the sort with eye scorching, CIA black-site style lighting. Marry this with a drinkers-dozen* pints of John Smiths, twenty tabs and a tray of kebab meat once time is called. You’ll wake up fresh as daisy come Monday morning and have change from a twenty-pound note.
*A drinkers dozen; thirty
Dear Uncle Jackie,
I’m in my mid-20s and constantly see influencers on social media living these ‘perfect’ lives. I know it’s mostly just for show, but I can’t help but feel inadequate. How do I stop comparing myself to everyone online?
Keith, Roker
Hiya Keith, Hazza who used to drink in the Vas Deferens Memorial Welfare Club actually came up with the antidote to perfection: gratitude. Hazza was never more grateful than when his bets came in, chucking money around like it was nowt. The internet isn’t for looking at photos of shirtless rigsbies and their filler enhanced lasses in the Balineese sunset. It’s for gambling. Put the magazine down and treat yourself to a four way accumulator. If it comes in you can get your teeth done in Turkey.
Uncle Jackie,
I’m hoping you can help. I’ve been single now since 2020 following a messy breakup. The thought of meeting up with someone I’ve found on the internet is terrifying. But the thought of asking someone out in person is even scarier. Help!?
Richard, Hetton-le-Hole
Hello Richard, as I mentioned to Keith two minutes ago, the internet is for gambling, it’s not for meeting people?! I’m guessing you’re quite young and, therefore, terrified of speaking to strangers. But listen, lads and lasses value humour. Perhaps because laughing boosts the immune system, elevates heart rate and blood circulation and is a guaranteed knicker loosener. What I recommended is memorising the script from Jim Davidson’s bawdy pantomime Sinderella. Absolutely hilarious. You’ll get a VHS copy from Seaham car boot sale, nee bother.
Dear Jackie,
My wife and I have been happily married for 45 years, she has her life and I have mine. I don’t usually like to talk about bedroom things but we had quite a healthy turnover about 6 times a year, usually to celebrate a SAFC win, and it was always enjoyable. Lately, she’s been insisting we are intimate a lot more regularly and is wanting to try new things, many of them I have never even heard of. What should I do?
Jake, Pallion
Jake. Two words. Vye Aggra.
Chin Up, if you’d like Uncle Jackie to fix it for you, send us an email at areet@ganon.co.uk with “Dear Uncle Jackie” as the subject line, and remember to include your name and general location.
