If you are Ogg's mother, please read this post.

I have recently become aware of the fact that Mrs Ogg, the mother of our dear Ogg, has become rather worried about how her son is turning out; apparently she suspects him of drugs, hanging out with the wrong crowd and all sorts of mischief. And the Ogg's mother/Steve relationship doesn't seem to be getting on as well as it should (although I don't blame her; Steve is just the physical form of that horrified/sickened feeling you get when you see a man with no skin).

However, I don't think that I'd be any sort of a friend if I allowed THAT sort of thing to continue (as you all know, my own mother suspected me of being a homosexual bondage slave for some months, until she found out that I was just frigidly terrified of intimacy and sexual relations, which meant that her plan was going swell), and therefore, I decided to see for myself.

After some months (read: seconds) of careful espionage, stalking, camera and bug placement, false beards, surreptitious midnight rendezvous, and even one occasion when I had to squeeze my body into the shape of a doormat to avoid being detected, I have compiled a full and frank report of Ogg, to see just what's been going on. I call it:

The Ogg Files (It's like the X Files but much more mysterious and disturbing, and with less of David Schwimmer's annoying head. Fucking David Schwimmer. His ONLY good role was in Band of Brothers, and that was just because a: My father worked on it and b: Everyone hated him and took the piss)

I will dissect every part of dear Ogg's life, just to see if there is anything for her to worry about, and whether she should call in social services/an electro shocking machine. So, let's see.

1: Drugs
Apparently, Ogg's parent is convinced that he is a drug guzzling monster, sniffing his collar and interrogating him as to whether he's been smoking cannabis. Well, Mrs Ogg, I have to tell you, you have everything to fear. Ogg is the worst drug junkieman since the Michelin Man (who was originally red) discovered cocaine.

Have you ever seen Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas? It's the film version of the book by the Great, Popified, Hunter S Thompson (nb: Popified is a new word I made up. It means dead) It's about these two guys who drive around Las Vegas getting shitfaced. However, there is one passage, which I need to quote, just to convey to you my point:

We had two bags of grass, seventy-five pellets of mescaline, five sheets of high-powered blotter acid, a saltshaker half-full of cocaine, and a whole multi colored collection of uppers, downers, laughers, screamers... Also, a quart of tequila, a quart of rum, a case of beer, a pint of raw ether, and two dozen amyls.

Think thats bad? Pah. Its Ogg's muthafuckin' SCHOOL BREAK. I have a peanut butter and jam sandwich, he just goes through that lot. All day long, he's a-chewin' at that LSD, a-poppin' those pills and a-knockin' back that tequila. We try, oh we TRY to make him stop. "Stop, Ogg!" I cry, trying to pull the bag of extra-hallucogenic magic mushrooms from his grasp. "Shut up, pussy!" he hisses, shoving me aside before eating the whole bag, then washing it down with one of those water-cooler bottles of Pimms.
You know at home, how your broccoli and cottage cheese lasagna always excites him? It's cos the makeup of his plate is roughly 60% lasagna, 30% mescaline, 10% acid. Yeah, he drinks that acid by the pint glass, none of that blotter stuff for him. He says it makes it more fun. He's already been expelled from Hampton, KGS, LEH, Sir William Perkins's AND Rectory, but due to the vagaries of the British Postal system, the letters have yet to reach you. He now spends his time dealing drugs on the street.

I think he might have a drug problem.

2: Basketball
Well, have you heard the urban legend that basketball is just a codeword for 'violent street gangs who get their kicks from murdering, pillaging, graffiti, car theft, joyriding and wanton jaywalking, vandalism and large scale property destruction'? It's not an urban legend. Its true.

Your dear Ogg is part of a violent backstreet army known only as the 'Wicked Rebel Boyz', who spend their time doing the activities I've just listed. I managed to infiltrate the gang during my investigations by pretending to be a black body-builder called Raphael, and it seems that Ogg has been elected king of this army of vice. Already, they have established dominance on the local graphiti and vandalism front. Mrs Ogg, if you take the time to go outside and check your front wall, you will see that it is no longer there; the Wicked Rebel Boyz stole all the bricks and replaced them with chewing gum wrappers from a raid in Staines.

The Wicked Rebel Boyz are planning a frontal armed war on a rival street gang, the Hampton Jazz Cafe, in three days, and already have stockpiled a cache of guns, ammo and offensive cudgels. I advise you to do something about this NOW. Put a lock on his room (actually, he'll kick down the door. He did it in the British Museum and he'll do it again), chain him to the floor (actually, he'll just break the chains with his teeth, like he did with his handcuffs in Stockholm), or phone the police. Actually, scratch that. DO NOT PHONE THE POLICE if you don't want a political scandal on your hands.

Dear Ogg has slightly gone astray. Perhaps you could call the Supernanny in from Channel 4's 'Supernanny' to sort him out, through positive discipline, rewards, gentle nagging and the naughty step.

3: His friends
Rapscallions, the lot of 'em. Well, two exceptions. They are dear Tommy Pheepps, a chaste non-drinker who in his spare time helps out at charity raffles and saves baby kittens from mines, and dear Mickey Youneese, a black man who spends most of his time either at prayer or painstakingly whittling models of the Cutty Sark out of soap. Those two are ok, trying to steer Ogg out of the path of temptation. But the rest, ooh, I wouldn't trust them for one SECOND near your son. Here's a breakdown of my results:

Oli G: Manwhore, drug addict, cuts down trees in Bushy Park with an axe for fun, also hunts wild dear. And, most disturbingly, is not a vegetarian. Not a nice person.
Paul: Midget, wild and crazy hair denotes a homosexual, stalker, cocaine dealer, wife beater, also likes to set fire to old people. Not a nice person.
Bibby: Christian fundamentalist who also worships the devil, also a pimp, hired goon for the mob, known in specialist circles as 'Black-souled Bibby the Boston Butcher'. Not a nice person.
Marios: Homosexual who is trying to lure your son into the ways of the queer. Also, is an apple scrumper, and five time rapist of old women/young boys/babies/sheep. Not a nice person.

I think we can all agree that he is hanging out with the wrong crowd.

5: His musical tastes
He listens to Eminem and Placebo. Sounds of the Devil. The Devilllllll. He's already into animal sacrifice in his room, and his gang is looking for somebody willing to participate in a human bloodletting. All in all, you should get him back onto classical music QUICK. But not Bach. God help you if he starts listening to Bach again.

6: Girls
Girls! Ha ha. You were right to be worried when he started hanging around with GIRLS. Girls are behind every bad thing to ever happen on the world EVER.

Adam and Eve being thrown out of the Garden of Eden, therefore condemning humanity for all time? Girls.
Indiana Jones being captured by the Nazis, therefore nearly causing the destruction of freedom as we know it, in blockbuster spectacular Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade? Girls.
Luke nearly being taken over by the dark side and becoming an evil sith because of his nasty, nasty father, Darth Vader? Girls.
The Pope dying? Girls.

So this intrusion of females into dear Ogg's life is nothing short of a catastrophe. Already they have begun to work their wicked ways on him; he's emptied your bank account to buy them perfume, fine silk stockings and lipstick containing real rubies, and has skipped school (not that that matters now) to hang around with them on street corners.

And they aren't simple schoolgirls, as was once assumed. No, they are beer-swigging, coke snorting prostitutes, every one of them (with a single exception), and it was they who first got him into the pimping business. Especially Abi. I don't trust her. So now, all the time he's not spending with the Wicked Rebel Boyz, he's driving around in a pink convertible, wearing a purple suit, topped off with a purple hat with a jay's feather and a solid gold walking stick, drive by shooting other pimps and beating up whores with his posse.

I said there was one exception who wasn't a whore. That exception is the one known as Steve. She isn't his whore. She's his WIFE. They got married in a shotgun (literally) ceremony just outside Staines, and ever since has been doing strange crazy sexual shenanigans all day and all night. Every part of your house has seen them spraying their bodily fluids around; Ogg's bed, your bed, the dining room table, the kitchen surface, the oven, each and every one of the dinner plates and a large proportion of the forks, and they even used several uncooked broccoli sticks as sexual toys. Hint: that wasn't fish in that broccoli and garlic pasta. They both also like latex.

And you were correct. Steve hates you, and is plotting the exact moment when she kidnaps you and throws you into a huge pit before seducing your husband and taking her place at the top of the Ogg family tree. I would be very worried, and possibly call in some protection. I would have suggested John Creasy from Man on Fire, but he dies at the end. Haha, I ruined the end of the film. Oh well, it wasn't that good, really.

Overall
Basically, Mrs Ogg, your son HAS gone totally off the rails. He is an evil rapscallion and you are fully justified in worrying about him. In my humble opinion, the only thing you really can do is to send him away, possibly to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where he can sit and think about what hes done, while having many exciting and magical adventures with Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the gang.

(Yes, I know David Schwimmer wasn't in the X Files, you dipshits, it just struck me as amusing.)

Where did Jewish cows go in Nazi Germany? Extermoonation camps.