QUIZ
DO YA FEEL LUCKY?

Were you born with a rabbit's foot in your mouth? Or do you have your own personal black cloud, permanently hovering over your bonce? Is God pointing his finger and going 'It's you', as you stroll out of the newsagent, one Lucky Dip clutched in your paw? Or is he smacking you over the head, with a rolled-up paper, saying 'In your dreams, pal'? Well, here's your chance to find out. Do ya feel lucky? Well try this quiz to find out...

YOU'RE AT A CLUB AND YOU COP OFF WITH AN INCREDIBLY ATTRACTIVE MEMBER OF THE OPPOSITE SEX. YOU GO BACK TO THEIR PAD. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?:
1. You have fantastic, mind-blowing sex, spend all night talking about how much you have in common and discover that you're madly in love the following (and they don't even suffer from morning breath!)?
2. You go back to their place, have coffee, attempt to have sex, but end up passing out due to over-consumption of the demon booze. Wake up the next morning with a head the size of Israel, a tongue that feels like the roof of a thatched cottage and a desire to never even LOOK at a bottle of vodka again in your life. Feel embarrassed that you snored like a Boeing 747, and offer to go out for a loaf of bread to make breakfast. Head for home and vow to never have another one-night stand again?
3. You go to bed and shag someone so perfect they belong in a US sitcom and fall asleep feeling satisfied. Wake up in the morning, screaming, as you realise that you're sharing a bed with a distant relative of Godzilla, who's awake and is urgently pawing at your genitals?
YOU GO TO YOUR NEWSAGENTS AND PURCHASE A SCRATCHCARD. YOU WIN Ł10. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?:
1. You go back in, claim your prize and feel good for the rest of the day?
2. You go back in, claim your Ł10, buy another ten scratchcards and win absolutely sod all?
3. You go in, claim your prize, leave the shop and promptly get mugged by a gang of 14-year-olds, who not only steal your dosh, but de-bag you as well, leaving you lying in the street, clad only in a pair of greying smalls?
OKAY, BAD NEWS. YOUR PARTNER HAS DUMPED YOU. WHAT WAS THE REASON?:
1. They caught you in bed with another person - but since the other person was a Brad Pitt/Cameron Diaz look-a-like, with a personality bubblier than a vat of champers and a sexual technique that would make Traci Lords look like a nun, you're not TOO disappointed?
2. They caught you engaging in a drunken, er, 'tonsil investigation' with the milkman/postie/local slapper. They not only dump you, but your new 'amour' will also tell everyone that sex with a dead duck would be more exciting than a romp between the sheets with you?
3. They caught you engaging in a rude act with your pet Labrador, whilst wearing their underwear and a black rubber mask. They not only dump you, but report you to the Old Bill, leaving you with A LOT of explaining to do...?
YOU'RE TRYING ON LAST YEAR'S SUMMER GEAR. IT DOESN'T SEEM TO FIT VERY WELL. WHAT'S THE REASON?:
1. When you washed it, you forget to change the setting on the washing machine from the 'absolutely-filthy-boil-even-more-than-the-bunny-from-'Fatal-Attraction'' wash to the 'cool-refreshing-wash' setting, resulting in your clothes now resembling outfits for Barbie/Action Man?
2. Well, when you bought them last year, you SWORE that you'd lose that pesky half a stone for this year. Unfortunately the lure of a couple of kebabs after the pub every Friday just proved too much for you?
3. They DID fit you last year, but that was before you over-dosed on Mummy's turkey and stuffing at Crimbo, ate you way through a Cadbury's factory at Easter and developed a fondness for Big Macs for breakfast, lunch and dinner, the rest of the year. Weight-watchers also wouldn't let you join, although they didn't really have a choice - you couldn't fit your mountainous arse through the door to actually sign up?
YOU DECIDE TO GET YOURSELF FIT. WHAT ARE THE RESULTS AFTER A MONTH?:
1. Astonishing. You've stuck rigidly to your diet of half a pound of lettuce and a pint of skimmed milk a day, exercised so much that you make Mr. Motivator look like Les Battersby and now you've got more muscles than Arnie, Madonna and Peter Andre combined?
2. Well, you've managed to lose weight, but only because you starved yourself silly on the third week, after severe hunger pains caused you to eat your way through several Kentucky bargain buckets, a year's supply of Mars Bar and a couple of small children who got in your way in the supermarket aisles...?
3. You put your back out trying to do sit-ups, fell off the treadmill at your local gym, when you put it at 'hyper-speed' instead of the 'snails-pace-for-out-of-puff-lard-arses' speed, spraining your ankle in the process and got knocked down by a Skoda while out jogging. This confined you to your bed for the rest of the month, leaving you nothing to do but watch endless talk shows and consume your body weight in Wispas?

MOSTLY A'S - SOCIAL SUPPER
You're a big girl's blouse. You don't like the taste of alcohol much, and prefer to stick to stuff that's tastes like liquid Winegums, rather than proper booze. Here's the bad news, though, you tits - it'll still turn your liver as hard as a Gladiators' thighs and make you vomit (although it'll be a much more attractive colour). That's providing, of course, that you can actually DRINK more than two bottles of the stuff, as you're the type of person who cannot walk unaided after two tins of Top Deck and half a glass of shandy.
MOSTLY B'S - JAMMY BASTARD
You are a lucky c**t. You sail through life, never having to worry about anything. You magic money from your arse, constantly cop off with people who have features straight out of a plastic surgeon's guide-book and you could stuff your face with great big greasy chips 'til the cows come home and never get flabby. You are a bastard, and your friends are probably conspiring to murder you. Not that it'll work, of course, as you're also immune to arsenic/bullets/stab wounds etc. etc. We hate you, and we'd just like you to know that there's a voodoo doll in the office with your name on it, pal...
MOSTLY C'S - NORMAL NORMAN/NORMA
Welcome to real life, chum and doesn't it suck? Yep, the sad truth is that people who fall into Category A are either aliens, royalty or Leonard DibloodyCaprio - the rest of us, unfortunately, have to come to terms with the knowledge that we're never going to get more than a paltry Ł10 once in a blue moon from Camelot, we'll never get Kate Winslet/the bloke from the 'Diet Coke' ad to declare undying love for us, and no matter how many tins of Slimfast we consume, we'll NEVER, EVER, look good in lycra. These are the facts of life - God really does hate humans. Get used to it.
MOSTLY D'S - UNLUCKY SOD
In a previous life, you were either Adolf Hitler or Countess Bathory, and boy are you paying for it now. When you were born you were probably dropped not only on your head but on your face as well. And probably on a gravel path, as well. Starving children in Ethiopia would probably cry their eyes out if they heard your life story, and 'Big Issue' sellers probably give YOU money. You'll probably die of VD. Which you'll catch from a toilet seat.

Go back for more - from this issue's Contents!

QUIZ DO YA FEEL LUCKY?

QUIZ
DO YA FEEL LUCKY?