Today’s human being believes himself to be a werewolf. This is an unusual conclusion to reach, but not entirely right or wrong. As Dr. Wapojif, also our esteemed editor, is ready to tear into this one.

Why? Dr. Wapojif also has experiences of this! He was a werewolf between the years of 1874 and 1972, even though he wasn’t alive during that time period, but he’s unwilling to let such empirical evidence dampen his enthusiasm for this malady.

When a Man is a Werewolf and Needs a Cure

Disclaimer: Please ignore our terrible medical advice, we are not medical experts in any way, shape, or form and should be ignored.

OWOOOOOOOoooooOOO Dr. Wapojif,

OwooooOOoooo. I am Ollie and I work as a plumber. However, in my spare time (whenever the full Moon is out), I transform into… a WEREWOLF. How do I know? Well, after several beers and other mixers like Jack Daniels, I start noticing I’m really hairy. Hairy back, hairy arms, hairy armpits, and also my teeth (especially my incisors) are quite sharp and allow me to tear through a post-pub kebab. All that kebab meat in my gut, and (OwOOOoOOOooooo) the hairiness and I feel an overwhelming urge a lot of the time to piddle in the street like a dog/wolf (again, this is all after my time spent in the pub).

My mates laughed when I told them, but I KNOW IT IS TRUE.

I am a werewolf and I need a cure. Help me, Dr. Wapoijf! You’re my only hope!!

Cheers,

OWooooOOOooollie

First off, it’s Dr. Moron. CALL ME BY MY NAME, SAD ACT! Second off, this is something I suffered through between the years 1874 and 1972 (even though I was born in 1984, don’t ask for specifics, it just happened). What you need here is…

Dr. Moron’s Werewolf Treatment Centre

I knew there’d be a case like this one day, that’s why I invested £10 million into a Werewolf Treatment Centre next to the Professional Moron headquarters in Manchester. Thus far, since 2020, we’ve had a grand total of zero patients.

But I’ve kept that treatment centre FULLY staffed for the last six years, safe in the knowledge there’d be ROI for that absurd, ridiculous, pointless investment. NOW THAT DAY IS HERE.

There isn’t a specific cure, to be clear, but we do offer all manner of batshit insane experimental concepts to give a go. Including, but not limited to, intensive quarantine therapy and slathering of the body with:

• Suntan lotion
• Shaving cream
• Canine social integration

The idea here is to slather you, Ollie, in various lotions and then integrate you into a kennel system. There you’ll become one of the dogs seeking a new home.

Sooner rather than later, you’ll be acquired by a human and taken to their home. There you shall enjoy walkies, dog food, fetch, and occasional fleas until the day you die.

That is the cure. This also costs £100,000, so please forward us the money immediately. Kind regards.