Yo! What's good, fans o' the Flip?

This week we've had our emotions put through the ringer, and I thought what with all the whack things that have happened to us over the last few weeks, I might be able to put our experience to good use, helping you with whack things that are happening to you. So prepare yourselves for the sickest thing in Agony Aunts since Trisha drank Mexican tap water on a rollercoaster during a bout of gastric flu. It's...

FLIPSIDE'S AGONY EXPRESS

Dear Flipside,
I'm worried my girlfriend doesn't understand me. I work hard as a violent rapper and it's my birthday coming up, but whenever I lay subtle hints that I REALLY WANT 18” SPINDERELLA RIMS for my big present, she only looks a little bit like she's going to get them. Please help me, or I'll get my bodyguard to kill you.
Concerned, Penthouse

*Dear Concerned, this is a common situation, violent rappers are always threatening to kill me and it nearly always ends in failure and humiliation. Instead of threatening to kill me, why not leave the music industry and move to the other side of the world? Just before you leave, find two upcoming stars who are more deserving of your success, then give them all your money and fame. This is the only way to true happiness. Alternatively, your girlfriend can get Spinderella rims from “Clinton's Unda Da Rims” c/o Dr Chicken.

Dear Flipside,
I am a young fatherless schoolboy who is caught up in a life of petty wheel-accessory crime, but an inspirational hip hop double act has started to play at our school. I've become mates with one of them and he's told me to give up the crimes. The problem is that my crime boss overlord urgently wants me to steal a set of 18” Spinderellas. What should I do? I wish you were my dad.
Confused, St Salive

*Okay. Let's get one thing clear – I ain't ready to be no-one's dad just now. I even have issues being an agony aunt, and that's just a figure of speech. However, the important thing to remember is that inspirational hip hop double acts are always right and you should do whatever they say. And buy their records. And tell all your friends. And take over a record label so you can sign them.

Dear Flipside,
I am an attractive blonde school teacher but I just can't seem to find a man to father children in my womb. Sorry. I mean “a boyfriend”. No strings – just a boyfriend. My latest baby-daddy – I mean inseminator – sorry, “boyfriend” - seems like he might be scared by my constant demands for sex. The thing is, I can't really hear what he says because of the loud ticking of my body clock. I think I might be coming between him and his hip hop co-star. Do you think I am? Should that bother me? Can you hear that noise? TICK TOCK TICK TOCK... What is that? I'm not desperate. I just want to gestate something in my belly. I mean, “have fun and friendship with no commitment”. Help me.
Desperate, St Salive

*Dear Miss Olsen, you are definitely coming between your boyfriend and his ultra talented hip hop co-star – but don't despair, there are many ways to work through this problem. The first thing you should do is butt-out. If that doesn't work, you could try slinging your hook, or taking a hike. Failing that, there are many self-help books on the market with clear instructions on how to get bent. In extreme circumstances, why not try dating my manager? You probably deserve each other.

Dear Flipside,
I run an unlikely wheel-rim-based crime syndicate from a chicken diner. Unfortunately an internet hip hop agony aunt has advised my best rim thief to give up his life of crime, and now a violent rapper's girlfriend is going to kill me because I can't get the 18” Spinderellas she ordered. Please help me. This is all your fault.
Worried, Dr Chicken

*No time to answer that one... What else have we got...?

Dear Flipside,
There's an insane school teacher in my office demanding my genetic material. She says you sent her. No problem. Just wan

DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT!

This is Trexx here, totally geeked up on my own excitement. Flip's towelling my jowls, my boots in the deep freeze, but I still can't calm down. You want to know why? Cos I've just met DJ RESPLENDENT!

DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT! DJ RESPLENDENT!

Seriously though:

D.J. RESPLENDENT!

I met the actual, real, best, sweary-est, 1990s legend-est, most highly be-tracksuited-est, gone-totally-insane-est, King ov Da Rhyme himself; DJ Resplendent.

I'm gonna say it one more time just in case you missed it or I didn't believe myself – I MET DJ RESPLENDENT !

*No. It's no good. I don't believe me. I can't have met THE DJ RESPLENDENT. I gotta be lying.
**But I ain't lying. I met da Man – cos Ollie got him to agree to produce our next single.
*Well if I ain't lying then where's this single?
**Well that's a bit complicated and I don't want to talk about it to myself right now.

Now, I know you all know everything there is to know about DJ Resplendent (I mentioned I met him, right?), but let me just refresh your memories about some of his many achievements:

Released a record so offensive that EVERY SINGLE WORD had to be bleeped out
Bought a major New York hotel just to house his collection of tracksuits
Used the Eiffel Tower as a speaker stack
Used Belgium as a sub woofer
Wore a fur coat that was so huge and fluffy his crew got lost in it for two weeks
Made the best and rarest piece of hip hop vinyl that the world has hardly never seen – the legendary “King of Da Rhyme” - then recalled every single copy on the day of its release and ate them with his bare teeth.

There's no doubt about it – DJ Resplendent is SICK! And when I say sick I mean that he has serious mental health issues, caused by an improbable mental breakdown which led to him living on a roundabout on the A653.

So what's the first thing I do when I go over to my manager's office to impress my ultimate, all time, dangerously unbalanced hero?

Well the first thing I did was shout his name a lot and rush at him unexpectedly, waving my copy of King of Da Rhyme: the record which triggered his total mental collapse. That was bound to go down well.
Then, I lost King of Da Rhyme due to confusion wiv a welly and had to spend most of the rest of the day trying to get it back off a well angry vicar in a charity shop. Again, textbook hero-impressing technique.
Finally, and most importantly, we played him a brand new track featuring his own, ultra-rare, King of Da Rhyme. A record he hadn't heard since it drove him insane and caused him to eat every other copy with his bare teeth. This last part really impressed him. It impressed him so much that he ransacked Mr Brill's office, jacked my record, ate it, and then jumped out of the window shouting that he was Mick Hucknall.

And people say you should never meet your heroes...

This here is Flipside takin' you ringside, givin' you the upside and the downside of getting left at the wayside on our way to the B.R.A.s, where we made faux pas with the paps and the cars. So don't have a kip, just listen to Flip and I'll tell you how B*Ice ended up in a skip...

Yeah, you heard right - me and my bro got invited to the British Rap Awards this week. Now, a few immature people out there have been titterin' about the fact that this prestigious night in the music calendar abbreviates to spell out a honey's set of boobie hammocks. That just ain't frosty – the B.R.A.s are just as important as the Awards for Rap Success in Entertainment; and no-one ever laughs at them.

So how do the UK's most upcomingest hip hop megastars prepare to brave the scrum of the world's gutter press, and then fight our way into it? How do we deal with the incessant barrage of intrusive flash photography, and hang around in front of it for as long as we can? Find out in...

Flipside's Guide to the Red Carpet:

1. The most import thing to remember when faced with a red carpet is that although it's a carpet and can stain easily, you don't have to take your shoes off and tip-toe over it in your socks like you might have to at some uptight auntie's house. But also, don't wipe your feet on it neither. It ain't a mat.
2. When preparing for a red carpet event it's important to remember that although the eyes of the world may be on you, it's what's on the inside that counts. And what's on the inside is your brain – a brain which better be tellin' you to dress up and look well pimped, because it's what's on the outside that counts.
3. When selecting a couple of honeys to accompany you to the awards show, don't reject your manager's assistant's cousins out of hand just because they look like a couple of mingers in the photo she shows you. It may be that you are lookin' at an old photo and they have somehow become hot cos of all feminine things happenin' to their bodies an' that. Make sure you demand an up-to-date photo, then reject them out-of-hand if they are still mingers.
4. If you are plannin' on hiring a limo for the event, make absolutely sure that you're not sharin' it wiv a right load of pissed-up slappers on a hen night. These women will most likely steal your threads and your invites and dump you on a street which looks suspiciously like it's in Manchester. On the other hand, don't share a limo wiv B-Ice dressed up in tramp's clothes neither. He will probably recognise you and throw you out as well. In fact the whole limo business is probably best steered well clear of.
5. If you do find yourself stripped off in the street and thrown out of successive limos, the best thing to do is find a well juiced tramp who just happens to be dressed in hip hop finery. This boy will be only too happy to give you all his gear; including VIP tickets, and B-Ice's phone. Then, having got back all the stuff you need for your biggest night of the year, have a moment of soul searchin' where you realise how shallow you've been. The most important thing in life is people, and friendship; not honeys, awards, VIPs, limos, photographers and celebrities.
6. Give your tickets, phones, and honeys away to your friends. Walk away into the night feelin' sweet.
7. Really, seriously regret doing (6.) later that night when you wake up screaming and covered in sweat.
8. If you are B-Ice, make sure you delude yourself that wearing tramp's clothes will make you look street. Then forget to take your tickets and phone out of your clothes when you swap them wiv the tramp. When you arrive at the awards, get thrown into a massive wheelie bin by a burly security man who doesn't recognise you.

And that concludes my guide to the red carpet at the B.R.A.s. Join me next week when I'll be tellin' you how to avoid bein' electrocuted by ninjas on the way to the MOBOs...