Right, I know this has been discussed in the mong sh@gging thread, but I wanted to raise this specific problem of mine before the wisdom of arrse. There's this girl, she's a bit simple but she's mostly harmless to others and a lifetime diet of fish fingers and coloured mash potato has been kind to her complexion and body, so she's a bit of a babe. She's taken a shine to me (she's simple, not made of wood) and to be fair, I would. Until she opens her mouth. You know how you can identify some mongs by a slight list to the side when they walk, or a small gnarled hand tucked under their chin? She doesn't have either of those symptoms. You know how some 'tards inappropriately scratch themselves or hug you in a way that is more invitation than affection, or shout obscenities and then giggle? She does those but no more than a normal chavette would. The main thing that singles her out as a moomin is her omnipresent 'poorly-wiped bottom' aroma, her almost frantic way of talking and the fact that she hasn't used any punctuation or pauses in her speech since childhood. Technically speaking she has been saying one continuous sentence since 1979. And she lies like Dale Winton smiles. Firstly, she insists everyone calls her by this made up name that sounds like it's straight out of Buck Rogers in the 25th Centuary: Miow. I'm not kidding, it's even on her docs. Obviously she's a locally employed civilian. She keeps talking about this boyfriend 'she just dumped' but to be fair, the nearest thing she's ever had to boyfriend is when she cut out a picture of Sebby Ballesteros, stuck it on the back of her curling tongs and played 'special lollipop.' She also keeps making up sob stories and group emails them to her 'special' male friends (you can't access the address group, but I'd bet my bar in Cuba that I'm the only one on it ). This is clearly attention seeking behaviour and I don't think she's far from a 'cry for help.' Luckily, she's turned to a nice guy (me), and I think I'm in a real position to help her through her illness and maybe put her on the path toward a fully functional life away from her DHSS basement bedsit (complete with tied up stacks of newspapers, collection of headless Barbie dolls and flock of cats). It's only a matter of time before she finds a bloke less community spirited and she's going to get taken for a ride. What should I do?