In Competition No. 2684 you were invited to take a well-known literary figure and cast them in the role of agony aunt/uncle, submitting a problem of your invention and their solution. Some of you interpreted ‘literary figure’ as a fictional character; others as an author. Either was acceptable. You were all so good this week that it was difficult to whittle down what was a larger-than-usual entry to just six, so congratulations all round. The winners earn £25 each. George Simmers gets £30.
Dear Uncle DHL. There is a pleasant young lady in accounts, whom I wish to invite to the firm’s Christmas ‘do’. What should I say to her?
Say little. There is a look, unflinching, intimate, direct, that will establish from the first the basis of your relationship — that you will be master, as a man must. It tells her firmly that she can be nothing to you if her responses are in the mind alone — mere sex-in-the head; instinctively, she will know that you mean to arouse deep longings in her solar plexus, and to explore the core of her physical jungle, the last and deepest recesses of organic shame. Should she shy away from you like a frightened foal, dare to touch her, and with strokes of infinite gentleness let her understand that you are in tune with the rhythms of her most private nature.
George Simmers
Dear Uncle Eddie. Our daughter Henrietta aged 7 has a lively imagination and the potential, we believe, to become a notable author, essayist, poet and playwright, just like you. Unfortunately her teachers to date have equipped her with scant knowledge apropos the finer points of grammar. An understanding of syntax, parts of speech, spelling, semantics, punctuation and parsing is essential to her future career. What should we do? Anxious.
dear anxious) grammar is i guess (may children always gather flowers) to growing as a grimace is to half a smile or no is to perhaps. in Just yearfour when playgrounds laugh skippingropes and fivestones and dinnerladies whistles whistle far and wee — indoor blackboards (as chalk is to kisschase and gloom is to glad) weep syntax and spellinglists (a capital letter makes a Dull december, a full stop is an ending to begin). youse best re (grammarwise) lax — (e.e.cummings)
Alan Millard
Dear Mr Le Carré. Somehow I can’t shake off the feeling that there are people out to get me, that I’m being followed, spied on and generally conspired against. Friends say I’m having paranoid delusions, but they could be a part of it too, couldn’t they?
You’re right. You can trust no one. Nothing is what it seems. Deception and betrayal are the default modes. All I can suggest is that you find a shabby-genteel ‘safe house’ somewhere on the south coast with a quaint, deferential landlady and a kettle in your room. You will probably meet a few lower-middle-class people who cannot get their idioms quite right and I expect at times you may notice a suspiciously parked car. Keep your nerve. Establish regular habits. Try to fade into the local landscape. It will be a rather dull existence, but better than the alternative.
G.M. Davis
There’s this girl I really fancy only she’s like going out with a total monster. How can I make her notice me? Shy Teenager.
Hwaet! These situations can be painful, but what you need is an epic gesture. First, recruit twelve loyal pals (you’ll need to keep them on-side with gifts of gold). And get a big sword. Then lie in wait for the monster at night (watch out for his mother!) and hack him to bits. Then nail his arm over the girl’s door. You might get an ASBO, but remember the Words of Odin — ‘a hero’s fame never dies!’ (I’ll send you a leaflet). Forget the girl. Spend time with your companions down the mead-hall (lager is a good Norse alternative), and when you’re ready, pop round her house, burn it down, kill all her relatives, and carry her away. It always works for my blokes. The Beowulf-Poet
Brian Murdoch
Dear Oscar, I have a very large endowment but am at a loss as to how best to use it. Can you help?
Dear boy, you must put this good fortune in the hands of someone with experience and be wary of those who would want to use it for their own ends. It is a pleasant thing to sit back and watch it grow but tarry too long and your fine assets may wither away. Expose them to all the thrills and excitement that youth is heir to; patience that takes itself too literally is a vice. A patient man is one who observes when he can and regrets when he can’t. A large endowment attracts interest, of course, but interest is merely a promise of things to come. The admiration of others, my boy, can increase the joy of one’s possession. Flaunt it!
Max Ross
I am a member of the Conservative party. Should I accept an invitation to dine with a Liberal Democrat?
Received your letter this morning, and set about an immediate reply. My dear wife Carrie suggested that I respond that ‘What is sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.’ I said, in a somewhat humorous vein, that it was a fair question, and not a fowl one. For some unaccountable reason, she failed to find this amusing. I suggest that you enquire what is on the menu. After all, your would-be host is the injured party, and will be at pains to ensure that he offers you something palatable, if bland in consistency. You may suggest that you generally consume no fewer than four or five courses, and that, if this is acceptable, you will favour them with your company. On arrival, enquire, jocularly, if there are sufficient seats.
Bill Greenwell
No. 2687 misprint
You are invited to take a well known poem (please specify), change one letter in the first line (e.g., ‘They tuck you up, your mum and dad’) and continue for up to a further 15 lines. Please email entries, where possible, to lucy@spectator.co.uk by midday on 2 March.
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