Q. The most recent dog to arrive uninvited at our house, a little terrier, happened to behave impeccably, but in the past I have opened the doors to a variety of hounds from hell who have climbed on furniture, left messes and stolen food from the larder. You cannot very well turn people away when they arrive with uninvited dogs, but what would you suggest as a punishment fit for this crime?
E.G., Fosbury, Wilts
A. Welcome the dog, then pleasantly regale its owners with the cautionary tale of the guests who turned up at a nearby household with an uninvited naughty dog which wreaked havoc, desecrating carpets and beds. Moments before his guests re-entered their car for the return journey following Sunday luncheon, their host filled a dog’s bowl with a towering heap of leftovers and presided while the dog choked down the full melange. The resultant projectile vomiting and diarrhoea quite spoiled said return journey for the offenders. ‘Of course I wouldn’t do anything like that,’ you can add with a sinister smile.
Q. One Saturday, a fellow pupil of my daughter’s was taken home for the weekend by a helicopter which landed on the school’s playing fields. Totally unfazed by this unusual transport, the girl explained that Mummy had taken the Mercedes and Daddy would not bring the Aston Martin because he said it was too low-slung to clear the traffic-calming bumps on the school drive. He therefore flew over in his helicopter. I thought this might add a certain perspective to E.D.G’s dilemma (11 February) as to whether to take a green Granada or the decaying Fiat Panda to school functions.
D.I.B., North Yorkshire
A. Thank you for supplying this anecdote. It was indeed insensitive of the parents to send the helicopter to school. In the past the girl’s peers might well have been impressed by such a James Bond-like gesture. Nowadays, however, the parent arriving in a hybrid car like the Toyota Prius would score many more cool points than the eco-lout in the chopper.
Q. But why does A.C. of W8 (18 February) ever answer the door of her (comparatively) grand house in Kensington? It is safe to say that in most Western capitals anyone who, unannounced and unwelcome, knocks on your door or rings your bell is bound to bore and/or endanger you and waste your valuable time. It is quaint to see plays, films and television pieces in which the doorbell or telephone rings and someone instantly answers. I never, ever do such a foolish thing. The telephone is permanently on the answering machine — callers are told this in the instructions to leave a message — and all unannounced rings or knocks at the door are ignored. Thus is much precious living-time saved and much tedium and/or danger avoided.
V.A., Paris
A. But what about deliveries of presents, flowers and goods from the Boden catalogue? What about old friends who do not have your telephone number but just remember where you live? My own solution is superior. In the case of unwelcome acquaintances, grab a coat and say, ‘How great to see you, I was just going out. Will you walk with me to the Tube?’
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