For Competition 3406 you were invited to cast a well-known fictional or non-fictional character, living or dead, in the role of agony aunt or uncle and provide a problem of your invention and their solution.
There was very little to choose between an excellent crop. Unlucky losers include Bill Greenwell, Ralph Goldswain, Peter Smalley, Frank McDonald, Mark Ambrose, Bill Ries, Frank Upton and Brian Murdoch.
The £25 John Lewis vouchers go to those entries printed below.
Q: A near neighbour has a white van he insists on parking right outside my house, even though his own parking space usually stands unoccupied. At home most of the time and noticing its comings and infrequent goings, I ponder constantly how to resolve the situation amicably.
A: Amicably be damned! In van or rear, the white monstrosity described in thy beseechings hath transfixed thee to the limits of obsession. ’Tis a predicament I know, for all my locale hath been the insufficient vasts of seven seas, whereon I have been haunted by a whiteness I cannot unsee, a blankness that is nothingness and yet carries about it intimations of Eternity. Thy white leviathan hath consumed something of thee, be it only thy sanity, and a hunt to its or thy extinction stands revealed the sole route to resolution. The quarry stands outside thy very window – harpoon it, damn thee!
Adrian Fry/Captain Ahab
Dear Senor Borges: I hesitated to propose to my girl; now she has accepted and married someone else. What should I do?
Answer: In similar circumstances the Alexandrian poet Plestocles committed suicide by eating fire. Less drastic would be to take consolation from philosophy. Our universe, though unbounded, contains only a finite number of atoms. In time it will inevitably collapse and perish, but, following immutable laws, it must again expand and rebuild itself, using those same atoms. The process will be repeated infinitely, and since the permutations of a finite number of atoms are themselves finite, a fraction of these eternal recurrences will be universes precisely like ours. It may be consoling to consider that therefore (a fraction of infinity being itself infinite) countless future yous will in their turn have the opportunity to muster courage to propose more punctually. In a few cases, you may even be accepted.
George Simmers/J.L. Borges
Dear Mrs Malaprop,
I’m a happily married man, but I’ve developed an unwholesome infatuation with my mother-in-law. Please help.
Perturbed of Dorney
Dear Disturbed of Porny,
I’m sorry to hear you’ve taken a swine to your muddler-in-law, but it’s a more condom problem than most people are wary of. It’s known as ‘erratic transference’. Perhaps you’re secretly raving for someone to pimper and care for you, just like your own smotherer used to. How does your monster-in-law respond to your advantages? Is she rappelled? Or is she as inflatulated with you as you are with her? To resolve matters, try neuro-linguini programming: when tempted to think about your mutton–in-law, instead picture an unpleasant animal, like a wartyhag or a harrypottermas. This will gradually desanitise you to the charms of the muddy-in-loo. A word of whining: don’t mention this to your wife or you’ll end up in diverse proceedings.
Joseph Houlihan/Mrs Malaprop
You write, sir, that you are tempted to ask a young lady of your acquaintance to lie with you and your wife so you may have full conversation with them both. You assure me that your wife is well disposed to such a scheme but fear the lady will take your proposal ill for she appears mannerly and modest although rumour has it otherwise. Prithee, sir, do not importune her under any circumstances for if she is indeed careful of her reputation no good will come of it, viz. you risk the loss of your name. Procure instead a comely wench of easy virtue, nay, already debauched, who in return for gold will open up her purse for you and consent to the particular congress you describe. Indeed I know of such a one and can reveal to you her whereabouts. Write to me in the strictest confidence.
Sue Pickard/Moll Flanders
Aunt Titania, cans’t thou guide me through the predicament that afflicts me? I am in love, yet my companions murmur and say I am away with the fairies, that the object of my passion is a beast and I should be rid of him. Yet I dote on him in extremity. I know not what to do.
‘Love-in-Idleness’.
Dear ‘Love-in-Idleness’, hark not to the ne’er-sayers, nay, follow the dictates of thy heart. Indulge thy love, give him jewels from the deep, feed him with apricocks and purple grapes. Like the night owl, ride on moonbeams while thou can’st, for pleasure may swiftly flee. Do not, as alas did I, abandon thy dreams for one who is, forsooth, somewhat of a fairy, with a perverse fancy for changeling boys. Hence I commend thee from the bottom of my heart, be not sway’d by others, but straightway pursue thy dream.
Sylvia Fairley/Titania
Dear Pollyanna, I am having a terrible time with my neighbours. I invested in some peaceful, civilian-use-only heating technology, but they’ve got it into their heads that it’s going to explode all over their property. I think it might be the ‘Radiation – severe danger’ signs I stuck on for a joke. Anyway, they and their friend Donald have been throwing rocks over the fence all week and say they’ll keep it up until I move out. What can I do?
Dear Mr Khamenei, Why, your neighbours sound perfectly lovely! It’s delightful that they’re encouraging you to build a beautiful rockery in your garden and then take a holiday. Not everyone’s neighbours take such an interest, so remember to hunt out the glad things and invite them over for ice-cream before going to Church together. If Donald comes too you can be sure it’ll go with a bang!
Tom Adam/Pollyanna
No. 3409: Family matters
You are invited to submit parental advice courtesy of famous writers. Please email entries (150 words/16 lines maximum) to competition@spectator.co.uk by midday on 16 July.
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