Spectator competition winners: how not to write a letter of condolence

In Competition No. 3252, you were invited to write a letter of condolence on the mis-fortune of an acquaintance which, intentionally or not, would have the effect of lowering rather than raising the spirits.

An example of how not to write a condolence letter, according to New York-based funeral director Amy Cunningham, was Nancy Mitford’s upbeat ending to a letter to her cousin, who had just lost her husband: ‘It’s nice that Decca is coming over for a long visit. Why don’t you come to Versailles with her – I would put her in a hotel and you could stay with me. Think of it.’ It doesn’t seem all that bad to me, but those looking for inspiration on how to craft the perfectly pitched expression of sympathy should, Cunningham said, turn instead to sad, sweet Emily Dickinson.

Honourable mentions to Lydia Tyler, Sue Pickard and Ben Hale; £25 each to the best of a mischievous bunch, printed below.

Dear Steve,  Look, I’m so sorry, mate. I’ve just this minute heard the news that Catherine’s left you. I’d hate that to happen to anyone, but especially you, my best mate. You, me and Catherine, we go back such a long way, don’t we? She’s always been such a lovely girl – I can’t begin to imagine how you feel right now. She’s clever, funny, beautiful, kind. She’s just an all-round good egg. Okay, I guess you’ve had a few bumps in the road lately, but we all have those, don’t we? When you feel down, Steve, just remember all the good times. Anyway I’d better sign off now as I have to pick her up from the station and help her unpack. I’ll look after her, I promise. And if there’s ever anything Catherine and I can do for you, Steve my old mate, just give us a call.