Dear Lady Violet,
I've been seeing this guy for several months now, and although he's always very well dressed, nicely turned out and drives a swanky car with chrome fluffy dice, he says he's homeless and insists we have sex in a cardboard box underneath Waterloo Bridge. (On the pavement, that is).
He's recently had a tattoo of a woman's name done, on his chest. It says 'Carlotta', but my name's Euphemia. Do you think he's hiding something from me?
My Dear Miss Bentwood-Trippy,
The old sex-in-a-cardboard-box thing, eh? Chrome fluffy dice, too? The Waterloo Bridge pavement bonk's not new either, I'm afraid. There were many, many successful comings-together in that vicinity during the last Wartime blackouts. But this fellow sounds like a winner!
Might I suggest that you go along with this mysterious chap? As for the Carlotta dilemma - change your name. "Euphemia" sounds like putting sick animals to sleep anyway.
And you can quite easily overcome any misgivings about the cardboard box humpety-hump thing by keeping a small but powerfully amplified cd player about your person. Play rousing military melodies - The Band of the Coldstream Guards with "On the Quarterdeck", or Souza's grand "Shagger's Farewell" while you're at it and it will help divert nosey passers-by from your squeals of al fresco delight.
Dear Lady Violet,
I'm writing to let you know about my recent successes! As you know, I live in Birmingham, and have had terrible problems locating a reliable local witchdoctor. Well - I've now found one! He has cleansed me thoroughly, given me a spell in a bag which I can put under the clock on the mantelpiece and told me that my difficulty with finding work is that I'm a complete twat and anyone will realise that within the first ten seconds of meeting me. It was a relief to hear that it was something that simple, I can tell you!
He is now solving all my employment problems by letting me buy into a new company - which will mean that I can now use my City & Guilds qualification in stunt riding - I will be self-employed, and he'll get my startup costs and 100% of my first year's profits. It's win-win!
My only problem is the attitude of my family. They don't believe in it, and are telling me it's a scam. My Dad's even stopped my pocket money. What should I do?
Your pathetic letter hardly deserves an answer. In my long and varied experience of twats, they invariably knew they were twats. Not to beggars belief.
Your family and your father are quite right. This is undoubtedly a confidence trick. Witchdoctors all live in Manchester. So rid yourself of the stupid spell - it may well work - and purchase a day return to Manchester where any number of exotic necromancers will be only too pleased to relieve you of any assets you may have, you stupid, stupid boy.
Yours in exasperation,