Dear Lady Violet,
I keep trying to discuss things with my husband, but to no avail. He just won't listen. I mean, I do try to vary my subject matter - from 'How on earth are we going to pay the mortgage on this 18th century minor stately home this month?' to 'Would you prefer leather or rubber for our "fun" outfits tonight?'
You'd think something would grab his attention, wouldn't you? But he just doesn't seem to be listening. I get no response from him at all.
My neighbours think that a private ouija board might be more effective than holding séances. Do you think the fact that he passed away fifteen years ago may have some bearing on the matter?
Meredith Bamboo, OBE
My Dear Mrs Bamboo,
I see you play the oboe. This could well be the root of your problem. Its a long accepted fact that the sound of that instrument drives the spirits of our loved ones from our hearths. Indeed, the Bishop of Glossop, the Right Reverend Alvin Stubby, a time-served spiritualist nutter if ever there was one, goes so far as to claim that the very appearance of the oboe is anathema to our dear departed.
So my advice to you is to get real and stop farting about with the Great Hereafter, flog the manor house and seek some sort of sheltered housing.
P.S. Ghosts hate trombones too.