The Pangolin

Dear Lady Violet,

I want to tell my bloke to stop talking. He's been talking non-stop for four years now - including during his sleep - and I've tried to mention it but I couldn't get a word in edgeways. Ironically, he actually goes on and on about how women never stop talking (I'm a woman, by the way) and I'm now working on a way of silencing him which won't lead to me receiving a lengthy prison sentence.

Any ideas? I could always record a couple of hours of his 'conversation' and play it for the judge in mitigation I suppose.

Yours in anticipation,

Camilla Sludge (aged 27, going on 75)

Lady V:

Dear Ms Sludge,

                              

You are not alone. In fact there are one or two celebrated cases - Wetwang v Thighgripper, Bloan v Tucknip and Flume v Schnott to name but three which came to court because of circumstances very similar to yours. In all three cases, the accused, Thighgripper, Bloan and Flume were found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment. Thighgripper [Muriel] for squirting superglue up Arnold Wetwang's nose; Brenda Bloan for battering Terence Tucknip to death with a sockful of rancid custard, and Edna Flume for attacking Gaylord Schnott with a pair of heavy-duty nutcrackers.

                                

Sadly, dear girl, there is only one answer. Leave him. Move far away. Do it NOW!

With sympathy,

Lady Violet

Dear Lady Violet,

I want to know how to stop making a complete prat of myself in public. Every time I see my current main squeeze's boss (who's Chancellor of the Exchequer, by the way) I can't stop myself whacking him round the face with a wet fish. I've apologised countless times, but each occasion is the same.

I once tried leaving the two-week-old plaice at home rather than popping it in my handbag, but that was no good because I nicked a plate of someone else's salad and whacked him with that instead - and that was worse, if anything. On each occasion I felt propelled by alien forces I couldn't control.

What should I do?

Love and kisses,

Drusilla Frogsbourne, OBE

My Dear Ms Frogsbourne,

                                                 

Frogsbourne. Osbourne. Is there something here I don't know about? No matter. I would suggest very strongly that you try very very hard to ditch all this fish nonsense. You are, after all, via your gentleman friend, in the presence of greatness. Our Chancellor is a lord amongst men; a shining example of all that is good and honourable in this troubled world, and he can well do without his aides turning up smelling of haddock.

Sternly,

Lady Violet