Dear Mary: your problems solved

Dear Mary: your problems solved

10 January 2012

Q. I find that I am unable to perform at my best because I am constantly in fear of losing my job. At the same time, I feel so angry and humiliated that I should be made to feel so insecure after fifty-three years faithful service that I am often deliberately neglectful of my duties. It is as if I am tempting dismissal, do you see? I feel empowered, as it were, by taking the decision out of my employers’ hands. After all, if the jumbo jet I am piloting goes down owing to my willful incompetence, they’ll have no option but to dismiss me, will they? On the other hand, I love my job dearly. It’s all I live for, Mary. You see my quandary.

–– H.G., Heathrow

A. I don’t think I do, 2nd Steward Grimsdale. But I advise readers to think twice before ordering hot snacks aboard the Channel Island Hopper.

16 January 2012

Q. I have developed an affection for a young man who kindly offers to trim my lawn whenever it is looking slightly seedy.  The trouble is, he will insist on working in the nude, regardless of the weather, and giving me knowing winks as he attends to my herbaceous borders.  Is this just playful fun – or is he hinting that he’d like to roger me senseless?  He is 17 and I am 89.

–– S.K.B., Montreux

 A. The young man in question is what is known in the (rough) trade as a “granny grabber”.  Dispense with his services immediately and hire a mature gardener, preferably one who is fat and ugly and who is sure to keep his clothes on.

19 January 2012

Q. As far as I am aware, Chichester is neither located in medieval Ireland, nor is it a province of Herr Ratzinger’s latterday Roman Empire. And yet, when I went into Boots in the recently pedestrianised city centre, with its lively and welcoming potted palms and its somewhat disconcerting fire-eaters and tumblers, and ordered eight billion assorted rubber contraceptives to be delivered, cash on delivery, to the home of Mr. Andrew Tyrie, our cheerful and popular Member of Parliament, the Assistant Manager, a Mr. Dennis Lushie, with whom I have enjoyed a cordial business relationship for many, many decades (only seven years ago he was very glad to sell me a 50 ml flagon of Old Spice Aftershave Lotion), threatened to have me forcibly removed if I didn’t desist from my demands. What do you make of this dreadful and rather frightening development, Mary? Are we turning into a police state?

–– G.N., West Sussex

A. I hope so.

27 JANUARY 2012

Q. Like everyone else, I find it increasingly impossible to keep up with people and their religions. In my day, you had C of E on your Birth Certificate, you attended a few marriages, a few funerals—some of them your own—and then that was that. But nowadays you have to be so careful of stepping on people’s religious pet bunions. Since she recently embraced Islam—not the militant branch I hasten to say—my wife is especially sensitive to this sort of thing. Recently we invited old friends over for a spot of supper—we’ve known this couple since I introduced them at a university hop nearly forty years ago. There’s no formality—with the four of us it’s all pot luck, no holds barred and the devil take the hindmost. But this time my wife thought we should make an effort. Our friends, you see, are Jewish—or at least, she is, he isn’t, and as my wife explained to me, the women wear the trousers in Jewish families. They are not religious and nor are we—well, apart from having recently converted our garden shed into a slaughterhouse merely as a convenience to my wife, who might otherwise find Islamic sumptuary laws difficult to abide by here in Twoddle Bumstead. In order to put our friends even more at ease than they normally are, my wife shaved her head and wore a dark-haired wig and she made me wear a mauve yarmulke, She served a lamb-shank and gefilte fish, and spoke Yiddish throughout dinner—except from when she read from the Talmud in Hebrew between courses. The evening came to an unpleasant end when our friends laughed heartily at what they clearly thought was a joke. My wife left the room in a huff.

 ––G.S., Wilts

A. My heart goes out to you. Semitic types—both Jewish people and Arabs—can be very touchy on questions of religious faith, and you were getting it from both sides. I think it’s time for you to brush up your C of E credentials and show that yours too can be a Church Militant.

23 JANUARY, 2012

Q. This Christmas I caught our postman and gave him a five pound note in the spirit of the season.  He roughly handed the note back to me, saying: “This wouldn’t buy a shag on the Old Kent Road from a dead whore.”  Not being familiar with the services available on the Old Kent Road, I’m wondering how to reward him in a more appropriate manner.  My husband advises caution.

–– D.W., Luton 

A. A tricky one – and thank you for bringing this problem to my attention.  My feeling is that if you were to open the door wearing nothing at all the next time the postman calls, he might forget about the fiver.  You can tell your husband, when he returns from work, that you had an important delivery.

2 FEBRUARY, 2012

Q. Our son, who is approaching his eighteenth birthday, has asked for a “bunk-up” with the actress Scarlett Johansson as his main present.  My husband, who is a famous film director, says he is happy to arrange this.  However, I am worried that, as Miss Johnansson is Norwegian, the language barrier could put a damper on proceedings.  What would you recommend in these circumstances, Mary?

–– Mrs Woody Allen (name withheld), New York

A.There is no need to worry.  All Norwegian girls are taught English as their second language and I feel sure your husband will derive enormous pleasure from seeing your son sow his seed in the furrow your husband ploughed.

3 MARCH 2012

Q. I am very attached to my fiancé, and I have every reason to look forward to a long and happy married life. I am no feminist, Mary, but I feel that sometimes he can be a little too masterful.  Last Friday, we were enjoying a traditional fish supper when my cat, Percy, jumped on the table crying out for tidbits.  My fiancé seized him by the neck and strangled him to death.  When I mentioned that Percy had been with me for eight happy years, my fiancé took my hand and said he hoped we would have many more than eight years together, and that he would make me much happier than Percy ever had.  I hope so too, Mary, but this is the third of my pets he has punished with death - first it was my budgie, Edgar, whose happy song enraged him beyond endurance, then it was my goldfish, Bobby, who he claimed was giving him the evil eye.  I’m happy to say I still have many household pets who have survived his attacks, but I’m just not sure how long it will take me to get used to this this kind of behaviour.

––B.W., Salop

A. I honestly wouldn’t worry if I were you.  What your fiancé said was perfectly true and as long as you have plenty of pets you have plenty of time.  If you should find it necessary to stock up a bit, may I suggest you invest in some fast-moving animals - greyhounds, whippets, a few polecats perhaps?  You might also consider creatures better able to fend for themselves - pit bulls maybe, and perhaps something exotic like a grizzly bear, an anaconda or a Bengal tiger.  You might think about replacing your budgie some kind of eagle or vulture and filling your empty aquarium with piranha. 

25 APRIL, 2012

Q. My husband has suggested that we take his stunningly beautiful 21-year-old secretary with us on our forthcoming holiday to Nepal. We are both 57. My concern is that, as she is a naturist who refuses to wear any clothes even when attending board meetings, she might find the weather a trifle parky.  Is there any way I can persuade my husband to reconsider, without hurting his feelings?

–– BJ, Carshalton

A. Naked women are often smelly as their bare skin absorbs a considerable degree of filth which the clothed community are able to avoid.  Try not washing for a month and then asking your husband to attend to you orally ‘down below’.  He will quickly grasp the inadvisability of his proposal.

12 JULY 2011

Q. My daughter has been seeing the Right Honourable George Osborne for more than two years. I have encouraged their intimacy, Mary, believing that Mr. Osborne was as honourable as his title suggested. A month ago, Mary, Mr. Osborne approached me to ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage, and was not offended when I withheld my consent pending a thorough investigation by my team of qualified men. Imagine my shock, Mary, when my men unearthed the astonishing but irrefutable information that, unbeknownst to my daughter and me, Mr. Osborne is the Chancellor of the Exchequer.  Not only that, Mary, but he turns out to be a married man. What would you suggest, Mary? I don’t know which way to turn, Mary.

–– P.M.C o’R, Wilts

A. I would suggest you attend to matters more suited to your sphere - potato-farming, bus-conducting, sheep-shearing, or whatever it is you do when you’re not poking your nose into affairs of state. 

4 JULY, 2012

Q. While on holiday in Egypt my wife was approached by a man who asked if he could tickle her clitoris.  He was an agreeable sort of chap but I’m a firm believer in monogamy.  How could I have let the fellow down gently, Mary?

–– BJ, Carshalton

A.  Explain to him that, when aroused, your wife is prone to deafening flatulence, the pungency of which has been known to strip paint.  Suggest that, if he is in earnest, he should avail himself of an Egyptian prostitute, many of whom are thriving in the “Arab Spring”.

4 JULY, 2012

Q. As a local magistrate and Chairman of the local Chamber of Commerce, I was not surprised when an old friend asked me to write a brief character testimonial to present to prospective employers. Like so many others in these iron times, my friend has not been having much luck in that department and frankly, Mary, I can’t see his luck improving. I did what I could for him, but it is not in my nature to tell lies. I do however believe in the power of humour, and therefore explained the amusing circumstances of our first meeting and the genuine comedy involved in our last encounter. Last time I ran into him was eight years ago.  I happened to be on the bench when he appeared in court to answer a charge of shoplifting a trio of sporting bras for his daughter, who was being considered for a place in the British Athletic Team as a sprinter. Not wishing to show favouritism, I sent him down for five years and saw to it that his daughter was rounded up for receiving stolen goods. The irony of this is that when we originally met thirty years ago we were both doing time in the Scrubs, he for robbing a string of post offices and me for extortion with menaces and aggravated assault. I have cleaned up my act, and I wish he could clean his up too. Since his discharge from prison three years ago he has been going straight, but does that entitle him to start giving me GBH of the ear hole to give him a leg up?

–– MKL, Sidcup 

A. I despair when I see endless parades of old lags like your friend who instead of seeing the error of their ways refuse to look any further than that the window that says “Obligation-Free Hand-Outs For Hearty Unreformed Felons”. I think you have done far too much already. It’s a pity we can no longer put men like this in the stocks and hurl heavy rocks at their smug, grinning faces. I’ve served five terms in prison myself, but I’ve never let my past stand in the way of my limitless ambitions.

9 OCTOBER

Q. I am currently writing a novel about sex and, as part of my research, I regularly visit brothels in order to gauge the measure of the phenomenon, so to speak.  Last week I encountered a senior government minister – stark naked and doing his damndest to slide a rubber johnny over a singularly flaccid penis.  What would have been the correct greeting in the circumstances, Mary?  (I should add that I am also extremely well known.)

–– Salman Rushdie, SW1

A. The correct response would have been: “George Osborne?  I didn’t know you were writing a novel too!”

NOVEMBER 8 2012

Q. My wife is in all respects an admirable woman and ours has been a happy marriage, based on true love, mutual respect and a depth of understanding that everyone who encounters us agrees is extraordinary. We are the proud parents of five sons, all of whom take after her and all of whom adore her. In their eyes she can do no wrong, and even though they are now all in their thirties and forties they still tend to imitate her turns of phrase, her tone of voice, her little tics and mannerisms—I should add that none of them has yet married. Since I adore her too, I generally find the effect of these filial homages enchanting, particularly so when the whole family is gathered together. I say “generally”, Mary. Nothing my wife does could ever disgust me, but I find the sight of all six of them picking their noses nothing short of repellent. Should I say something?

–– F.X.O’Z, Wilts

A. I think it would be a grotesque error of judgment to draw the attention of any or all of your loved ones to this harmless little trait, which for five of them is an act of love. The relationship between a parent and a child of the opposite sex is delicate, sacred and essentially private. You might appreciate this better if you had a daughter, but since you haven’t been fortunate enough to experience that bond, you might take the advice of the daughter of a wonderful father and the mother of a wonderful son and stay well out of it. Not every garden thrives on horse manure and heavy pruning. I might usefully add, as a matter of simple tact, that there are six of them and only one of you—and that leads me to echo the question so wisely posed to Malvolio over four hundred years ago by Sir Toby Belch:  Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there will be no more cakes and ale?