CELEBRITY PROBLEMS SOLVED
Dear Mary. . .
Q. Earlier this year I led a group of three EEC foreign ministers and a European commissioner on a visit to South Africa. We flew overnight in a plane in which the RAF had kindly put four beds. As we fin- ished a nightcap, I wondered whether I should wait for my guests to realise they should start to make the most of the few hours' flight, and move off to their bunks, as they would if house guests. Or should I lead the way and risk accusations of the host breaking up the party? D. Hurd, Foreign and Commonwealth Office, London SW1 A. Despite initial resentment, most people are usually grateful to find themselves tucked up in bed, when they might other- wise have been staying up and undermining their health. A tactful way of bossing your fellow ministers into their bunks would have been for you discreetly to ask the pilot to dim the lights in the cabin — or even to flash them on and off as on commercial premises. You could have then stood up, with a sign of reluctance, and said, 'Oh dear, I'm afraid this happens. We have to go to our beds now.'
Q. In the National Trust shop attached to my house they sell, among many others, copies of my own books. One of the shop- ladies asked me to sign a copy for her. I crossed out my name on the title-page and
rewrote it underneath. 'Oh please put my name too,' she said. I should have known it, because she has been there several years. I thought it was Sally. To make sure, I asked, 'I forget — is it Sally with a "y" or an "ie"?' 'Who's Sally?' she said. What should I have replied?
N. Nicolson, Sissinghurst Castle, Kent.
A. You should have whispered, `I'm sorry. It's just that you remind me so much of a girl I was in love with as a young man. Her name was Sally.' Then, suddenly coming to your senses, you could have said more for- mally, 'Of course I know what yours is but can you spell it for me?'
Q. Last June, in the depths of the Brazilian jungle, the local shaman had prepared an unpleasant-smelling, hallucinogenic brew for his village, and a beaker of the stuff was ladled out and handed to me. But I had heard that strange and nasty things hap- pened to those who drank it; so I indicated that I would take just a single sip. As I put it to my mouth, I became aware that every- one was making signs to me that I should drink the entire cup: a very large one. Vari- ous things happened in the hours after that: a six-foot goldfish in a straw hat put its fin round my shoulder and asked me how I was, for instance. I didn't know how to answer him and I didn't know how to decline the full drink. How should I have replied to the shaman?
John Simpson, BBC, London, W12 A. I consider my solution to be something of a breakthrough. It will benefit intrepid newsmen and even teenagers being urged to swallow dangerous toxins by their peers. Purchase a Temidom', the new female pro- phylactic. This has a diameter of roughly three inches at its 'entrance' point. Pop the prophylactic into your mouth — having first removed the detachable plastic ring at its farthest end. Allow the balloon-shaped slack to sit comfortably on your tongue. 'Fie the opening ring so that it sits between your teeth and lips. The device, which is opaque-coloured, is now invisible and can be left in situ to collect unwanted drinks, pills, even a limited amount of foodstuffs, which you can then expel discreetly once the focus of attention has moved from you.
Mary Killen
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