Dear Mary, I have a problem for you — and
it's pretty scary.
Recently a man I'd never seen before Without so much as a by-your-leave walked through my front door, Ensconced himself in my favourite chair, Helped himself to a cigar, poured a whisky, and with an intolerably familiar aii, Before I'd scarcely drawn breath, Announced, 'I'm an old friend, don't you remember me? — Charlie Death.
I'm staying with you, officially, from now on.'
That was a month ago, and he still hasn't gone.
He shares my bed, borrows my shoes, Peers over my shoulder at the daily news, Monopolises the loo, and fills in the crossword clues.
Mary, I'm so mortified I've even thought of committing suicide.
But since that wouldn't be, any more than he is, very nice, Please, please give me your advice.
What is the most correct, the politest, the best
Way to get rid of this pestiferous unwanted 'guest'? James Michie
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