December 4, 2000

Assorted Letters for the Post, from Blandsdown Courtesy of Cuthbert Wilkins, Employee, Her Majesty's Postal Service Dear Santa, I'm not sure if I qualify for presents ever since I converted to Radical Paganism, but my darling kitties still believe in you. Paw-Paw would like some moisturizing creme for his dear mama so that when she snuggles next to her at night, Mama smells like lavender and roses. She also has his eye on a gift certificate for the feline masseuse who does such good things for her muscles. After all, a relaxed cat is a happy cat! Sing-Sing, however, has been a very, very, very, very good kitten this year, yes he has, the precious pudding. There's a very special program I'd like to send him to in Barbados in which he'd spend a week on the beach catching little fishies. Of course, I would have to accompany him. First class tickets would be delicious. Hoping you have a lovely Winter's Solstice, Melody Windover-Midden Santa-dear, It's me, Penelope. You know, Penelope Windsor-Smythe. I really can't ask for much this year, Santa-dear, except for peace on earth and good will towards all. Let there be no more war, and nothing but cheer. Penelope Windsor-Smythe P.S. Santa, my love, my '36 silver convertible has a scratch on the cigarette lighter. Can you replace the Rolls for me? And that Lady Tessa of Cleves. How did she get the interview in Hello! magazine instead of me? Give her a lovely case of acne, won't you, with my best wishes? My dear Mister Kringle, Forego the spittoon this year. One asks only for patience, and forebearance, for endurance, and the grace of being able to forgive. And a small pearl-handled revolver with an assortment of explosive bullets. Serenely, one remains, Lady Felicia Grandiose Santa, old bean, For Christmas, one only asks for one thing. In fact, it would make one happier than Mr. Gladsome O'Jolly of Happy Valley, Ecstaticshire, if the true owner of one's sister-in-law's cat would drop by and take them home. One knows perfectly well the wretched felines are not Melody Windover-Midden's. They are Satan's cats, and Melody is just looking after them for him. Nursing the scratch-marks, one remains for yet another Christmas, Sir Charles Grandiose   Jangled writes: Dear Sir Charles: My teen-age daughter wants to affix large jingle bells to her footwear for the duration of the holiday season. I have explained to her that truly refined people do not go forth in public with this sort of noisy footwear. Her response is "Ohhhh, Motherrrr!" and she insists that modern young people--even the truly refined ones--most certainly do. I ask you, Sir Charles, does your ward Penelope Windsor-Smythe tinkle in public? Jangled Nerves in Nottingham   Sir Charles replies: Shattered one, Young Penelope Windsor-Smythe, who is eighty-fourth in line for the throne, would never, ever, ever, do anything so gauche as to sew bells to her clothing. Percussion instruments belong in the orchestra, not upon one's fine Italian footwear. During this festive period of the year, young Penelope is fond of nothing more than the purchase of small trinkets to give to family and friends. She likes to spend a penny in the stationer's, then spend a penny in line at Harrod's. She also likes to spend a penny on the youth of the village, to ensure that they have warm, happy holidays as well. Her example, madame, is worth following. Wishing the lad a jolly good time, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose   Claire writes: Dear Sir Charles, As one of your devoted followers (so numerous, I understand, that were we sequins, Liberace and Elvis could have met their hearts desire) I am writing to express what a sterling example and fundamental impact you have had on my life. Only today, dining at a fine restaurant, did I behold a woman (accompanied by a man with obvious wealth) rise from her chair to display the most significant of bosom. It was then when I thought of you and wished I had on hand a Grandiose Good Manners Card that I may say: What store did you buy those in? What an influence, Sir Charles, you have been to me. Without your social graces leading the way, I would have been at a complete loss on beholding this spectacle. Instead, I thought of you and the words just seemed to flow into my mind. Hoping to continue to learn at your knee, as it were. Miss Claire LeAngle   Sir Charles replies: My dear, dear, dear, dear Miss LeAngle, Yes, one is quite exceptional, isn't one? A small aborigine could dress himself in blond curls and patent-leather shoes, rub his body with limburger cheese, pop out of a giant cake in the shape of a squid, and sing 'The Good Ship Lollipop" with his own digeridoo accompaniment for a birthday party, and still the birthday boy would say, upon going to bed, "By jove, that Sir Charles Grandiose is the most exceptional man I've seen today!" As ever, one continues to accept suggestions for Manners Cards. One will, of course, attribute the cards to their contributors. But the fame, glory, and fortune, of course, will remain one's own. Modestly, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose   Major Confusion writes: Hello, My wife and I have been married for five yrs. now. But I didn't love her when we were wed, and so I treated her like a dog, but I fell in love with her latter on down the road. Now she thinks we should split up so she can get over the past and maybe start over from scratch. During this time she says that I can have relations with other women, but I don't want to because of my love for her. And that she may consort with other men, which makes me jelouse, because of my love, and mad, because I'm the one that drove her away. If you have any advise you could give to this lonely but hopeful guy, it would be much appreasheated. Thank you, Josh   Sir Charles replies: Sirrah, One is as likely to have some advice to give you as a rather malnourished, syphilitic hamster wearing army boots and a corset is likely to walk into Buckingham Palace, withdraw a sabre, and duel Prince Harry for the affections of the 'Spice Girls.' Always happy to be appreasheated, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose