Picture: From the Sir Charles Grandiose Archives

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31 March, 1995

One's fair wife, the Lady Felicia, has deigned to assist one this week with a letter of a delicate nature. One has placed it at the end of this column, so that parents might shield it from the tender eyes of their babes. The Lady Felicia is, one finds, worthy of the attentions I have bestowed upon her, unlike most of modern womanhood, and thus her advice might be heeded safely.

Seat-Seething writes:

Dear Sir Charles:

I hesitated at first to write to you, for I felt that one such as myself ought not trouble one such as yourself with my paltry problems. However, I deemed it necessary to at last bring myself about to write you with this urgent bequest for assistance.

I am having the crudest of problems with my spousal companion. It seems that she has taken to wet her hiney in the porcelain facilities we share on more than one occassion. Now she chooses to blame me for her odd warped fetish, claiming that she is moist due to my reluctance to return the seat to its rested state after my own use of said facilities. Blasphemy, I say! Surely you can see through this veiled charade and realize that this is merely a cover-up for a very strange fascination. What can I do? Oh dear, what can I do?!?

Seat-Seething in Saskatchewan

Sir Charles replies:


It is apparent to one's discernment that both you and your wife are ill-bred, ill-mannered, and constitute the dregs of society. To bother one with such a question. Really! Polite society knows that one never unclenches one's sphincter, especially for such a low purpose. Do not write one again.

Hoping to have heard the last of you, one remains,
Sir Charles

Toast Point writes:

I've found this really wonderful man, and we're going to live together, but he's buying this frou-frou co-op and all this Queen Anne furniture and says I have to throw out my lava lamp, beanbag chairs and my entire collection of Precious Moments "Dog in the Rain" figurines! I'll die! How can I make hin see the light?

Toast Point in Teehaunek

Sir Charles replies:

O One of Dim Wits:

Apparently you have mistaken me for that brazen huzzy, the base charlatan Miss Loquita. One is certain she is acquainted with whatever 'Precious Moments' figurines may be. One neither knows nor cares, oneself.

Hoping you have lost this URL, one remains,
Sir Charles

Alamo writes:

Dear Sir Charles:

I am in the middle of a conflict with a fellow student. Ever since last year, and a silly misunderstanding, he has called me by an annoying nickname. Every time he sees me, he yells "Alamo!!" which is similar to my real name. I have known him for 2 years and he always finds some way to annoy me whenever I see him. Example: Following me around the schoolyard for several minutes and taking things from my bag and returning it to me later. What should I do about this troublesome teen? My friends, "Hester," "Mindy," and "Draya" constantly tease me about how the love impulse in males often shows itself in terms of conflict. Help me!

Alamo in Alameda

Sir Charles replies:


One sympathizes with your plight. As a lad one was often called such names, though they lacked the historical significance with which your nom de guerre is imbued. One can remember the nasty taunts to which one was subjected, 'pasty pasty rich boy' being the least of them. However, one forgives. One forgets. And one reaps the satisfaction of knowing that insufferable Millicent Simpley strongly resembles a sorely bad prune in her middle age, while one can afford his bi-weekly facial peels.

I thus remain your smooth and youthful
Sir Charles

As a special treat, one has enlisted the aid of my wife, the fair Lady Felicia, to help one with a question of a particularly delicate nature. One thus relinquishes the pen to her porcelain digits.

Stumped writes:

Dear Lady Felicia:

We hesitate to call on the opinion of others, yet we find it behooves us to do so in this circumstance. Without calling attention to this fact, could you offer assistance to ourselves?

We have recently begun to find a certain situation to be wearing upon our nerves, and would seek a polite way to resolve it. How does one politely inform one's husband to assist one in the making of the marital bed in the mornings. Surely, such a responsibility should not rest solely upon the wife.

Stumped in Sandringham

Lady Felicia replies:

Your Stumpedness:

One finds it amusing that such a dilemma would come up among peers (a witticism that will not escape you, surely!). For surely in polite society, one does not need to share a bed with one's spouse. One rests in separate beds, if not separate bedrooms, so this quandry need never arise. And, one hesitates to ask, whyever is one taking such a menial task upon oneself, when all well bred members of society know that the makings of the beds is firmly in the jurisdiction of the hired help?

Yours fitfully,
Lady Felicia

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