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November 2, 1998

Easily Intimidated Press is proud to present Excerpts from our upcoming title of the month: Everything I Need to Know about Life I Learned from Sir Charles Grandiose: A Panoply of Pithy Philosophy for the Culturally Disadvantaged Be kind to the servants, and give them a pistol whipping only when the silver goes missing. Sharing is for sissies. Internet users who resort to 'smilies' will have a special place in H-ll reserved for them, most likely buffing to a high gloss the dugs of Satan. Common people may feel the urge to visit the loo on a daily basis. A bit of mind over matter, and this indignity can be completely avoided. Being eighty-fifth in line for the throne does not give one leeway to act as if one is merely ninety-third in line for the throne. Money isn't everything. Investing heavily in property and taking advantage of unrestrictive third-world child labour laws can diversify your interests. Top of the heap is not always top of the world. Any title higher than 'baronet' is mere ostentation, really. Our earth is precious, and its resources are finite. Which makes it quite important that the really important people get the best bits. Everyone has one unique talent. It's just a pity that for so many people, it happens to be expectorating. Trust in God. The fact that he created Teletubbies and the Spice Girls doesn't necessarily mean he's a senile old duffer. Family is more important than gold. Of course, one's mother-in-law weighs more than most heavy metals. "Thank you" and "please" are the sweetest words a person can say. If they happen to be six. Enjoy the simple things in life, such as a stunning dinner for forty a la Russe with fourteen courses and smoked pheasant imported from Norway, as well as an assortment of cheeses made by Carmelized nuns in Belgium. Every moment is a fleeting pleasure. Unless, of course, you happen to be among the ninety-nine percent of unfortunates who have to work for a living. Don't use the gene pool as your personal pissoir. Pixi writes: Dear Sir Charles, I've got this dilemma, see. Ronald Gerber, who is just da bomb, has asked me out after the game next week, and since I'm a cheerleader I've got all these practices this week and it's just a mess. And I have a paper due on Shakespeare the day after the game, you see, and Miss Bauer, who if you ask me would have a better attitude if she got some, and I ain't talking about a subscription to Cosmo, if you know what I mean. So anyway I was trying to think of what to do, and then I thought, you know, Sir Charles is a man of leisure and he doesn't do anything except sit on his fat limey ass all day sucking down cigars and whining about something or other while he scratches his 'roids. So hey! I thought. I'll just write him and charm him into writing the paper for me! Ten pages, and don't forget to spell check. Thanks in advance! Pixi Sir Charles replies: Loathsome child, Thought you'd charm me, did you? One had no idea the three witches from Macbeth had opened a finishing school. Apparently you were the first graduate? Kicking the correspondent on the Coriolanus, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Lord Blunkett writes: Dear Sir Charles, I humbly seek your advice, for I am but a lowly man unworthy of your level of intellect.  My problem is thus; for some time now I have been aware that one isn't exactly like all the other Earls, but more recently a more pressing concern has come to light.  My violent mood swings I can accept, the aliens broadcasting their mind-control rays I have blocked with my foil headpiece, yet my - shall we say - less than stable imaginings.  For example, I find myself calmly contemplating murder, only of the lower classes you realise - nobody that counts - but still, I worry that I am not normal.  Please convince me otherwise. Yours faithfully, Earl G. Blunkett of Ferrets (the place, not the small rodent) Sir Charles replies: Lord Blunkett, It is true that one has persuasive powers beyond the ken of most men. It is true that one once persuaded an undersized slug that it would be an ideal candidate for Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. It is also true that one convinced Margaret Thatcher that a little rouge wouldn't at all detract from the steely authority with which she wielded her power. Yet one would be more likely to convince Mr Seamus McDissipated of Licquorville, New Alesborough, the very man who invented the 'Leaning Tower of Vodka' and whose booze-laden coat is often wafted over pots of coq au vin to give it that authentic flavour of heavy alcohol, to become a teetotaler, than one would to convince the correspondent that he is normal. And not even going to try, one remains, Sir Charles Grandiose Sandra writes: dear sir charles, i am a teen who is caught in between two men.  one of them is the one i love, and the other is just a crush, who i like a lot. what do i do? sandra Sir Charles replies: My girl, There is such a thing as being too polite. Merely excuse yourself, extricate yourself from between them, and ask them not to stand quite so close in the future. Ever the gentleman, one remains Sir Charles Grandiose