Aunt Alice and Spot.

Aunt Alice
Dear Readers,

Alice is fearless, fun & some would say, crazy. But she LOVES to give

advice from her unique perspective: she is living in 1872, is

fictional & irreverent…..Brace yourselves…..This is not the usual

source of wisdom you may have seen before. After all, Victorian

ladies are few and far between these days. Here I was, expecting letters from ladies requesting advice about rude guests or how to best scent their stockings for maximum

effect, but no, I found Spot. Oh, well. What is an advice columnist to do

but attempt to salvage what she can and get the poor boy into a lifeboat?

 

He continues to plague me but I cannot abandon him! Below, are more of my sage and well-balanced replies to his posts since last Monday and as you can clearly see we start at where we left off; his GIRLFRIEND. Heaven help us all!

Pull up a chair…..And brace yourself, darlings…..This could get very interesting.

Enjoy.

 

Aunt Alice

 

Dear Spot,

Another day and here we are again. I don’t remember guessing your Madonna’s name as “Pug” but I suppose any praise is appreciated for my wisdom and insight.

 

What a wandering little heart you have! You’re chirping endlessly about one girl and now you confess to mashing up with another. For a rotund, yellow-gummed fellow with spots, you certainly don’t concern yourself with convention, do you?

 

I suspect this Myrtle has an addiction to wintergreen flavored gum and must have caught the scent of it on your breath… Her passionate appreciation for snogging makes me wonder…. As for the leaning, what else would you have her do? Unless you’re going to cart around a small step ladder, you should be grateful that the girl is attempting to accommodate you! Ungrateful boy!

 

And you’re not conquering any hills, my boy, until you’ve mastered your self! What nonsense! Keep you flag folded and be a gentleman!

 

And whatever you do, DO NOT declare your love to one girl while mashing on another! It’s bad form. And will lead to a stay in hospital at the rate you are going!

 

Most sincerely,

Aunt Alice

 

PS You will live. I suspect Myrtle is the one who is currently digesting those white make believe teeth of yours.

 

 

Dear Auntie Alice,

You called her Pug Liszt. I’m sorry to pull you up on that but you did, you really did you know. It was when I told you that she’d punched my teeth out and I had to use those white chewing gums as replacements. No matter, I must move on.

I’m in trouble again, and not sure why. I was thinking about your advice about growing taller but figured it would take too long to kiss Myrtle at her own height. As a short cut I thought that I would try Mums shoes on, and see what I looked like. Well, there I was bending over and prising the left one on to my foot, the right one went on very easily, (felt very comfy) when Dad walked-in. He asked if I had transvestite tendencies. I said that I didn’t know. I said that because I haven’t a clue what transvestite tendencies look like. The dictionary has been locked away ever since I was discovered looking up ‘carnal knowledge’ at the age of nine. The Encyclopedia Britannica was sold five years ago when Dad remarried, he said there was no need of it now as Gloria, my new Mum, knew everything. Gloria glowered at Dad when he said that, I wonder why. She is not home yet to ask about transvestites. Do you know what he was referring to?

Spot.

 

Dear Confused Spot,

Lucky for you, I am a woman of vast experience and a wide range of acquaintances. My second cousin’s husband was quite fond of wearing women’s underthings and had a strange interest in her shoes… So, it is my educated guess that your father fears that you prefer women’s fashions over your own.

 

It wasn’t too long ago when all men wore heels to show off their legs…

 

But alas, times have changed.

 

If you have a propensity to women’s clothes and shoes, please please do NOT borrow said items without permission. Women are very possessive of their dainties and would not be happy to see you in their Sunday best merely as an experiment to get you more snogging with Miss Myrtle Wintergreen the Gum Slayer.

 

Truthfully, I’m not sure what a transvestite is. It sounds medical….and a bit….contagious.

 

When in doubt of a word’s meaning, I avoid it like the plague until I can use it with confidence in a sentence and not provoke someone to choke on their canapé. That is good advice you can safely apply as you get older.

 

Yours sincerely,

Aunt Alice

 

PS You are a very funny boy.

 

 

Dearest benevolent Auntie Alice,

I have bad news. I am to be sent away. Dad says that I need toughening up, as I’m likely to turn into a sickly child if I carry on as I am and my spots will not clear away unless I change. I must admit that since my altercation with Pug they do seem somewhat worse with the yellow staining around my mouth accentuating the overall disfiguration of my face.

(I bought myself a pocket size dictionary as you can see from my word usage. Clever aren’t I? Haven’t looked up ‘transvestite’ yet, still on words beginning with A, B, C and D)

Anyway the thing is that I have to go…camping!

I have another disadvantage in life that I haven’t previously mentioned, but feel obliged to as I know that I will be embarrassed whilst under canvas.

My feet smell. They have always been the same. I have hidden this fact from everyone. Now, though, that we have become such GOOD friends, I feel that I can tell you some more personal defects that I have.

I will not bombard you with them all in one go, there are quite a lot actually, but can you recommend a quick solution to the stinking feet issue?

Oh, as an aside, do you think that I should ask Myrtle to come roughing it with me? Perhaps she could help me with raising a flag?

My grammar is improving don’t you think?

Spot.

 

Dear Intrepid Spot,

 

I am mystified at your attachment but flattered all the same. I was telling a friend just this morning that I feel as if I have unwittingly adopted a wayward nephew, a slow but sweet boy who seems to embrace his every disaster and…make the most of it.

 

Camping sounds like a refreshing opportunity. Either to improve your survival skills and health, add a bit of masculine fun to your experiences and….well, it could simply be the chance to get away, heal your injuries, let the yellow fade off and return a semi-normal young man–ready to face the world.

 

And MAYBE if you’re very good, approach the young ladies with renewed vigor. (god help them)

 

Spot. You CANNOT invite a young woman to go off camping with you. It is Not Proper and considering Myrtle’s odd addiction to snogging anyone chewing gum, I foresee great heartache for you if any other male camper chances to pull out a bit of peppermint chews after a campfire meal.

 

Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder. As for the flag; the raising of any flag is best left until you are older and improved in many ways dear boy!

 

NOW, let’s address your odorous feet. Powder helps. Take several fresh pairs of socks and a container of foot powder. Sprinkle some of the stuff inside the sock before putting it on. Just a dash, Spot. You don’t want clouds of white ash rising up with every step. You’ll look like a ghost walking! Wear fresh socks with powder each day.

 

THEN DO NOT STICK YOUR FEET IN PEOPLE’S FACES.

 

I wouldn’t normally say such an obvious thing, but dear Spot, with you I am learning to leave no stone unturned.

 

Your grammar is decidedly better. Good boy.

 

Your Very Own,

Aunt Alice

Dear Auntie,

I would appreciate brevity here as I’m full to overflowing with food, the eaten sort not the carrying it in bags as from returning from the shops sort. Hope that’s clear. What can I eat other than chips, burgers and ice cream Auntie? Something substantial but not fattening.

Oh spreading Spot.

You ask for brevity from me? Can I do brevity, oh yes I most certainly can! Only the other day I was asked by a maiden in all kinds of distress how she could…how can I say….reduce; yes that’s not bad, her husband’s ardor. I suggested bromide, in heavy doses. Apparently he is now in some mental institution suffering from depression, but it was not my fault that she forced him to eat the stuff. Eat vegetables dear boy, in vast quantities.

Aunt Alice

Dearest visionary Auntie Alice,

I have borrowed Jack’s dad’s iPad, (that’s a mouthful, and with few teeth, difficult to say) so that I am able to keep in touch with your metaphysical self. I have reached ‘P’ in the dictionary by the way.

I love the word ‘phantasmagoria’ and think that I actually had one last night….but I quickly focused my mind on other things. Is this normal if you look up words all the time? If it is, then I cannot wait until I reach T, and transvestite!

Where was I, ah yes, another problem. One to do with those defects about myself I mentioned to you.

I followed your advice on eating all my vegetables, both in order to improve my complexion and to trim down from my, as you so aptly put it, rotund shape. It is working, but in two ways, one now causing some acute embarrassment.

I am losing weight but passing rather a lot of wind. Eating cauliflower is a great way of dieting, but with it, comes hazards. Smelly ones!

My condition was made worse, and brought to everyones attention, after dinner when I bent down to pull on another fresh pair of socks.

We had all eaten beans…lots of beans. I am now smelling rather obnoxiously. I am so pleased with that dictionary, I sound quite intelligent don’t I? I am camping with The Boys Brigade by the way in some dark frightening forest miles from anywhere.

I have been banned from the tent Auntie Alice and it is cold outside. What can I do?

Spot.

 

How will Auntie Alice, the maven of advice, respond?

 

To be continued………Next Week in Female First, the UK’s most popular online celebrity gossip and lifestyle magazine. Part-one was published 12th August.

 

By Renee Bernard and Danny kemp.

 

 

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About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost confidence in myself let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post-traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made me jump out of my skin and that's when the anxiety attacks would start. I told my wife that I was okay and going regularly, but I wasn't. I could not cope with life and thought about ending it. Somehow or other with the help of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write. My very first story, Look Both Ways, Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I had a talent, raw, but nevertheless, it was there. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
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