From our UK edition
From Ruth Davidson Q. My mother often tells me that I look scruffy. What’s the appropriate dress for a leader of the Scottish Conservative Party? A. Your mother should relax. Your own spontaneously evolved style speaks so eloquently of egolessness that it is of wide appeal to your fan base.
From our UK edition
From Lord Archer Q. Since my wife (also Mary) became chairman of the Science Museum, she is regularly invited to posh lunches and dinners, while I remain at home with her cat (Sunita), ordering takeaways. When I was finally invited out, to the opening of the Bloomberg HQ in the City, Mary was seated between the governor of the Bank of England and the Lord Mayor, while I was relegated to the far end of the table and asked if I was the husband of Dame Mary Archer. I feel lonely and rejected. How can I improve my situation? A. Turn the nuisance to your advantage and found an elite social club for men in the same boat. These could include HRH the Duke of Edinburgh, Philip May, Ned Rocknroll and Cdr Timothy Lawrence.
From our UK edition
From Tim Martin Q. I have campaigned vociferously for Brexit. In my own world of pubs, Leavers prevail. However, my wife insists I attend Remain-dominated dinner parties over Christmas, where I am as popular as Jonny Bairstow in an Aussie team talk. How can I ingratiate myself with the bourgeoisie? A. Subtly encourage the inevitable kangaroo court atmosphere so the rival males can let off steam and use you as a verbal punchbag, asserting their masculinity and showing off in front of their wives. You might initiate a dispute on one of the Leave campaign’s less sound assertions and concede points so they can be seen to have ‘won’. Let Christmas spirit prevail as you use your own unpopularity to boost the group’s self-esteem.
From our UK edition
From Jacob Rees-Mogg MP Q. My two eldest sons are becoming quite good at playing the trumpet but when they practise this wakes the baby. Nanny does not approve. I don’t want to discourage them. But we mustn’t upset Nanny. What do you recommend? A. Youthful trumpetry is often a precursor to fame and fortune in other areas. The late Sir Bernard Fergusson (Lord Ballantrae) entitled his memoirs The Trumpet in the Hall. Give Nanny Veronica a harmonica to join in. Let them practise in the wine cellar while she watches baby on a hand-cam.
From our UK edition
From Sir Vince Cable MP Q. I have an unfulfilled ambition to win a national title for ballroom dancing in my age group. But this leadership thing gets in the way of my training. What’s more important — Parliament’s squabbling schoolroom or Blackpool’s twinkle-toes ballroom? A. What’s all this either/or business? These days the only way to become a leader is to become a celebrity first. Viz Trump. If they like you as leader it won’t be because you’ve got the ‘leadership thing’ — it will have been the twinkle toes that swung it.
From our UK edition
From Sir Vince Cable MP Q. I have an unfulfilled ambition to win a national title for ballroom dancing in my age group. But this leadership thing gets in the way of my training. What’s more important — Parliament’s squabbling schoolroom or Blackpool’s twinkle-toes ballroom? A. What’s all this either/or business? These days the only way to become a leader is to become a celebrity first. Viz Trump. If they like you as leader it won’t be because you’ve got the ‘leadership thing’ — it will have been the twinkle toes that swung it. From Jacob Rees-Mogg MP Q. My two eldest sons are becoming quite good at playing the trumpet but when they practise this wakes the baby. Nanny does not approve.
From our UK edition
For the young heterosexual Spectator male, the dating world is beset with perplexities. It was all so different in his father’s era, when making a pass was not seen by women as harassment or assault but as par for the course on the romance-seeking circuit. Lunging for kisses without invitation and even pressing girls against a wall were the normal codes of conduct until 2000. The perma-passion of the dance floor, where women and men moved in rhythm, held in each other’s arms, allowed for swifter interpretations and conclusions than any other flirting method. Indeed, some men were even taught by their mothers that it was ‘rude not to have an erection’ when dancing a slow waltz with a woman.
From our UK edition
Q. My wife and I were having lunch in our local bistro. A boy of about two was wandering around the restaurant and after a while began to scream loudly, with no remonstration by his parents. At this point my wife asked them if they could make the child desist. This brought a diatribe of abuse from the Aussie hipster father. The mother’s response (she was a Mitteleuropean) was that he was only small. Management was reluctant to intervene so what should we have done? — C.H.-T., by email A. The same people who fly off the handle in response to someone trying to ‘boss them about’ will happily obey the same orders if they come in the form of a general announcement.
From our UK edition
Q. We have reached the age when we are receiving invitations from our friends for Golden Wedding celebrations. All the invitations clearly state no presents please. It feels dreadful to arrive without a gift, especially as others have obviously ignored the hosts’ request and arrived with presents. What to do? — M & D., Somerset A. It is annoying for such hosts who quite emphatically ask for no presents. They are not being coy but, at their age, actually feel panic at the thought of new clutter coming into the house.
From our UK edition
Q. I was recently at an informal dinner given by two dear friends, but returned home seething with rage against one of their two guests. The odd thing was that for at least half of the dinner I had liked her; she had seemed soothing and articulate and had a pretty face. Her true colours emerged only when our warm-hearted hostess suddenly remembered that both of our mothers (like thousands of others) had worked at Bletchley Park during the war. She kindly tried to find the book I wrote about my mother but I reminded her that she had lent it to a friend. I had not said a word about my mother but the guest then started boasting that her mother had been in the most important hut with Alan Turing et al.
From our UK edition
Q. My husband, who used to be away on business most of the time, now works from home and has become bossy and dictatorial. He spends a good deal of his day advising me how the house could be better run. This is bringing tensions into our previously harmonious relationship. How can I put a stop to his interference in a delicate way without him feeling that I’ve ceased to respect his opinions? PS: the house already runs like clockwork. — Name and address withheld A. Why not act daft and agree with your husband that, since you seem to be less efficient than him, he should direct the running of the house himself and you will just obey his orders.
From our UK edition
Q. We have a family friend we don’t see nearly as much as we’d like. This is because he’s so near perfect — clever, funny, civilised, and also single with an interesting job — that he’s in great demand as a guest. When we do bag him before somebody else does we adore his company and he clearly enjoys ours. My gripe is that I’ve realised he’s been coming to stay with us for 30 years, either in houses we’ve rented abroad, in Scotland or just as a weekend guest at home, yet has never invited us to lunch, the cinema or even for a walk. This is nothing to do with a return of hospitality; he’s not in a position to ask us back and he’s generous with presents.
From our UK edition
Q. Twice in one week I have been found unready for my guests. Occasion one: in the garden, finishing my lunch. A knock at the front door. Standing there, smiling expectantly, a groomed guest to play bridge at 2 p.m. The time was 1.40 p.m. Occasion two: upstairs, changing for a 2 p.m. meeting at my home. A knock at the front door. I let my two guests in, still wearing my dressing gown. The time: 1.40 p.m. Your ruling, please. Is there a too-early time for someone to arrive? — Aggrieved hostess, Chichester A. No one should arrive even one minute early.
From our UK edition
Q. What is the etiquette of hospital visiting? A friend in his fifties is about to spend six weeks in a London hospital recovering from a heart operation. He will be in a private room. He is going to be fine but he will feel a bit fragile, so can you advise me how long I should stay, what I should bring, and, since I am one of his closest friends, whether I should organise a rota so that people don’t overlap? He is a very popular (and newly eligible) man, so he will have no shortage of visitors. — S.B., London W6 A.
From our UK edition
Q. A newish friend who has very good manners lent me a DVD of his grandfather at the Olympics. I forgot to watch it. Now, a year later, he has asked for it back but I can’t find it! It is unique and irreplaceable. I feel rather guilty but did not ask to borrow the DVD and why on earth did he wait a year to ask for it back? — E.S., Sussex A. If the man is old enough to have a grandfather who performed at the Olympics then he is old enough to be able to judge a friend’s ability with chaos control. The fact that he foisted the DVD on you therefore almost amounts to entrapment.
From our UK edition
Q. A well-known television mogul,whom I had met only once, came to dinner at my house. I was on good culinary form and though I say it myself, the food and wine were exceptional. For various reasons it turned into an almost bespoke dinner for the mogul, in that the other guests were all people he had been desperate to meet, and so one way or another he became the guest of honour. He even struck some sort of deal with one of them. In any case we had a great evening and he thanked me profusely as he left. The next day I opened the door to find someone with an unimpressive bunch of flowers together with a card from the mogul. They looked like the sort of flowers in cellophane that one might pick up at a petrol station.
From our UK edition
Q. We have moved from London into a rural area where we are preparing for the first visit of a lifelong friend who has become a self-invented countryman. I know that he will insist on foraging for mushrooms, but none of my family wants to go on kidney dialysis machines as a result of being forced to eat them. None of us (including him) are mushroom experts. Much as we love our friend, he is something of a bully. What should we do Mary? — Name and address withheld A. Buy in a store cupboard supply of dried chanterelles, ceps etc, and rehydrate them prior to his visit. Feign enthusiasm for making a risotto or omelette using his foraged harvest. Knock this up while his back is turned and present it as a fait accompli, after hiding his foraged mushrooms.
From our UK edition
Q. How can I avoid becoming seen as an ‘Instagram creeper’? My well-meaning niece tells me that I’m in danger of qualifying for this insult. Apparently it means a sort of Peeping Tom who views other people’s postings but never contributes any herself. I joined Instagram a year ago to promote a fundraising event, and it’s true that, though I posted six related images then, I have posted nothing since. But certain friends and acquaintances began following me at that time and so I followed them and now am totally addicted to viewing their indiscreet images of their lunches and holidays and children. I don’t want to post any of my own. For privacy reasons, I never signed up for Twitter or Facebook and the same goes for Instagram.
From our UK edition
Q. Last year my husband and I stayed with a much-loved, but slightly airy-fairy friend in her house in Tuscany. Flights, tips, presents, a hire car and house-sitters were already costing us rather a lot, but she insisted we went out to (quite expensive) local restaurants for lunch four days out of five to experience the regional cuisine. She let my husband pay each time. I felt this was overdoing it, especially as we had to pay for her, her husband and her three adult children, and they have had plenty of hospitality when staying with us in England. Mary, can you rule? Moreover how can we avoid it happening again when we join them later this year? — Name and address withheld. A. Your friends should have drawn the line at two lunches paid for by your husband.
From our UK edition
Q. My partner and I recently had two close friends — one a Peer, the other a former Member of the Scottish Parliament — over for lunch. During the course of an otherwise splendid meal, our friend from the House of Lords took a ten-minute call from a former prime minister, remaining at the table for the duration of the somewhat banal exchange. Should we be honoured to mix in such lofty circles, or should we be offended by such a breach of etiquette? — C.W.H., East Lothian A. This was undoubtedly a breach of etiquette, made worse by the Peer’s assumption that others present would be flattered by being privy to a call between grandees.
