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Dear Dido, What is the London Miss to do when confronted on the street by a jeering bloke? Does she smile or use a Jersey girl finger?
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Tinky
- Thursday, March 27 2008
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Dear London Miss:
Oh, yes, my dear, she must smile, smile winningly, flash her eyes, and duck into the nearest public house in hopes that he'll follow. One never knows where l'amour may lead. It was in just such a manner I met my first husband.
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Dear Dido, Everytime I talk to a bloke in a pub he talks to my bosoms as opposed to my face. It is rather unnerving; I don't dress overly raunchy - what gives?
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Dear Busty but Ungrateful,
My dear, you have eyes to see and ears to hear, and yet see and hear not, or however the phrase goes. Cherie, you are blessed with one of the supreme gifts of the goddess of l'amour - a sizeable bust that draws the gaze of the eligible male. Ah, my dear! You must, must, must dress the part! The required article is a bustiere in the classic sense - none of your mesh panels, you want good old fashioned bone. Wear your bustiere at all times, heave those lush bosoms of yours high, and you will soon be married.
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Alicia
- Thursday, March 27 2008
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Dear Dido, Any advice on how to spice up a marriage of many years? So many of my friends want to know.
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Dear Non-Spicy,
Ah, my dear, how often I am asked this very question. My invariable response: jealousy. Make him jealous, my dear. Nothing else but the green-eyed monster is such a spark to l'amour. Hang up the phone whenever he enters a room. Go to Harrod's for some fashionable new outfits, let him see you in them as you head out the door on some errand of two hours or so. Always wear make-up. Take up tennis lessons, my dear, with a young, handsome instructor. You understand. Take it from Dido, dear, your husband will soon be aglow in l'amour, and so will you!
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Alicia
- Saturday, March 29 2008
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Ahh, I see! I will cert..., uh, I mean my friends, will certainly appreciate this. Many thanks, Lady Dido.
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Dear Dido,
How do you convey to an aging gigolo, tactfully, that his time is up? I know how to do it by brute force but finesse is not one of my strengths.
Sincerely yours,
Stifling Yawns
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Dear Stifling Yawns:
My dear, there is no tactful way to end it. Only the severest of shocks can dislodge l'amour. I was once pushed down the side of a mountain at St. Moritz (the gentleman will remain nameless, but we are still friends) in order to get the point across. You must be brutal, ruthless, my dear. Gigolo, you say? Cut up his charge cards.
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Dear Dido,
Do tell, what is the perfect outfit for a lady to wear on a first date? (The location being dining out at a restaurant)
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Dear Dido,
I am mortified beyond words but find I can only turn to you - please help me - what is the proper way to deal with a man who, during a brief moment of l'amour infested me with - dare I say it - cooties?
My local chemist has mercifully provided me the ingredients with which I affected a swift massacre of said critters and I have boiled my bedclothes - but how shall I take my revenge upon the cad who did this to me?
I am horrified and ashamed beyond words but I know that you, Lady Dido, will know what to do.
Signed,
Infested in Ipswitch
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My poor Infested in Ipswitch,
I'm sorry to have to say it, dear, but it is he who has had his revenge upon you, you poor girl. L'Amour, delicate hothouse rose that it is, can seldom outlast "the invisible worm that flies in the night in the howling storm" if the bud has been plucked before the wedding day. My dear, if you'd only waited until you'd married him, you would have the rest of your lives together in which to enact your revenge. Now, I'm afraid all you can do is saddle him with your chemist bills.
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Dear Dido,
Is it normal for a woman to be in love with a younger man?
I've met a very nice bloke at a party. A friend told me that he is only 21 years old. I think I love him but I just turned 23. I'm in despair.
Sincerely,
An Older Woman
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My dear Older Woman,
Ah, l'Amour, l'Amour! It knows not age, cherie. It knows not la sensibilite. I myself twice married younger men, and they are the most darling ex-husbands. In fact, I'm in danger as we speak, my dear. L'Amour calls, and we can only follow!
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Dear Dido:
The love of my life was devoured last week by demon waterfowl, and although my devoted employer whisked me off instantly on his private yacht to the Aegean, I find myself--between drinking parties, shuffleboard games, sunbathing, shopping sprees, sightseeing excursions, disco dances, lavish entertainments in Capri's most opulent mansions, and casino winnings sufficient to set me up for life--feeling empty and bereft. Is this all there is?
Cash-flush in Capri
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Dearest Cash-flush in Capri:
Oh, my dear, how I envy you. The state of mourning is second only to the state of jealousy as an infallible spark to the flame of l'Amour. But my dear, you're going about it all wrong. Parties, games...no, no, no. "The Merry Widow" is a charming operetta but not an advisable marriage strategy. No, my dear, you must create an air of ineffable sadness and mystery about you. First and foremost, of course, are fetching mourning outfits. Put some of those winnings of yours to practical use. Perhaps a day trip to Florence will turn something up. Veils can be worn in moderation. The right jewelry is important as well - pearls. Simple, elegant, vaguely suggestive of a watery grave. "These are pearls that were his eyes," should be your silent siren call.
Now, once you have your wardrobe, you must "haunt." Whilst everyone around you engages in their revels, you must lurk tragically on the outskirts, seen but not heard, and nurse a gin martini with olive. Occasionally, you might dab your eye with a black lace handkerchief. At casino, you might sit silently at the roulette wheel, betting on black. Whilst everyone else in sunbathing, you must stand at the edge of the deck, clutch the railing, and stare longingly out to sea, subtly hinting at thoughts of suicide. When attending a lavish dinner party, barely touch your food and be prone to soulful sighs. On your land excursions, take long, langourous solitary walks, preferably along the surf.
There is nothing that inflames a man with l'Amour so much as the opportunity to restore life and love to a wounded dove, my dear. And of course, your new-found lucre is only more incentive. Assuming there are eligible men around. I know a poor girl in just this situation - almost to a tee - who is currently aboard my nephew's yacht somewhere in the Mediterranean. For all her chances at l'Amour in that company, the poor starved creature might be in the middle of Antarctica. It's too triste!
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Jay C
- Sunday, April 13 2008
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Dear Dido,
What a wonderful service you do us all.
I have been wondering a while now whether to lash out, in the financial sense, and purchase a hair piece. Since my follicles became increasingly challenged some years ago I have found looking in the mirror akin to gazing at my late grandfather's portrait.
While he had a 'way' with the women, he indeed came to a most untimely end. Perhaps I should not torture myself with such concerns, but one final opinion would be most appreciated.
I have heard from various sources that baldness is often perceived as a sign of great virility. My opportunities to put this to the test have been limited of late,but your opinion might influence how I might proceed.
Hairless in Grimsby.
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Dearest Hairless in Grimsby,
You dear man, you dear, shiny-pated man. Mon cher, the gods forfend that you should cover up your heavenly dome with anything other than moisturising cream. Do you not know, silly creature, how the fair sex is inflamed with l'Amour at the sight of a distinguished, masculine, hairless countenance? Three out of my four darling ex-husbands were as bald as infants --- I adored them, and yes, I can attest to the virility of a nude noggin. Hairpiece, indeed. I ask you, Sir, did Winston Churchill require a hairpiece?
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Jay C
- Monday, April 14 2008
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Lady Dido. My eternal gratitude for your kind words and great wisdom. '{Three out of four ex'es!!!} I will immediately abandon my search for a suitable mop. Do you happen to remember which moistening cream Sir Winston used?
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Darling Hairless,
My dear, he used a bowler.
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Dear Dido,
How do you feel about love potions? I might be in a position to soon seek advice from someone well-versed in their usage; as I am utterly new to this, do you think it's a good idea? I have no one on the immediate horizon to shoot one at in particular; can they backfire? So many questions, but I'm also wondering your overall opinion - for or against??
Signed,
Studless in Studleigh
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