Speaker’s corner

ALMOST 25 years ago I launched – via a daily humour column I was writing in Johannesburg – an “Agony Aunt” column in which I invited readers to pour their hearts out to me.

They did and their problems were mostly about, well, you know … umm, well, umm … s*x. In those days newspapers were a lot less inclined to talk frankly about … well, you know. Must I say it again? S*x.

I received lots of letter and tried my best to answer them all. In fact the questions and answers eventually made a book – it won a Pullet Surprise – called S*x for the Extremely Shy (published by Penguin).

Threnody, my secretary, in her one and only file labelled “M” (it stands for Miscellaneous) has come across some letters which resulted from that series and which are of considerable public interest.

A reader, Morris Spitalnik, for example, recalled my advice about sitting next to a girl in a cinema and how to share the armrest to good effect. I advised that one presses one’s arm gently against hers and then slowly entwines the fingers. I suggested practising this in the dark at home with a bunch of bananas or an inflated rubber glove.

Spitalnik said his local theatre had no armrests on the seats so I suggested he should gently press his knee against hers. Then rub the length of his calf against hers – but not hard. (We don’t want to leg-wrestle her to the ground, do we?)

Now gently place a foot upon her toe. This, of course, is the ancient art of footsy-footsy or, in German, foot zen tramp enundcrus chen.

If she slaps your face, quickly release the pressure.

After a while try again. If she now beats you with her handbag and sprays Mace in your face, again relax the pressure.

If, in your third attempt, her actions indicate irritation – for example, she starts screaming – then you’ve picked a difficult one this time.

Spitalnik also asked: “I am too shy to make eye contact. When standing face to face, what should I look at?”

I explained that where you fix your eyes is critical to the smoothness of the conversation and suggested he settle on the chin. If he sees a mole with a hair growing out of it he must (if he can) settle for the nose.

But one must make up one’s mind where one’s eyes settle, otherwise they could start fibrillating, which can be alarming for both parties. I often wonder how Spitalnik got on. A man named Len asked: “If she has a name that is hard to pronounce or take seriously – like Virginia or Fanny – what should I call her?”

I explained that there was an etiquette governing endearments. What one calls a woman depends entirely on one’s relationship.

If, for instance, you have gone out with her once and you feel she likes you, try “sweetie pie”. Girls love that.

If she has Maced you a couple of times and cut your head open, call her long distance.

A young lady named Petunia Pappagaaie wrote saying she was “6 ft 2 in” (which immediately meant she was over the age of 50, otherwise she’d say she was nearly 2m), unmarried and wore very thick glasses and spat, involuntarily, whenever she used a word beginning with P. “How can I ensnare a man?” she asks. She added: “And I don’t etch, so how can I invite him to come up and see my etchings?”

I advised Petunia to get her name changed by deed of poll – but, obviously, not to Spitalnik.

She can still invite her date to see her etchings but when she gets him inside her apartment she should suddenly draw in her breath, and sob: “Oh no! My etchings! Gone! Stolen! Aaaaaaaeeeeee!”.

She must be careful not to overdo it.