Counselling: Auntie Ag and Uncle Ony

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KNICKERS IN A TWIST

I have gained a small collection of ladies' knickers, left by those long- forgotten, passing through. When a visitor has had to abandon their own, due to a moment's excitement making theirs uncomfortable, I have offered one of the collection (washed and ironed). To my surprise, they have always been rejected. I have considered donating them to Oxfam or the like, but they are of such light construction as to offer little serviceability to those who might have need in those parts. Any suggestions?

Jack, Scunthorpe

UNCLE ONY: I have a strong feeling here that you are simply trying to show off. Well, it cuts no ice on this page, I can tell you. So you've been having wild, uninhibited sex with a variety of different women. That is not big and it's not clever. And the fact that you feel the need to boast about it suggests that in fact you are deeply insecure. Go on, admit it, you bought the knickers yourself, just to make it look as though you've had lots of "experience". Ho. You don't fool me, young fellow-me-lad.

AUNTIE AG: Jealousy, Ony, is a terrible thing. What an extraordinary variation on bedpost-notching. Does it not occur to you, angel, that a current inamorata might not care to be reminded that there have been others "passing through", no matter how long-forgotten? If you really want to pursue this strange underwear-supplying fetish, lay in a stock of immaculate, unworn, size 12s and proffer them with the label still attached, still in their wrappings. As for the old ones, throw them away. I cannot imagine what kind of person has room in their home for a collection of second- hand knickers. Ugh.

HORSEPOWER

I have just met this lovely man who is not only witty, intelligent and attractive (and seems to quite like me), he can also make love like a stallion. We've just spent the weekend together and had sex eight or nine times in less than 36 hours. The trouble is, it all seems too good to be true. Will he keep it up?

Satiated, Richmond

UNCLE ONY: Why oh why oh why do you ladies persist in equating a successful sexual liaison with a successful relationship? It really doesn't matter whether he carries on being able to achieve what sounds to me like an exaggerated amount of serial penetration. What matters is that he remains witty, intelligent and attractive; the qualities that attracted you before you even met his willy. Unless he is suddenly struck dumb, lobotomised or his nose falls off you have every possibility of future happiness.

AUNTIE AG: To be honest, darling, my first reaction was one of sympathy. I've never thought making love like a stallion can be much good to anyone who isn't a mare. Sex eight or nine times in 36 hours (my goodness, angel, you can't even remember) sounds like far too much effort to be really fun. Also, you can't be getting much sleep, which means you will have big bags under your eyes and your skin will look dreadful. Hopefully he will soon simmer down and you will be able to concentrate on quality rather than quantity.

MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE

I have got such a dreadful hangover I want to tear my own head off. How can you tell when you've had enough to drink?

Paul, Hell (or somewhere close to it)

UNCLE ONY: The recommended safe limit for men is 21 units of alcohol per week. That's an average of three per day; a pint and a half of beer or three small glasses of wine. Sticking to this average is a good idea, because sadly there is apparently no virtue in saving up all your units and galloping the lot on a Saturday night.

AUNTIE AG: Some people just have some kind of built-in alcometer that kicks in and tells them when to stop, and some people don't. I'm afraid if you don't have one, darling, you simply don't have one, and hangovers are the price you pay. Never mind, angel. For every hangover, there is that wonderful purified feeling you get the next day where everything has stopped hurting and heaving - it's almost worth having the hangover in the first place, it's so lovely when it subsides.

THE YOUNG ONE

A new staff member has just started working in my office, and he sits in the desk opposite me. He is very nice and friendly, but he is very young (he looks about 15, though I suppose he must be a bit older than that) and I can hear him on the phone arranging to go "clubbing" and saying things like "cool" and "wicked" and "well-saucy". It makes me feel like his grandma, and I am only 30. Am I over the hill?

Charlotte, London E14

UNCLE ONY: Well, technically, if he really is 15, you are just about old enough to be his mother, Charlotte! Only kidding, ho ho. Of course you're not over the hill, my dear, in fact you are barely past your prime. With regular exercise and a sensible diet, you should be able to preserve your looks for quite possibly as much as another 10 years.

AUNTIE AG: Oh, Charlotte, you may no longer be a part of the cool and wicked universe inhabited by the teenagers of this world. But would you want to be? Every age has its compensations, and 30 is a wonderful age to be. Wouldn't you rather be sipping a well-chilled glass of Veuve Clicquot in the wine-bar rather than swigging Hooch straight from the bottle in some hideous warehouse? And, personally speaking, angel, I would feel very silly having to call things "well-saucy".

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