Dear Jack Dee…

Dear Jack,

Have you ever used an alternative to shampoo? I find it is the household item which runs out most often when one is least expecting it. Only this morning, I found myself reaching for a bottle in the shower and finding nothing. Nada. Nil. Zilch. Nowt. Noodles.

I have read in the past that strawberries may be a natural alternative to cleaning products, but my friend George (a man who coined the phrase ‘Harp on soldier ant’) refutes this, contending that I may be thinking of things that go well with cream.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Meryl Streep…

Dear Meryl,

Have you ever, or would you ever consider, carpeting a bathroom?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Arsene Wenger…

Dear Arsene,

Are you a man enticed by cruising? I have often thought about leaving dry land and setting sail on a goliath liner but am unsure where to go. I thought you might have an idea?

My friend George (whose only experience on a boat was in 1986, on a coracle making course) has suggested a a three day tour of the North Sea starting from Hull, ending in Aberdeen and ignoring Norway. I however, have been considering a month long sojourn aboard a fishing trawler located somewhere off Galway (during which time I intend to read the entire back catalogue of Punch magazine).

Do you have any comments? Or alternatively, maybe you can recommend a good towel manufacturer?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Alan Carr…

Dear Alan,

Unconventional salt cellars have often captured my attention. Yesterday I saw one shaped like Trotsky’s ear, which I thought most esoteric. In the past I have also been in the company of salt cellars modelled on The Antonine Wall, a kirby grip and a pine nut. What is on your dinner table?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Ted Danson…

Dear Ted,

Ergonomically speaking, would you prefer a television remote control, or a digestive biscuit as a birthday gift?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Brad Pitt…

Dear Brad,

Have you been quoted as saying “No narwhal shall quell this wrath”? My friend George is convinced you have. Was it in the DVD extras for Se7en?

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Philip Schofield…

Dear Philip,

Are you aware of game known as Breakfast Tennis? As a man of the world, I’m sure you are but my friend George – a Breakfast Tennis virgin – thought it best I explain it to you.

Breakfast Tennis (as of course you know – why I listen to George I don’t know, he once told me that Magnum PI was a village near Tewkesbury) involves the personification of one of more breakfast foodstuffs with a view to them wagering battle in a manner more akin to Top Trumps than tennis.

For example, one might personify Ready Brek as Roy Castle, or a fried tomato as Harry Hill. I myself, personify a range of continental breakfi (I think that’s the plural) as ex Saturday morning children’s TV presenters who now have a prime time presence and a place in the nation’s hearts. You are a regular stand-in for yoghurt.

I thought you might like to know that just yesterday, while breakfasting with an old school friend in Andover (the name of a cafe, not the town) I destroyed his Pauline Quirke black pudding with your fine self (this time in baked bean form however).

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow

Dear Barbara Streisand…

Dear Barbara,

Have you ever owned, or do you ever intend to own, a stained glass window? If so you may be interested to know that egg yolk is not a great way to clean them. My friend George learnt this the hard way from a nun he met on a bus.

Yours,
—
Herbert Rumbelow