From Julian Fellowes

Q. Whenever anyone asks me how to get a project off the ground, I say that getting a film made is pretty hard. So often the response is: ‘But you did it!’ The argument is a tough one to refute, as the implication is that clearly I myself am not possessed of any ability or talent, and so I back away, apologetic and, to be honest, slightly humiliated. What would you suggest?

A. Englishmen like yourself have been bred to be self-deprecating – but there’s no need to overdo it. You might reply: ‘Yes, you’re quite right – even I managed it. And if you keep on persevering you’ll find that… [theatrical pause] eventually water finds its own level.’ Then say nothing while they ponder on your words.

From Julia Hartley-Brewer

Q. Some people have bad hair days, but I have a bad hair life. This wasn’t really a problem for the many years I worked as a radio presenter. Indeed, the bulky headphones were something of a boon. Occasional telly appearances always prompted the usual comments about me not having the thick locks apparently required for the public. But now I host a TV show every morning, more people than ever are getting cross about my hair. Short of wearing a wig, I’m not sure what I can do about it. Can you offer any suggestions?

A. The trick to enjoying a public profile is to let your ‘people’ manage your social media. Never look yourself. Treating the two imposters just the same is a better way of sustaining morale. However, as a professional commentator, Julia, you do need to engage with online debate. Put in place a filtering system which diverts the ad feminem comments. A self-identifying intern can courteously acknowledge these. In this way you can frustrate your would-be underminers.

From Jonathan Dimbleby

Q. I have always told myself not to read advice columns as they take up too much time and will make no difference to my life. Yet I cannot resist them. Can you tell me how I might cure this addiction and thereby become the first to make a difference to my life?

A. It’s unclear if you feel this hobby is wrong because you are reading the problems to revel in other people’s misfortune – or out of a Dickensian interest in humanity. Either way, why not monetise the addiction by becoming the public face of a speed-reading course? You will then learn how to consume ‘self-indulgent’ print at speed at the same time as topping up your income.

From Barbara Amiel

Q. Infuriatingly, I cannot drink. I am not a member of any temperance society but just get very sick with alcohol. This means the curse of going through life sober and makes many a dinner party a nightmare, not to mention my intolerance of Conrad’s joy in a glass of wine, which turns him very jolly as I remain irritatingly glum. My only solution is to use some other mind-altering substance, which worked when I was young. Now all I can tolerate is codeine, which makes me temporarily numb to embarrassment but is hardly a solution. What should I do?

A. The antihistamine Piriton also functions as a mood-changer and, incidentally, is especially useful for suppressing lust when the impulse would be inappropriate. However, the primary problem with teetotalism is that drinkers resent your non-participation. Arrive at events with a few 30ml bottles of Jukes Cordialities. These taste enough like wine to trick your subcortex into relaxing accordingly.

From Maureen Lipman

Q. I find I can’t resist getting the conversation going in a black cab about the state of London roads, the length of time it takes traffic lights to change, the 22,000 Uber drivers parked with their engines on, the last three idiot mayors, the hideous road humps. When we get to the destination both the driver and I are exhausted and apoplectic. How can I learn to talk about the weather?

A. As Sir Winston Churchill noted: ‘Attitude is a little thing that makes a big difference.’ Take the attitude that black cabbies are a national treasure – an endangered species – who deserve to be heard out as they vent their spleen. See yourself as allowing them to have a little free therapy session.

From Richard Madeley

Q. For many years people have confused me with the celebrated actor Nigel Havers, usually when I am shopping, filling my car with petrol, etc. I don’t like disappointing anyone so have become practised at extemporising anecdotes about filming Chariots of Fire, Downton Abbey or Empire of the Sun. I can even produce a fair facsimile of Havers’s signature for autographs. But I’ve grown tired of this charade. How do I respectfully correct people? Please advise.

A. Put the confused at their ease by saying pleasantly: ‘You’re the second person to mistake me for Nigel Havers today! Don’t worry, I’m used to it.’ If they press for your identity on the grounds that they know your face, you can save time by saying: ‘Oh no – I think it’s just the Nigel Havers effect!’

From Stanley Johnson

Q. When a presenter on morning radio signs off with a jaunty ‘That’s all from Martha and I’, should I (a) ignore it, (b) throw toast or (c) write to the Secretary of State for Education urging him/her to bring back compulsory grammar?

A. Correct grammar is now seen as elitist in some circles so there is nothing you can do except turn the nuisance to your advantage and see if you can up the seconds that you can balance on one leg with your eyes shut each time it happens.

From Sasha Swire

Q. My new book is based on a walk along the South West Coast Path. The problem is that in my not uncontroversial political diaries, there is an account of a former PM asking me not to walk ahead of him on this same path, as the scent I was wearing affected his pheromones and he wanted to push me into the bushes and ‘give me one’. This was said in jest, in the hearing of his wife, my husband and a bevy of bodyguards, but repeating it in my diary did cause considerable humiliation when published. How can I stop mischievous reviewers from excavating this embarrassing connection?

A. Why bother, when this will be a factor that will help to sell your next book?

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