Comp. 3458 invited you to submit a fictional character’s stepping-down letter. A new light was cast on various figures, from Joseph Houlihan’s Big Brother wanting more time with his family to Sylvia Fairley’s Miss Jean Brodie considering a non-ministerial position in the Scottish parliament: ‘I’m prepared to accept a modest salary and I shall let it be known that I own an adequate coffee machine, a good fountain pen that I’ve used for years and a reliable watch…’. Jeeves and Bond each made three appearances (nods to Nicholas Lee, John Moore, Ralph Goldswain and W.J. Webster). There were many very good entries, but the £25 vouchers go to those below.

My Dear Doctor – Following our recent contretemps I shall leave Rugby forthwith, simultaneously resigning from the position of School Bully, which I have filled happily, and I think effectively, for some years. You severely criticise my methods, yet are not our aims identical – to produce future rulers of the Empire? You offer them a philosophy to spout piously; I have been more practical. You dislike my practice of roasting fags over the fire; but what better preparation for the scorching temperatures of our tropical dominions? You resent whatyou term my ‘arrogant, sneering manner’, yet perhaps I deliberately assumed this as a model that scholars might learn to emulate, whether dealing with lesser breeds, with social inferiors, or with womenfolk. I like to think that in future life-quandaries, the question ‘What would Flashman do?’ will pop into their minds. They will know the answer. They will flourish.

George Simmers

Your Royal Highness

I have proudly served your Family, six days a week, since 1981. However, changes to my working conditions mean that I must now, regretfully, resign. The cruel imprisonment of Mrs Goggins during the Horizon scandal was bad enough: but I felt it was my solemn duty to continue serving our traumatised community during her incarceration. Road conditions too have markedly deteriorated (one incident involving my van and an unfilled crater led to unkind Greendale wags dubbing it ‘The Pathole’). Yet still I carried on. However, following an anonymous complaint to the local RSPCA, my beloved cat Jess has now been banned from accompanying me on my rounds, unless appropriately belted and/or muzzled.

Perhaps you have heard the old joke: ‘What would you call Postman Pat if he lost his job?’ With profound sadness, I must now confirm the answer.

Your loyal former servant, Pat

Richard Warren

To They Who Must Be Obeyed

I’ve recently been informed that my values no longer align with those of the organisation and the tools that have enabled me to perform a variety of roles over the years, from debonair misogynist to conflicted miserabilist, are being modified to capture the zeitgeist, vodka martinis replaced by kombucha mocktails, my Aston Martin exchanged for a Nissan Leaf, my position as Chief Smoothie ceded to that dour duo, Avocado and Kale. My personal assistants morphed into radical feminists some time ago and I now find myself the subject of sexual abuse allegations for having playfully smacked a woman on the bottom 60 years ago. To rehabilitate my reputation, it has been suggested that I transition from male to female. This has left me shaken not stirred, and I feel my retirement is long overdue. I am therefore applying for a Licence to Chill.

J.B.

Sue Pickard

Dear Mr Wooster

It is with some measure of regret that I tender my resignation after many years of assisting you in the vicissitudes of contemporary domestic and social life. Your Aunt Agatha’s recent reference tomy role as your ‘keeper’ presented me with an alternative view of our relationship and respective dependencies, not to our advantage, I fear. I trust I leave you suitably prepared for the variety of daily challenges encountered by any young gentleman in search of the best that London can offer. I have taken the precaution of re-arranging your wardrobe, grading your suits in order of brilliance, and I would counsel you in favour of the more neutral end of the spectrum, even for the Drones. You might recall that Hamlet favoured more sober tones.

I have also laid in a supply of tinned sardines for my successor so that you will have a continuity of appropriately supported service.

Your faithful servant, Jeeves.

D.A. Prince

Gentlemen, I hereby resign my senior position with Sodor Railways. After years of service, I find myself unable to take the relentless anthropomorphism of the engines anymore, although it will surely be agreed that I have borne the body-shaming (‘fat controller’ indeed!) with fortitude. I have always had a particular problem with the egregious Thomas, who persists in interpreting ‘useful’ as meaning insufferably smug and know-it-all, whilst causing mayhem, confusion and delay simply to provide narratives which are neither edifying nor entertaining. I was of course gratified to see that an enquiry has been opened into allegations of historical sexual misconduct on his part, made by Annie and Clarabel, most notably for incidences of non-consensual shunting.

I shall be taking up a post with LNER, where there are fewer trains, they talk less, and sometimes do not run at all, which will suit me admirably.

Yours etc. Topham Hatt KBE

Brian Murdoch

Dear Lady Catherine

Too long have I dwelt amidst the tents of Kedar; it behoves me to inform your ladyship, as proprietrix of the advowson of Hunsford, that I hereby resign the living thereof since (as I perhaps should have mentioned already) I have succeeded to the Longbourn estate, and the dignity of my father’s natal cognomen, on the most regrettable death of my esteemed cousin Bennet. My dear Charlotte and I wish to state that we will prefer even Mrs ClarenceBennet’s prattle (relieved, as it sometimes is, by lively intercourse with the dowager Lady Wickham) to your tedious, boastful and overbearing monologues; and that only a small talent for pleasing flattery (on which I pique myself) has prevented me from advising you previously, madam, that you are a swellhead, a bore and a bully – and you cheat at cards!

Yours sincerely (at last),

W. Collins Bennet

Frank Upton

No. 3461: Cringe benefits

You are invited to submit toe-curling analogies (up to five). Please email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by midday on 29 July.