Dear Lady Thatcher, she writes, may I suggest to Your Eminence, a surefire cure for depression? It's an old Welsh remedy using leeks and sheep's offal. It makes a really thick stew with lots of flavour, lots of grease, and lots of unidentifiable chewy bits in it. The trick is, you feel so ill after eating it that you forget all about being depressed.
PS I saw your son Carol on TV the other night. He looks very girly to me. I do hope he's not one of those, you know, homophones. Still, as my friend Mrs Cohen used to say, "Oedipus shmoedipus, as long as he loves his mother...."
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, retd