You saucy wee lassie. What would make YOUR Valentine’s dream come true?
Love GB, Westminster
I’ve learned not to expect much. But small gestures, if heartfelt, can mean a lot.
For instance, I would love to receive, as a token of affection, a hand-made card (crafted from an old porridge box and some re-used tartan florists ribbon). Inside it reads:
“Roses are red
Violets are blue
I’ll drop the ID cards
Cos I love you.
My paltry roast meals used to be the nation’s favourite. Now, thanks to a disease outbreak, my brand has become a bit of a turkey. What should I do to stop consumers giving me the bird? I’ve heard Tesco is rebranding itself as the ‘Fresh and Easy Neighbourhood Market’ for its States-side lauch … have you got a bootiful new name for me?
BM, East Anglia
From eponymous to synonymous and now the most notorious of turkey brands. How far your name has brought you. Change it if you must, but it’s the strap line that irks. You can hardly refer to Bootiful Norfolk Turkeys now we know they come from ugly factories in Hungary and Suffolk.
Don’t look to Tesco for inspiration. Fresh and Easy my suspender belt! Food Miles and Job loss, more like. Oh the irony.
You need a more straightforward approach, reflecting the true nature of your business to re-build trust in your windowless, bio-controlled, overcrowded turkey sheds.
You might have hit on something with paltry. I can well imagine you crammed in an air-less hangar, sporting white coat, mask and wellies, looking straight to camera imploring: “Try my paltry poultry products packed full wi’ gizzards, beaks ‘n’ mangled feet – it’s neeeeeearly meat and mighty cheap.”
I expect you could re-invigorate the market with the predictable: Turkey Swindlers – all bone and no bird.
For the ultimate in paltry try Jordan Joints – 100% water enhanced turkey breasts – “they’re hoooooge!”
I have a confession. I’m addicted to gambling! I love it. I’m even thinking of remortgaging my house (again) to fund my habit. I can’t control myself! And once this lovely casino with all its flashing lights opens in Manchester I’m afraid I won’t be able to contain myself. Where will it all end?
Have you forgotten your experience as a social worker or your time with mental health charity Mind? Oh TJ, I fear it’s a 2:1 safe bet you’ve been seduced by the lure of regeneration jackpots and a full flush of employment.
As it happens, I’m not one to gamble on the future like that. But I’ve glanced into the scrying bowl and this is what I see….
You are alone in a damp B&B in a less than salubrious northern seaside town where digs are cheap: Blackpool maybe.
Homeless, penniless, friendless. Your fortune, the war, the environment, your career, all gambled and lost on the American Dream.
I see you shuffling along a once golden mile, now a storm tattered boarded up ghost town. One last light bulb falters and falls from disintegrating cables. Tumbleweeds bowl along rusting tramlines. I hear you mutter: “Today will be better. Today I will win.”
If you want Marina’s advice you can email her by clicking here