To whom this may concern,
For some reason, everyone seems to think I’m a fountain of knowledge. All my friends approach me first for advice when they find themselves in a sticky situation. The problem is I give TERRIBLE advice. And I’ve been giving it out all year (on a fortnightly basis). It doesn’t matter whether it’s Betty, Minty, Georgia, Margaret, Donna, Fiona, Tony, or Jenny I just can’t help myself. It’s an addiction. But actions always have consequences and I feel like I need to stop sticking my oar in and ruining my friends’ lives.
Fear not, we’re in the same boat and we’re here to help. When you think you’re the funniest person on the planet, it’s very easy to forget that you aren’t, and more importantly, that people will still be taking your advice very seriously. Before we get into your options, darling Sallie, we must make a few apologies. To anyone who’s quit uni to fend off their housemates packages. To anyone who’s unemployed because Daddy didn’t “slip them in through the fire exit”. To anyone who’s academic children reported them to Student Services for concerning behaviour. Please accept our sincerest, most unreserved apologies and we hope in time you can forgive us.
In the unlikely event, dearest readers, you find yourself in a similar situation as we have for the last year, may we humbly offer up two last solutions to your final dilemma. First up, acquire a pseudonym. The name isn’t enough. Create a character who is equal parts mysterious, aloof, and most importantly, as unhinged as you are. With any luck, you’ll find a partner you can embody this new being with. Hide all of your misdemeanours, bad jokes, and, yes, terrible advice behind this personality. Treat the exercise as a complete vanity project. Hope no one sues.
Perhaps more sane, however, is our second suggestion. Own up to your mistakes. Admit that your ego has taken hold, your bizarre fantasies have somehow made it to print (honourable mention to palatino lino-tie-me-up), and you should come clean (and get clean).
Maybe join an adviceaholic support group. Apparently they meet once a week on the first floor of the union. And Sallie, for the love of god, stop giving advice.
All our love,
Isabel and Amelia x
P.S. We’re really sorry, but we had fun (that’s all that matters).
Illustration: Kate Lau