Problem page

Jeffrey Bernard

There's nothing worse than an unshared heartache. No matter how difficult or how trivial our problems seem, all of them are made easier when they are shared. If you have an anxiety which you hesitate to speak to your friends or family about, please write. I shall be happy to help you.

'Until a month ago, I was having an affair with a journalist who told me that he wrote a column for the Spectator and the Daily Express. Our love-making was rhapsodical and I thought we were meant for each other. Unfortunately, I noticed, after a few weeks, that he seemed to be more concerned about drinking, himself and the 2.30 than me. Is this unusual or should I expect this sort of behaviour from all the men in the street of ink ?Beryl.'

Well, they're a funny lot in Fleet Street. I suspect that you're taking it too hard though. Has it occurred to you that he may have wanted to unwind after hectic hours of deadlines and conferences ? I suggest you try again and give him one more chance. After all, he is probably trying to tell you that he loves you in his strange way.

'I have been having an affair with a journalist who visits me after he has fulfilled his deadlines and been to his conferences. You probably think that I'm old-fashioned, but

do like a man to be coherent when I'm serving him veal chops avec sauce remoulade. I always wear a negligee when I greet him at the door of my Earls Court flat, but his interest in me is summed up by his perpetual question, "What's the Test score from India?" Should I stay with a man like this ?Claire.'

Yes. The alternative could be a journalist who might ask you whether Bristol City has beaten Fulham and no one wants to know things like that except for Alan Watkins. Why don't you try wearing jeans and cooking ordinary food?

'I once pretended that I was in love with a journalist and I must admit now that I used him cruelly. Subconsciously I've blotted him out of my mind, but I think his name was Jeff. I remember that he once held a door open for me but that he offered me very little more. I've since struck up a relationship with a moronic film producer who does everything I tell him to. Have I done the right thing?Julietf

Definitely. You are obviously a person who wants your own way whatever the cost to logic, civilisation, Ealing Broadway or wherever it is you live. You know it makes sense. I don't have to remind you that Rudyard Kipling once wrote, 'If you can't dominate a geezer, then get one wot you can.' It may be of some comfort to you to know that another fifty million women are in your same predicament.

'Sorry to trouble you again. About the journalist I wrote to you about. He keeps phoning me in the middle of the night and pretending to be a whisky salesman who's got a wrong number, or a heavy breather, While I'm fully aware that I've broken his heart, surely the fact that I'm a woman makes that my business. Is this night-time grovelling on the telephone usual? My present boy friend, a tame copy writer, never indulges in it. Juliet.'

Yes, I'm afraid the midnight telephone call of whining self-pity is very common practice with those involved in the communications business. Change Your number or get him to change his.

'I hope you can help me. I am a twenty-sixyear-old secretary, fully qualified, although I am temporarily in the typing pool at Private Eye. Last week 1 went to a publisher's cocktail party for the launching of a new sentence by Jilly Cooper where I got locked in the lavatory with a strange man. He had lovely soft dark and fairly long hair, spoke with a north country accent and wore a velvet jacket. He made an incredible suggestion and implied that if I complied with his mad desires then he would get me on a television programme. Apart from the fact that I don't know who he is, I don't know whether I should see him again or not. Amanda.'

This is a tricky one. The man in question was and is, indubitably, Melvyn Bragg. Whether you should see him again is really a question of just how mature you are. He has been resisted, in the past, by some fairly hard nuts like Andrea Newman and Gayle Hunnicut, but very young girls like Claire Tomalip and Ivy Compton-Burnett have been as putty in his hands. I should steer clear of this one unless you•are looking for adventure, romance, passion, a holiday for two on Derwentwater or a holiday for six at the Television Centre, White City.

'More than anything in the world I would like to meet Clive James, Philip HopeWallace and Bernard Levin. Please tell me where I would be most likely to bump into these people. Fred.'

In the buffet car of the CambridgeLondon train on Friday mornings, in any buffet car on the Bakerloo line, in the buffet car of the trans-Siberian railway train from Monday-Saturday.

'I am eighteen and, so my friends tell me, a very pretty girl. My parents say I have all the advantages and that one day I will marry the man of my dreams. My problem

though is that I don't want any part of it. Ever since the Sex Discrimination Act came to be passed I have wanted, more than anything, to be a man. Angela.'

You could come up against a lot of trouble here. I know exactly what you mean though and I would very much like to be a plucky little woman. I think the easiest course for you is not to bite off more than you can chew to begin with. Why don't you start by being an incredibly sensitive homosexual? A lot of my friends have done this and they enjoy the best of both worlds. If you can't make the transition, then please contact me again.

'I have recently become involved with a married woman. She is thirty years old and an absolute knockout to look at. Unfortunately, she is incredibly boring. Be that as it may, I simply can't leave her alone. Have you any suggest ions? Geoffrey.'

Well, it's the old, old story, isn't it ? Why did you marry her in the first place ? Was she pregnant or were you drunk ? You haven't really given me enough information to work on. From what I can gather I should say that if you stick with it you might, in time, become good friends.

'I am on the verge of becoming a school leaver and am very keen to take up journalism. What worries me is the fact that I don't know what magazine or paper to try for a job on. Have you any suggestions? Tina.'

It really depends on what you want to do in your working hours. If you like making lots of free and personal telephone calls and talking shop amongst extremely unhapPY people all pretending to keep their ends uP, then I should try for one of the big national newspapers. On the other hand, if you like talking esoteric rubbish, going to bed with people with degrees and crying into glasses of dry white wine late at night, then should try one of the weekly literary and political magazines. Of course, you may be really serious about wanting to be a journalist in which case I would advise you Io apply to a trade paper.

'I like girls very much.'

Yes, I know how awful this must be for you. I am assuming that you are a man although you have omitted to sign your letter, but in any case I am aware of just how painful this can be. Have you thought of seeing a social worker, psychiatrist or local crime prevention officer ? Oddly enough I too used to like girls very much, but now I hate them. Hate them, d'you hear me? Hate them. Sorry about that, I forgot myself for a moment. What was I saying? Oh yes. I used to like girls very much too and then I met this girl from Ruislip. MY God, the rotten ... Jesus ... if ever. .. • Yes' I'll have another scotch . . . no a large one you bloody fool. Sorry. Yes, now as fo71. your problem. Why come whining to me • Why pick on me? Couldn't you have written to some other bloody Problem Page instead of upsetting me ? For God's sake leave me alone.