This is Malta. If you call someone an imbecile, or a clown, or a bastard, or a thieving rogue they can sue you for libel. I have no faith in our law courts, and I can’t afford a defence lawyer.

Besides, while I would never bite the hand that feeds me, there are some hands I’d wish to be fed by that have been the target of my vitriol – their fault, not mine. I know things the average public doesn’t, and there is no other forum for criticism, which drives me up the wall. The last thing I need is to be put on everybody’ black list.

I’ve no problem telling you who I am. I’ll just have to trust your professional integrity. For my sake, not yours. I’ve no wish to be imprisoned for libel.

OK, a future wife and child then. When I can afford them.

[Daphne – Imprisonment? Why – what were you thinking of saying about the cut of Joseph’s trousers?]

Nice try Baxxter.

Against payment, of course. I’ve got a wife and child to support, and a little coup d’état in Hong Kong to fund, right?

[Daphne – But then you’ll have to tell me who you are. Oh, and with that wife and child business you’re just wiped out half your fan base.]

You got the dishes wrong. And I no longer read. Attention span’s not what it used to be.

It’s tumour.

It`s because he is invisible, that makes him more attractive.

He has a great sense of humour and we are free to imagine what he looks like.

No way. I imagine Baxxter to be single, living alone, early 40s, not handsome (sorry Baxx) but very attractive in the kind of way only a woman can understand.

Intelligent, great sense of humour (British?) and possibly an introvert, unless he’s writing. How many points have I scored?

Since this is becoming a dating site, if you’re the Miss O’Brien from Downton Abbey, I’d really like to meet you over a coffee.

Sincerely,

Alfred.