Sit, Stay, Give Paw!

A Lady writes:

Dear G&G,
My gentleman friend has an unfortunate habit of making teensy social errors. I believe his assertions that he is well-meaning, but an idiot.

Is it socially acceptable to deal with this well-meaning idiocy by chaining him to the wall so he has less range within which to cause me distress? Or is there some other method you would suggest? I’m very fond of him, so do not wish to see him harmed, but if he keeps on as he’s going I may well harm him myself.

~Besotted But Annoyed

My dearest Madame,

It seems an unfortunate Law of Nature that, just as there are dreadfully clever and socially well-adjusted people in the world, there are also dolts, as well as those who are simply oblivious to the needs and welfare of those around them. I often think that such persons ought to be taken at once into custody and remanded into some sort of Etiquette Training Camp, where they might be instructed in the social niceties, with the ultimate goal being that no one would ever again have to suffer the sort of indignities you appear to have suffered, according to your charming letter.

But, until such an Institution is raised, by sheer dint of public hue and cry, we must muddle through as best we can. You say that your gentleman friend is “well-meaning, but an idiot” in which case I wonder whether education can possibly help him. My aide, Lt. Casselle, is similarly stupid when it comes to social mores; as a result, I make it a policy never to take him anywhere if I can avoid it. A person who is stupid in social situations can be likened—if you will permit me the indelicate metaphor—to a dung bomb: likely to go off at any time without warning, with the result being a foul-smelling mess for anyone within range.

I fear that your friend’s unfortunately stupid behaviour can only be curtailed by constant vigilance, Madame, on your part: you must check him, and check him hard when he errs; this is the only way in which he can be made aware of his faux pas. If you are entertaining guests in your domicile and he messes, then you must immediately seize him by the collar and shake him, as one would shake a recalcitrant puppy; at the same time, declaim loudly, “BAD BOY! BAAAAAAAAD BOY!” If your guests look askance at this display, merely explain that you are training him, and that such correction does not hurt him; rather, it teaches him to recognise his errors on his own. In time, he may come to realise that indiscriminate behaviour is wrong, that chatting up tarts is inappropriate, and that social diseases, despite what he may think, do walk amongst us on two legs! (To that end, I have some excellent brochures in my office, detailing the ravages of venereal disease. These can be yours for the price of a self-addressed, stamped envelope; send same to me in care of the Palais de Justice, Casablanca.)

It is important to remember, Madame, that you reward your gentleman friend for his good behaviour, when and if it occurs. I find it helpful to keep a small packet of biscuits in my desk drawer, for those rare times when Casselle rises above his native stupidity and does something useful. These can be had from your local grocer for only a few francs, and I find a biggish box lasts me for rather a long time!

I trust, Madame, that these suggestions will be useful to you. When in doubt, I find a rolled-up newspaper, whacked hard on the floor very near his nose, will immediately put a stop to embarrassing behaviour, should other methods of correction fail.

Tout a toi,

Louis