Agony Aunt

Dear Agony Aunt

My fiancé's mother is so concerned that we might be scrimping on our wedding she has started arranging things herself. So far she has booked and paid for lots of hideous flowers, some pointless chair covers and the world's worst photographer. How can we stop this one-woman wedding planner before she completely takes over our big day?

Bride Before a Fall

Dear Bride Before a Fall

What an ungrateful wretch you are. Here's this poor woman, helping you out of the goodness of her heart – and her own pocket – with the simple desire to make your special day memorable, and all you can do is complain. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. If you can't get your finger out and make the arrangements yourself, then you can hardly blame her for doing it for you.

Having said all that, I can understand your desire to maintain a certain amount of control over your nuptials. So from here on, you must lay down some ground rules – but the person to lay them down is your dearly beloved fiancé. Let him give his mother a list of three or four things she can arrange, with strict instructions as to how the tasks are to be carried out. If she wishes to pay for them, so be it, but you should still offer. As for the world's worst photographer, it looks as though you're stuck with him. Get a friend to take some decent snaps just in case.

Dear Agony Aunt

As a strong, independent man, most of the time I'm happy to be single. But in summer I miss the presence of a handsome lady to rub sunscreen into my back and share the long, sunny evenings. Do you have any advice on how I could drum up some summer romance?

On the Prowl

Dear On the Prowl

I do believe it was in the summer that the Agony Uncle and I first clapped eyes on each other; he looked quite the young stud in his canvas sunhat and socks-and-sandals combo. Come to think of it, perhaps his dilated pupils and excessive sweating were less to do with his attraction to me and more to do with the fact that he had sunstroke. Still, July always brings back happy memories.

Back to your dilemma, you may not be aware but the way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. So I suggest you take to hanging around the ice-cream stalls that will be springing up everywhere over the next couple of months. Even better, get a part-time job on one of them. I guarantee that an extra scoop of raspberry ripple on a girl's 99 will have her heart melting.

Dear Agony Aunt

I'm a tad overweight – okay, about four stones – and am dreading my forthcoming holiday. Booking two seats on the plane would be the most comfortable option for all concerned, but I can't afford that. What are my alternatives?

Excess Baggage

Dear Excess Baggage,

Isn't it a pity that you've let yourself go. I sympathise, but having been positioned next to more than one passenger of excessive girth on a long-haul flight I'm afraid I can't condone this kind of situation.

Assuming that your weight is not the result of an untreatable medical condition, and since I imagine it's now too late to shed the excess pounds (though you might want to think about that for next year), my advice is to contact the airline as soon as possible. Hopefully you will be able to reserve a seat at the front of the plane or at an emergency exit, which should take care of the leg-room at least. And don't forget to wear your Spanx – not only should they hold the blubber in, but they can also double as a giant DVT sock.

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