Hello Ted, my friend Dave earns a living as a professional Sienna Miller lookalike and was wondering if you'd care to join him as Lawalike on a few corporate gigs he has coming up. As it was an alleged matter of impersonation* that landed me in front of the beak this morning, my solicitor advises me I should decline your mate Dave's offer. PGC, exactly. No Panama. I am not, currently, an itinerant ice cream salesman. Anette, I retain an oz or two of Alfred Dunhill's finest - a larger share of which was given to me by my late pa when he departed for the night train to Southampton Docks one night. "Keep this, Theodore old son," he said, "and remember, if you can smell it when you're wearing it, you're wearing too much". He kissed my protruding cheekbones and left, arse first, through the cloakroom window. * I walked from this one, by the way, as my lady accuser couldn't be sure in the cold light of day if I had been the same cove to whom she opened the door last summer, and from whom she mistakenly bought insurance (cash money, buy now while the offer lasts) for her five pet cats. In my opinion, she met Freddy the Fedora, who works the South Norwood through Addington end of the Tiddles in Peril market.