Have you ever faced a Hobson's choice about whether to go for a Pyrrhic victory while casting a Nelsonian eye over your Achilles' heel, or letting out a can of worms from your Pandora's box during a storm in a teacup with the assistance of Atilla the Hun? If so, then stop being hydra-headed, cross the Rubicon, and write to Auntie Agnes and pour out your agony. She will be only too happy to answer them by hook, or by crook. Probably the latter.

Our first question today comes from a housewife in Sorakhuttepati who says: "For the past two decades, I have endured a househusband who snores. Yes, after all these years, I have finally realised that I have all along been married to a stereophonic Greater Himalayan Sloth Bear. He even looks like one. I have tried stuffing Q-tips into his beak, clipping his snout with a clothespin, but to no avail. Short of hiring an assassin, is there anything that I can do to muzzle my reverberating better half?
Yours in anticipation, Gemma."

Aunty Agnes: The Taiwanese have come up with the ingenious Silent Night TM proboscis silencer that is guaranteed to bring down the nocturnal decibel level in your bedroom. (Blurb: "Turn your husband's roar into a purr, or your money back.") It is quite a handy contraption that looks rather like a World War I gas mask. You can assist your husband in putting it on every night before he goes to bed, adjust the volume setting to "Low", and you can simply turn over and sleep the sleep of the just. With a small on-board computer that analyses the wave-length of a particular snore (no two snores are alike) the mask transmits anti-noise to cancel out your husband's nasal saxophone.

Next we have a question from Battisputali: "After getting hooked up to cable TV, I have fallen head over heels in love with the BBC's Richard Quest. Is it realistic for me to pursue this relationship, or is it a lost cause? How do I let him know that I care for him deeply? Are there any historical records of affairs of this type coming to a mutually satisfactory conclusion? Yours lovingly, Nina."

Aunty Agnes: We have it on good authority that Mr Quest is already married. Not only that, he has also quit the BBC and defected to CNN's Money Programme. I'd suggest you switch to watching CNN for a while and let this relationship grow on you and see how you both feel about it after a while. Logistically, it may be easier to fall in love with someone from Nepal Television. There are quite a few hunks in the daily Farming Programme.

The next question comes from a certain GP Koirala in Baluwatar: "Dear Aunty Agnes, I have been meaning to write to you, but something or other keeps coming up. I am having difficulty commuting to and from Singha Darbar, do you have any suggestions? Yours frantically."

Aunty Agnes: I have checked with some constitutional experts and it seems you have a range of options: a) get one of those masks with dark glasses, nose and moustache and walk to work incognito pretending to be from the Groucho faction of the Marxist-Leninists, b) go underground by digging a tunnel from Baluwatar to Singha Darbar c) Just buy a Silent Night TM Proboscis Silencer and sleep at home.