Iff aah should stayyyy, I would only be in your wayyyy … Annnd Iiiiee will always loove youuuu, yooo oooh 

Oh, excuse me. Since considering your problem, Auntie’s had this profoundly crap song on a 24-hour brain loop. But it’s a small sacrifice if she can find the answer for world peace. And like all the best ideas, from bio-degradeable bin liners to screw-top wine, the answer to your question is quite simple. In two words: Whitney Houston.  

No, Auntie hasn’t been at the green stuff, she’s leaving that to ‘chronic pothead’ Osama Bin Laden, who’s nothing but a slushy puppy for songbird Whitney. And that’s where Auntie’s brilliant plan for world peace comes in.
In an autobiography by Kola Boof, a former ‘lover’ of Osama Bin Laden, she says that ‘he told me Whitney was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen … although he claimed music was evil … ‘

But like all the great unfulfilled love stories from Lancelot and Guinevere to Casablanca, Brief Encounter and, er, Princess Fiona and Shrek, it just hasn’t got off the ground. You know how it is, ‘stuff’ just gets in the way. In Whitney’s case that’s stuff in her crack pipe, while Osama’s an obsessive careerist. Though in between the occasional Al Qaeda promo, he still managed to add clippings from Star magazine and Hello! to his Whitney scrapbook.

So, Whitney, the future of the world is in your hands. ‘Seize that one moment in time and make it shine’ – only you have the power to get Obama and Osama together, to smoke the [crack] pipe of peace.

Auntie can’t quite believe it’s just down to the rozzers being, well, a bit rubbish at counting (although they do run out of fingers after reaching ten). Rather, their formula seems to depend on whether it’s constable Dave’s granny protesting against asylum seekers, in which case each two square feet of road space counts for one granny (plus one for the pot), or some smelly black-bloc hoodie, who is deemed to take up half of Parliament Square single handed. Not forgetting to subtract 200 protesters for every eyeball of George Galloway or Lindsey German (triple subtraction bonus if caught snogging).
On the other hand, recently a climate camp activist claimed the police no longer underestimate the numbers on protests but over-egg the figures to justify their budgets. This got Auntie thinking about a new win-win recession-busting strategy.

The police should deploy teams of crowd counters at demos across the UK. This would make a dent in the unemployment figures for all those city bankers (and teach them how to do basic arithmetic). And protesting would become a Keynesian civic duty – the key to economic revival. Who could possibly object to such a job-creation scheme?

Auntie admits getting quite swept away by the tide of hope on election night but it was more a case of anyone but Bush (or McCain and Palin) and I’ll open the champagne. She quickly sobered up, though, after few hours broken sleep and nightmares in which Barack Obama was bopping with Margaret Thatcher, dressed as St Francis of Assisi, to the sound of ‘Things can only get better’.

And she too remembers we’ve been here before and 11 years on nowt much has got better and much has got worse. In Auntie’s experience, politicians that promise to save the world usually disappoint.

Suddenly, it seems healthy cynicism is out of fashion. But the devil’s always worn Prada and so do the most Machiavellian and seductive of the spin doctors. The Obama publicity machine has more oil on it than the Exxon Valdez and is in much better nick than the toxic tanker. But the result could be just as devastating – if nothing else, in crushing all this new found hope and optimism.

Auntie won’t state the bleeding obvious and say Obama is no socialist but … well, he isn’t. The more desperate you are for a cure the more the snake oil sounds like a good bet but on the more positive side, it’s up to us to make sure Obama’s fine words translate into fine actions.

Email your questions to: Subcomandauntie@gmail.com

Sorry, I didn’t see you standing there.

Auntie isn’t actually as old as she looks: she just takes a bad picture. However, she intends to age disgracefully and recommends you do the same.

Many of Auntie’s older sisters complain about these ‘invisible moments’ but Auntie thinks there are advantages. After all, if no one can see you then you can say and do whatever you want. It’s time to have some fun while you fight ageism. Start by serving yourself when they don’t see you in shops and pubs – although for some reason the invisibility spell seems to wear off when you start reaching over the counter.

Subvert all expectations: sneak through security, pop up in front of the queue – no one’s going to tell their grandma to get back in line, and as you’re invisible, just ignore them if they do. Return those Saga circulars and read Red Pepper instead. And don’t forget that as the baby boomer marketeers approach retirement you can guarantee that ageing will suddenly become cool.
Finally, always remember you have the advantage – you’ve been young but the young have never been old.

Email your questions to: Subcomandauntie@gmail.com

Unless you’ve pawned her iPod to pay for crack, the ‘Do as I say, not as I do’ approach invariably backfires, and if you decide on full disclosure she’ll probably think ‘Mum’s hardly Peter Doherty and gets through the day without being arrested, so drugs can’t be all bad.’ There’s a fine line between no-holds-barred confession and lying, but Auntie has some prepared scripts that might help you out.

There’s the Hazel Blears ‘I had one or two puffs but it didn’t work’ approach; Jacqui Smith’s ‘I am not proud about it, I did the wrong thing’; Oliver Letwin’s ‘I was tricked into it by friends who put dope in my pipe’; or even the George Bush manoeuvre: ‘When I was young and irresponsible I was young and irresponsible.’

Alternatively, you could contextualise drug use with larger social issues, such as the brutal trade involved in cocaine or the CIA’s role in funnelling drug money into weapons and war. Auntie also knows a couple of brain-addled ex-friends who would be happy to talk gibberish to your daughter for a week in exchange for a few wraps of coke – enough to put anyone off drugs for life.

Email your questions to: Subcomandauntie[at]gmail.com

At one point Auntie even flirted with the extreme (chickenless) wing of the animal rights movement. Or maybe that should be Auntie just flirted – but that’s another story. Anyway, she gave up years ago bothering about what anyone thought of her food choices.

But as she sees this has really got your goat, Auntie advises you to go on the attack. After all, they are just projecting their own guilt onto you. So get yourself some pub ammo and numb them into submission with facts about why meat is murdering the planet.

Seventy per cent of former forests in the Amazon have been turned over for animal grazing. The UK gives livestock enough food to feed 250 million people. Twenty vegetarians can live off the land requirements of one meat eater. Farmed animals rank second in causing global warming. And if that’s not enough, meat eaters’ poo smells awful.

If all else fails, start making mooing noises and drooling from the mouth; the meat eaters could be doing it for real in
a few years time.

Email your questions to: Subcomandauntie@gmail.com

Does money have a sense of history or shame or is it just a tangible commodity? Not a dilemma that appears to tweak the conscience of the Labour Party or many other political parties. It’s admirable that you might want to give it all away but in these days of pitiful pensions and financial insecurity you may live to regret it.

Auntie thinks that as the old man isn’t yet brown bread you have a bit of time to think about it, but her advice would be to first work out how much you need to be secure for the rest of you life and then invest this in ethical shares or in a savings account with a bank like Triodos. You could then pay of tithe of your father’s ill-gotten gains to the charitable or political causes of your choice

If what’s left after this is at least £250,000 and you can commit to donating at least £3,000 a year, then why not join the Network for Social Change? This network of the ethical rich funds non-charitable projects working for social and ecological change. As a member you would be involved in assessing, selecting and recommending projects for funding, so it’s not a passive process and may suit your politics and philosophy.

And of course, Red Pepper would appreciate a bit of help too, while Auntie will settle for a pie and a pint (or six).

Email your questions to: Subcomandauntie@gmail.com

Auntie is by no means a domestic goddess, as her friends and former partners will testify; she’s quite happy living with a little chaos and disorder. Auntie’s theory is the messier a mind the more the need for order around you. Auntie’s mind is a clutter-freezone.

Over the years, Auntie has employed the odd domestic worker; housekeeping is an underrated and valuable skill she does not possess. She has also been involved in campaigns for the rights of migrant domestic workers, such as with Kalayaan www.kalayaan.org.uk.

A person making a living from cleaning is a domestic worker, an equal
providing a service, not an indentured servant to exploit. Lead by example:
ensure terms and conditions include a decent wage, paid holidays and sick leave. Visit the T&G website www.tgwu.org.uk for details. Make sure your friends are clear on what they expect, draw up a contract of employment and agree a list of tasks beforehand with your prospective employee. Be respectful and appreciative- remember it’s taking the piss to expect him or her to clean up your dirty knickers and used condoms. To salve your conscience further, do a quick clean-up beforehand.

As for Auntie, ideally she is seeking a submissive man who will pay her to let
him do the housework. Suitably respectful letters of application, with two references, may be sent to Subcomandauntie[@]gmail.com

Auntie has always caught the whiff of the zeitgeist, toyed with it and moved on before the party starts – Stalkbook is no exception. Marshall McLuhan said ‘Publication is a self-invasion of privacy’ – it’s our ultimate freedom, so why give it away? When your house gets burgled because you announced in detail your upcoming holiday, don’t be surprised if the insurance company thinks you’re an idiot – Auntie thinks the same.

You need a reality check when you suffer anxiety because you’ve fewer
Facebook ‘friends’ than that loser Chloe from primary school, and compete in the friendship race on the basis that if they are alive and on the same planet then they all count the same. For the record, ‘friend’ doesn’t mean the trainer at the gym you once went to five years ago.

Auntie quickly tired of corresponding with people she spent a lifetime avoiding (and Andrew in Facebook’s London network, Auntie is not a ‘naughty schoolgirl’, you sleazy perve). There’s a reason when the ‘friend’ you haven’t thought about in years writes ‘Let’s meet up soon’ why it’s best it doesn’t happen. And hell, what’s this ‘meeting up’ business anyway – why bother when Facebook is open 24/7 and you can avoid the buses. Your life is not qualitatively improved by hourly updates on Matt from Birmingham’s shoe fetish; and just because Kath in Liverpool likes curries too it doesn’t mean she’s your soulmate. Take a deep breath and kill your page. We have a world to win, barricades to storm, dancing to be done, pubs to crawl and people to snog. It’s better than a virtual ‘poke’ any day.

It can certainly be hard to find love on the left – screaming your lungs out about the evils of Occupation is rarely the most attractive of mating calls. Pulling at political meetings can be a deeply depressing experience too, unless you want to attract self-important middle-agers whose idea of romance is plotting for the revolution. With such unpromising options at your disposal, there are worse options than online dating. Sure, it can seem like the commodification of intimacy, but getting too worked up about shopping for dates isn’t going to help you find one.

If you really can’t face that, there are some other options. Local and academic libraries can be a hotbed of horny hacks. Park yourself behind a copy of Marx’s Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts and wait for your Engels to show up.

If that doesn’t strike you as a likely prospect, you could try flirtatiously Facebooking old friends – as long as lurking exes don’t inadvertently scupper your chances. Or you could take a hands on approach to international solidarity and go globetrotting for eligible Trots.

If that doesn’t yield an eligible partner, you might want to embrace a more fundamental criticism of your desire for coupledom. As a political lesbian, I used to rail against ‘the inturned emotional exclusiveness of the couple, which students the partners so they can no longer operate at all as independent beings in society’. Nowadays, though, I’ve embraced Anthony Crosland’s social democratic credo that ‘abstinence is not a good foundation for socialism’. He advocated ‘more, not less spooning in the Parks of Recreation and Rest’. For £6 a month, plus a profile that promises ‘socialist seeks similar for sex, sauciness and spooning’, I’m doing my bit for the cause.

Further advice and discussion on this subject can be found on the new Red Pepper forums under the hugely popular ‘Sex and socialism‘ thread.