Dear Mr Toyoda Since I know you chaps at Toyota HQ don't like waste, I will cut to the chase. You need me for your next New Zealand advertising campaign.
You will possibly be too polite to tell me you have never heard of me, Akio, but I'll take that as read. That is part of my appeal.
Think mumsy, mediocre, worthy but dull. That's the audience which will identify with me.
What you need to know is that my late husband was born in the same year as Prince Charles, he played rugby and had the scars to show it (and possibly was once in a team coached by Laurie Mains), I have been known to ride horses, and at least one of my sons has been sidelined from sporting events because of a groin strain.
As well as that I am a trend-setter. Only a week before the Queen's granddaughter Zara Phillips dined at the Starfish cafe, I, my Auckland-dwelling sister and her partner, and other members of my family enjoyed brunch there. It was a stylish gathering, with comments being passed on the Second Born's fashion flair - an old Bayfield High School tie recycled for the purpose of holding up his shorts which may also have been recycled from a pair of jeans.
Note the "waste not, want not" theme shining through here.
Of course my own fashionista reputation dates back some years to when I wanted red shoes and was reduced to buying those made for Southland Girls High School.
Now, every second woman you see here is clomping about in red shoes.
I am not the sort of gal who is endlessly snapped by the paparazzi wearing a boring grey poncho either. My style is more dramatic than that. Only last week I was complimented on my red-black-and-white-striped polypropylene long johns when I was out for a bike ride. The chap concerned may have been what we call an alternative life-styler, or maybe even suffering from the morning after the night before, but if my memory serves me correctly he got into an older model Toyota.
But back to the advertising campaign. You wouldn't need to provide me with a new car. I would be happy for the 1997 Corolla hatchback to feature prominently. A new paint job would be appreciated - white is a bit boring. Black would have a suitable Rugby World Cup flavour to it.
Of course we won't be able to emulate any Zara-style Land Rover ad involving a horse float with the old 1300 (no towbar for a start), but we will be able to emphasise durability and reliability and the fact with the seats folded down I can fit in several bales of pea straw or hay.
I would be happy if it sparked a movement for wind-up windows - surely much healthier for everyone's arm muscles and allowing less opportunity for mechanical failure - but that's just the retro girl coming out in me.
If this is sounding a teensy bit dull so far, I am prepared to go the extra mile to attract attention to myself by behaving badly at bars with international rugby players. This might seem slightly unrealistic to you, given the age gap between me and your average RWC player, but be aware that I was once generously labelled as "The Drinking Man's Crumpet" by a student magazine and I am willing to live up to that title. As far as I know there are still a few rugby players who drink - they'd be letting down their sponsors if they didn't.
To help with this plan, I will be seeking information from a variety of bars to see which ones have complied with the guidelines on closed circuit television suggested by the privacy commissioner.
I will deliberately look for those entertainment venues which either don't have policies on publishing of CCTV footage, or have them but never bother to ensure their staff comply with them.
According to the commissioner's guidelines, it is surprising how many agencies have policies but do not follow them. That will play into my hands.
I'll be hoping they post my stuff on the internet, and if they don't, I will be seeking access to the footage (as is my right if they still have it) so I can put it up myself.
And when all hell breaks loose, one of the offspring will be on hand to drive me away at speed from the paparazzi in the Toyota Corolla.
I might even wind down the passenger window so I can give a few appropriate hand gestures to the media pack. Imagine those images flashed around the world! It would be lean thinking at its best.
• Elspeth McLean is a Dunedin writer.
