Dear Agony actuary

Well, this is awkward. And it presents us with several knotty professional problems, which I will discourse upon freely for the next seven hundred words or so.

Firstly, it makes it very difficult for us in our roles as, respectively, adviser to The Waggledance Brothers PLC, and scheme actuary of the Waggledance Pension Scheme. When I started my actuarial career, it would have been perfectly acceptable for the company and trustee adviser to exchange confidential information between their clients, and indeed it was almost childishly simple to do so, not even requiring any form of written or oral communication between the two parties. This is because the scheme actuary used to also be the company's adviser.

This made funding negotiations, which would affect the employer's contribution to the scheme, fairly chaotic. The scheme actuary would sit on one side of a desk and suggest a discount rate. Then he would rush madly round to a chair at the other side, thump the table, and remonstrate openly with himself about his excessive prudence. It was exhausting work, several actuaries died from exertion and, for this reason, it is now considered appropriate for the adviser to the pension scheme to be a different person than the adviser to the company in such matters.

The fact that you have your elbow seemingly inextricably stuck between my teeth renders us null and void as a brace of conflict-free Waggledance advisers. Either you will have to resign your position, or I mine. The only other alternative would be to employ a surgeon to render one or the other of us blind, and for the other to communicate his advice to the client through the medium of written communication and/or dance. And I wish neither to go blind or to dance - particularly, the Riverdance, which, in my view, is more a form of leg Tourette's than an acceptable set of dance moves.

I can also foresee a second difficulty arising from our regrettable elbow-mouth entanglement. It will become plain to you when I meet with the Disciplinary Board next week that I am considering making a formal complaint, over certain eccentric behaviour I have observed in you of late. I am not referring to the time you attended the Worshipful Company of Actuaries' Halloween Party dressed as Mr Pickwick - such foolishness is par for the course at this event - but to the means by which you selected the discount rate for the 2014 valuation.

It is some time since I passed the exams, so I consulted a recent qualifier and she assured me that darts is not put forward as a valid technique for assumption selection.

The third difficulty we face is that our situation seriously hampers my ability to communicate with my clients and my staff, and these days communication is of immense importance. When I first started out, in 1903, there was not a great deal of emphasis placed on communication skills. Indeed, it was regarded as a badge of honour if you could baffle your clients with jargon. Now, however, they even have an actuarial examination in communication (CA3) and it is one of the five values laid out in the Actuaries' Code.

Lastly, I think if we are to live out the rest of our lives in such close proximity to one another, we will have to work for the same employer and, being realistic, move in together. This will create a myriad of problems in itself.

For a start, I am on a three-month contract and my employer is unlikely to take kindly to a sudden departure. We are just about to enter the busy season, as five of my clients have 31 December valuation dates. I suspect you are in a similar position. And it may even be regarded as 'poaching' if I join your firm, as I note that you only left our company two months ago, and will have signed a contract not to cause any other staff to follow you.

All in all, having your elbow stuck in my mouth is extremely inconvenient for me and, I imagine, for you also. My husband has started asking questions too. I have, however, a simple solution to the whole problem.

Have you seen the film "127 Hours"?

Your sincerely,

Agony actuary