He asks the manufacturer of stadium seating: 'When entering or exiting a seat in a stadium, which is the proper side to face the person sitting down? Rear to them or crotch to them?' He is also an inventor of sorts, revealing to an underwear company his idea for six-day pants: 'It has three leg openings. Every other day you rotate and move over one leg opening.' Nancy has also lost many belongings in hotels, from a bag of otter hair ('I use it as a second coat of hair for my ageing otter'), a tooth ('small, hard, whitish object the size of a piece of corn'), and an altar to a deceased neighbour ('a lock of hair, photo, scent bag, toenails, breath pad'). He has a range of costumes that he wants to wear in public - ranging from a shrimp, a ripe banana, a stick of butter and a rotting radish - but kindly asks for written permission before donning them.

But the replies from the companies are funnier than the letters they are responding to.

'Regarding your request to gamble in shrimp attire, we feel that . . . it might be too distractive,' a Las Vegas hotelier replied.

But the bus company cheerfully informed him: 'There should be no problem travelling while in your butter costume.' While the replies at times reveal the sensitivities or goodwill of corporations, Nancy's missives offer no insight into himself.

Letters is laugh-out-loud funny, but it is best read in short spurts as the query-response format can become a bit tiring and repetitive.

Seinfeld fans should find Letters amusing, as will anyone who has ever received a 'Dear Sir/Madam' letter from a nut.