All posts in category: Sex

Next up Jane Bond or In-Diana Jones...

Why...

The fuss about gender change in the creative process? So Dr. Who is now a woman. Who-hoo! But the Doctor is not a human anyway? Time Lord, Time Lady... all a bit vague so I think it's a great idea, as did Dr. Who co-creator Sydney Neumann back in the 1980s who suggested it to the BBC (They rejected it)! But now there are calls for Jane Bond, Jolanda Bourne, even In-Diana Jones. No no no no no! These characters are as male as much as Lisabeth Salander (Dragon Tattoo) Katniss Everdeen (Hunger Games) and Celie (Colour Purple) are female. The lunatic who thinks altering the author's original vision is their prerogative is at best wholly presumptive and at worst insulting to the creative process. As always the cries for these changes are emitted by mental pipsqueaks with all the creative talent of a mollusk. If they are so keen to see changes, go create something; don't stand at the sidelines picking at other people's work. I already blogged about the lunacy of PC titles for books (http://www.andanotherthing.com/when-did-you-last-read-the-dark-nag) but changing the sex, colour, nationality, religion or race of a lead literary character to suit the mood of the day is so short sighted as to make Mr. Magoo have the vision of an eagle. Creative work needs to be seen in the context of when it was written as well as the time it was written about. Should we remove slavery from Gone with the Wind or short people from Gulliver's Travels and Snow White? Does Mr. McGregor threatening to put Peter Rabbit in a pie upset the Vegans? In Jack and The Beanstalk, "Fee, fye, foo, fum I smell the aftershave on an Englishman" just does not cut if for me. I know… let's remake Guess who's coming to Dinner… yup, with a Transgender.

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So bad they named it twice

September 6, 2020
Entertainment/Media/Arts Kids/Family/Relations Sex Technology
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Why...

Do drug companies give their products not one but two instantly forgettable names? Is this because they all themselves have multiple names. GlaxoSmithKline, F. Hoffmann-La Roche or the puzzling Johnson & Johnson. Were they twins? Take statins? I do. Everyday. Lowers cholesterol and good for your heart. The actual name for mine is Rosuvastatin. Sounds like a Russian spy. However they sell it under the name brand Crestor. Why? It is confusing for me and plain difficult to remember. Isn’t it a toothpaste? And as for marketing, the name Crestor does sweet F.A. in telling me what it does. How about Heart-help? Ticker-tablet or Pressure buster? Same with just about any drug you can think of. Here is a list of the most common drugs with their retail name and fancy name. Levothyroxine (Synthroid) Lisinopril (Prinivil, Zestril) Gabapentin (Neurontin) Amlodipine (Norvasc) Hydrocodone/acetaminophen (Vicodin, Norco) Amoxicillin (Amoxil) Omeprazole (Prilosec) Metformin (Glucophage) Losartan (Cozaar). Unless you are actually taking them how many do you recognise or know what they treat? Yet they are sold by the gazillions! With the $€¥ billions these guys syphon off us, does their marketing department really think that unpronounceable and hard to remember names gives them gravitas and therefore the right to charge like the Light Brigade for their product! It’s loopy. I suppose Viagra comes close with association with vigour but Hard-as-rock is much better. Vicodin should be Zonked and Gabapentin Ouch-away. As for herpes busting Zovirax (real name Acyclovir) how about No-sex-just-yet.

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Whatever happened to bath time?

Why...

Do I nearly always shower? A long soak in the tub comes from an era when things were less hurried. Bath time for me now evokes a period in England that is ‘mid Agatha Christie’. Milk was delivered to your door and fruit flavoured ice lollies contained no actual fruit, only additives. Women wore A line skirts and no one ever swore on TV. Any form of ablution was to be enjoyed, be it a bath full of ducks, battleships or even other playmates! And nearly always at the end of the day so you could take as long as wanted. Morning showers have sort of crept up on me as the only way to clean. I have lived for two years in this house and whose bath is a whirlpool. In that time the only things ever washed in it have been the dogs! As a kid the idea of a whirlpool bath would have offered more fun than an aircraft hanger sized slot car track. Creating bubbles without having to fart would have been nirvana; the idea it was big enough for all your friends to splash about would have been so exciting that I would have performed household chores just to be able to have a bath like that!

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If eating food is a sport, I need to start training properly

Why...

Can I not think of a single redeeming feature of eating competitions... unless of course it’s my company’s food. There are plenty of people who can argue with some justification that tug-of-war, tiddlywinks, or Morris Dancing are sports. At least they require some skill, a smidgen of technical ability. Dare I say it, there is also some teamwork or aesthetic beauty. Apart from the hand to eye coordination of being able to stuff food into your mouth like a high speed conveyor belt, I can think of nothing that needs any special requirements... except zero common sense and a stomach capable of enlarging to the size of a mid range Buick. Let’s put aside the question of if it’s a sport. Let’s start with why is it even a pastime. The basics. Gluttony. That is the skill. That attracts a very specific individual. Certainly if you shout in their ear you might get an echo. The goal. Waste as much bad food as possible and try not to vomit. Every eating competition I have found contains junk food with more additives than a years worth of Apple I-phone updates. Competitors taste buds are not exactly refined. And as the food is cheap, so it’s easy to supply in industrial size portions. From a personal point of view I would question the word Food! I mean no one ever has a caviar or truffle eating festival otherwise I might be tempted.

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Exactly what is the definition of survival of the fittest?

Why...

Is it always portrayed in the media that only ‘Tarzans’ can survive in the post apocalyptical jungle? What exactly do people mean by survival of the fittest anyway? I am prepared to admit most of the contestants on Gladiator could run circles around me (or trapeze above me waiving a giant Q-tip trying to knock over another contestant) but how much use would they be in a post apocalyptic Armageddon? Without whitening toothpaste and an endless supply of spandex, not much. In fact the gap between dumb as dog-slobber and super smart seems to double every 5 years. Technology has made dimwits of 99% of us. I mean how many reading this actually knows how a smart phone works, yet I suspect 200 years ago, 99% of us understood how to make smoke signals. And what skills would we need to survive? I suppose that depends on the environment of survival. If it’s all 1984 or even Terminator, being a geek looks a good bet. Q rather than 007. Planet of the Apes apocalypse and I suspect being able to run fast is critical, as is having an endless supply of nuts. A post nuclear disaster, I’d suggest being a welder who can whip up a lead suit to keep radiation out is a plus or a decent cook if you have to spend eternity in a bunker.

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Duck it; shot happens

Why...

Is Spellcheck watched over by some electronic Mary Poppins? If I search in Google for any number of potentially innocent things such as water sports; adult I am offered an eye-popping smorgasbord of entertainment, many of which have nothing to do with surfboarding, scuba diving or water skiing and are very rude indeed! Yet I am prevented from typing some decent Anglo Saxon swear words in a document without them getting changed or redlined. I can almost hear my iPhone nanny tutting at the vulgarity. The only alternative is to sit with Roger’s Profanisaurus (dictionary of swear words and slang) and insert (ho-ho) every rude word I can think of into to my personal dictionary so I continue to be abusive to my friends…in a language at least they understand!

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Where there’s a will, there’s a... relative

November 8, 2019
Friends Kids/Family/Relations Politics Sex Uncategorised
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Why...

Did God invent money? To keep you in touch with your children.

It’s a sad truth that money trumps politics, religion or sexual orientation as the biggest buster-upper of families.

Here I stick my hand up and admit in my own family if mention is made of wills and inheritance it’s like nails down a blackboard.

Before we get personal, let me start with the tax logic... or utter lack of it. If you’ve had your nose to the grindstone, worked hard and paid your taxes, why do you get taxed again gifting it to whomever you please. Now I know in the UK there is a daft provision that if you live for seven years after the bequeath then what you bequeath is tax free. But why? What cockamamie logic is that?

When you are on the last lap of the race of life and you need money to look after yourself and lessen the burden to others... sorry, you must give it all away to lessen the inheritance tax bill. Either you live in poverty in your last years or rely on those you gave your money too will look after you. Either has the potential for disaster.

Next. The taxman's beady little eyes are more shortsighted than a mole. They value an Estate at time of death, not at the grant of probate. Mad. Let me give a simple example. Let’s say you sadly popped your clogs before the crash of 2007 when stocks were high but your wife who achieves probate afterwards when stocks were often more than halved; she would find there was very little left after the taxman had his Jaws like bite.

Then there is probate itself. Legal constipation at its finest. Even simple probate takes a year and more complex ones taking up to five times that.

Once you have got through all this... the legal challenge. A minefield and the explosive device upon which many a family have trodden and blown themselves to smithereens.

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I want to determine Government Policy... right after I’ve tidied my room and finished my homework

Why...

Should a 16 year-old get the right to vote? Winston Churchill once said the biggest argument against democracy is to hold a five minute conversation with a voter. God knows what he would have said if confronted with an acne-infested child whose only experience of voting is on Big Brother or X factor! There is good reason to keep the vote at 18. It’s called maturity and experience. The same reason in the UK you have to be 18 to:

Buy cigarettes, rolling tobacco and cigarette papers
Buy alcoholic drinks in a pub or a bar
Buy fireworks
View, rent or buy an 18 rated film
View, rent or buy pornographic material that does not contravene UK obscenity laws
Place a bet in a betting shop or casino
Get a tattoo
Join the Army and fight in conflict
Drive a car
Fly a plane

At sixteen all you get to do legally is shag, stop going to school, and so remain an unemployable moron, and ride a moped. And now there is demand these people get to vote!? At 16 boys are just packets of testosterone ready to challenge any status quo and girls often naive romantics; both sets are naturally drawn to the idealism of socialism (often pushed by zealot teachers) without the knowledge that it has failed in just about every country to embrace it. Hence, Socialists are always eager to lower the vote to people 99.9% of whom pay no taxes and have about as much experience of the real world as Paris Hilton’s chihuahua.

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No, it’s not an illness nor a condition... it’s lack of self-control

October 18, 2019
Entertainment/Media/Arts Fasion Health & Beauty Finance/Law Kids/Family/Relations Sex Sport
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Why...

Is everything bad that happens to young people not their fault or beyond their control? However, if anything good happens, especially by blind stupid luck (yes, you lottery winners & Love Island/ Big Brother) it is all down to destiny and a well-deserved reward from society ‘for being me’... especially if I am lazy and lack a nanogramme of skill. We have created a generation that is obsessed with the self and values just existing as a reason to enjoy rewards, regardless of any talent (a bit like the succession in the monarchy....). When growing up, my generation wanted to have a talent to allow us to be an astronaut, athlete, Rock God, movie icon, Wall Street Titan or porn star. Ambition was about having talent. A recent survey showed that the most popular ambition now is to be a reality TV star; i.e. not bother with learning to fly, run, play an instrument, sing, act, count or keep a hard on for a day! Basically, you just permanently shop, make vacuous statements and put your name to a line of cosmetics to get paid buckets of money. If you have butt cheeks between which you could park a Harley Davidson, even better.

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How you treat your servants will predict how long you will live

Why...

Do we treat those who help us with such disdain? History tells us what happens. All empires fade away... usually about the time the home help gets pissed off. Take Ancient Rome. There are only so many orgies you can clean up after, a limited number of vomitorium’s you can sluice out, before even a slave decides “screw this for a game of coco, I’ve had enough”. Their debauched and jowly bosses were so far removed from the granite hard soldiers who founded Rome that sure enough, before you could say Barbarians at the gate... it all came tumbling down. And not one slave or servant shed a tear. It is in fact a little scary to note that the sudden rise in the transgender ‘population’ almost exactly coincided with the collapse of Rome, but that will be another blog.

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Not only do most men not understand ‘female plumbing’ but we underestimate the vital importance of the ‘manny peddy’ at our peril.

September 13, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Life Sex
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Why...

Does nail upkeep score so high on life’s necessities for women and are just a short chore to men? During one of those lulls in a dinner party conversation after I had chatted for twenty minutes on politics, shopping, Love Island and varicose veins with the woman on my left and now waiting for a chance to break into conversation with the woman on my right, I heard the most extraordinary exchange between two women sitting opposite each other. “… Yes. Ruined it. Can you imagine?” “Oh my God. Disaster. What did you do?” “Well. I had to have a drink just to keep me from screaming and losing it. No choice. That night I had to wear closed toed shoes and came back first thing next morning before anyone could see. I mean. It was horrific.” The cause of this tale of woe was not frostbite, a malignant verruca or even an in-growing toenail. The nail varnish that had been so lovingly applied to this lady’s big toe had not dried properly before she left the salon and when she got home found her shoe had smudged the scarlet varnish and left a wave effect on her nail. With this severe handicap, open toed shoes that night were clearly not even a remote possibility. The fact the other lady expressed equal shock, drove home to me the importance to women of the upkeep of their hooves. Something men cannot comprehend. Every so often my wife remarks I could play the banjo with my toenails and I take three seconds per toe with clippers to prune them. That’s it.

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Don’t talk to me. I’m breathing and I can’t do two things at once

Why...

Is the law about to stop me talking? (Hooray you all cry.) I see there is legislation being pushed to stop people using a hands-free phone whilst driving as it disturbs concentration. The idea that you are incapable of driving a car and having a conversation is absurd. And the idea that a phone call requires more concentration than talking to your passenger is equally daft. Let me tell you, I have to concentrate far more whilst conversing with my passenger, especially if it’s my wife, than chatting on the phone. For a start, I can’t pull a long face, flick her the bird, put her on mute, mutter obscenities under my breath, pick my nose, fart or even ignore her, like I can a voice in the ether. If communication whilst operating a vehicle is so dangerous, how come pilots who are constantly on the radio, don’t veer off to Iceland when on the way to the Costa Brava? Ships heading for Rotterdam don’t end up at Pismo Beach? The real problem of course is that a couple of generations have grown up whose idea of a conversation is texting. People just don’t have conversations, especially in a car. Usually there is a stereo blasting away so loud it makes your ears bleed. So, when a call does come in, an inordinate amount of concentration is needed to hold a conversation. Or worse they text. Result… car crash. Perhaps as part of the driving test, the examiner should have a heated debate on politics or religion. Or the person taking the test should take a call from the Boss.

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Why hasn’t Viagra saved the rhino?

Why...

Are rhinos still being hunted? I read with some joy that a bunch of white rhinos from different European zoos are meeting in Prague for a few days of R and R before being shipped out for their club 18-30 holiday village in the wilds of Rwanda. It is hoped the traditional summer holiday spirit of fornication, so alive from Fort Lauderdale to Magaluf, will also turn our teen-age rhinos into sex machines and help build back their numbers. Apparently, rhinos are polite beasts and like a ‘getting-to-know-you’ cocktail party before deciding to mate. Hence the Prague get together. Rhino courtship is in fact quite complex involving a lot of pooh smelling by the males to determine which fragrance most pleases them. I can just imagine the chit chat over a gin and tonic: “I say, Griselda. I was mighty impressed with the aroma of your pile back there. I wonder if you would care to accompany me for a stroll in the forest once we reach our holiday destination?” “Why thank you Herman, yes I spent several hours choosing the right food to leave that bouquet. How gallant of you to notice. I’d be delighted to take a walk with you. Meanwhile can you pass me some of those pineapple and cheese chunks on a stick and top up my drink?” Now a rhinoceros is in fact quite a peaceful thing. However, when you reckon they weigh 2,300 kilos and run at twice the speed of Usain Bolt at full tilt, it’s best not to piss them off. Coz you ain’t getting away from them. I spent a pleasant afternoon with some in Nepal not long ago. One did bear a big gash over a hind quarter, but the guide assured me this was a result of a little light foreplay before getting down to some serious rutting rather than ramming a tourist vehicle! However, their ground up horns are highly prized to cure erectile dysfunction. Daft really as it’s made from hair, not bone and thinking hair can help an erection is like thinking you can play snooker with cooked spaghetti. This dust, however, costs as much as Viagra. I do not understand how there is a market for an expensive piece of witchcraft that does not work as opposed to a little blue pill that does. Surely the easiest way to stop this trade is to make Viagra available at deep discounts in those parts of the world that believe this nonsense... and cut the Johnson off anyone stupid enough to buy rhino horn instead of the pill, as they clearly have no idea how a willy works. I suspect by adopting those two simple ideas, the rhino poaching problem would be solved.

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Time travel exists... if you can splash the cash

Why...

Can’t I have my own flux capacitor in a Delorean car, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future? There are a couple of people whom I would love to revisit in the past and give them some sound investment tips; Atari, Pan Am and Bernie Madoff! However, in the real world anyone who actually wants to experience time travel simply has to go to a National Health Service A&E department at the nearest hospital to remove the saucepan stuck on their toddler’s head. By the time their infant is extricated he or she will be a teen-ager and the parent will be eligible for a pension. If however, they had shelled out for private A&E they’d be home in time for tea and the private hospital would no doubt scrub the saucepan before returning it. Same result... decades apart! Now, before you all yell at me that this is a disgrace and elitist, I fully accept there are people who have no option but to use the NHS. However it’s £100 for this service privately. The same as a family dinner, a football ticket or a couple of months of Sky TV. Plenty of people can afford those. It’s really about priorities and our sense of entitlement. It’s no different from buying a priority boarding pass on an economy airline so that they can cattle-prod you to the front of the queue. For me it’s worth it not to sit next to a gaggle of hen party revellers or be lectured by an expert on Brexit for three hours. And the same journey can feel like it’s taking twice as long if seated next to someone listening to rap music but without headphones rather than a pretty girl asking what she should do all on her own at her new destination. Well, that’s the theory of relativity explained for you. The only equaliser amongst us all is time and how we allocate it. Having spent a week bouncing around North America, then a week unpacking furniture, had I the money I would gladly have paid other people to do either.

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Legs eggs and stupid regs

April 19, 2019
Animals/Pets Food & Drink Friends Life Sex
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Why...

Is Easter so weird? In reality of course it commemorates the trial and death of Jesus Christ. Yet in a deft bit of marketing mixed with heathen tradition it has become all about birth, sex, spring and chocolate eggs. Of course to kick all this off we have all the Mardi Gras parades, the hottest of which is of course the Rio Carnival. I have the utmost respect for the Brazilian Catholic’s. They managed to turn the beginning of 40 days of fasting mixed with sackcloth and ashes into a bacchanalian extravaganza. In fact during the carnival things really do go with a bang. The amount of cocaine consumed is so vast that there are discernible traces in the air! No wonder even your grannie can samba for a week non stop.

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Just show me ... don’t write it

March 22, 2019
Entertainment/Media/Arts Life Sex Technology
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Why...

Have written instructions survived? Whenever I buy anything, I am required to download instructions or manuals as if the digital video age never happened. You can download a video on everything from how to get to the next level of Minecraft, to poaching a peacock, or sticking false eyelashes on your goldfish; so why can’t all instruction manuals be videos? Yes, if I really want to get down to the minutiae of how my MP4 player can change the space time continuum or my mobile phone will connect with the dead, I can read up on the fine print. However, 90% of people (and 100% of normal ones) simply want to know the basics of how their latest toy works. So please, let’s just have a video showing me? It would certainly make buying the odd sex toy more interesting! Part of the reason I find digital currency so complex is not the theory of having a secure method of payment outside of the clutches of government or banks but the assumption the guy in the street understands how to actually go about the process. It’s Gobbledigook. Double gobbledigook if you tried Das Coin and the electronic WebWallet nonsense via NetLeaders. In an age when FaceTime, Zoom, Skype and Instagram are the communication medium of choice, why am I still asked to download a PDF on how to work a camera! I mean it’s a camera. Visual medium. Which bright spark in marketing thought: “Well, once we have sold this, let’s send a booklet to read that’s a couple of hundred pages long....” Show me how and I might even buy some of the bolt in extras like telephotos etc.

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Eat drink and be merry ... for tomorrow you can diet!

Why...

Is every avenue of pleasure depicted as a path to Armageddon? This time of the year I must admit I cram too much food and drink into my stomach, but does this really mean the grim reaper will be sharpening his scythe? Christmas overindulgence needs to be balanced with a feeling of wellbeing, a grudging love of fellow man and slipping a few extra £,$,€ into the collection box. But happiness is not a terminal disease. Nevertheless, TV presenters wearing Elf ears or Santa hats, give out dire warnings of all the drawbacks to the holiday season. Frankly if I live a couple of years longer without ever having eaten a chocolate eclair or enjoyed (in my bachelor days) a memorable Christmas Eve in Manila in the warm embrace of a pair of Air Stewardesses and some wakky baccy, I think I would have missed out. As Hunter S. Thompson said, “Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming "Wow! What a Ride!”

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If God was a woman, celery would have more calories than chocolate and white wine would replace water

Why...

Has the law of natural selection seemed to have passed by foodstuffs and things I enjoy? How come a yummy, light and fluffy chocolate eclair, something every sinew in my body urges me to eat, is bad for me at every level, as opposed to a vomit inducing kilo of brussels sprouts which my nutritionist says is bursting with goodness? In everything else our natural urges ensure our survival; be it wanting to have sex to procreate, nonstop chatter thereby ensuring protection by being tribal, a natural aversion to snakes or Politicians or any of a dozen natural instincts that Mother Nature instilled in our subconscious for our own good... except consuming calories, tobacco and alcohol. What happened? Depends who I ask. The Catholic’s and Jews have a thing about guilt. It’s a guilty pleasure to consume single malt whisky or puff on a Cohiba cigar so Yahweh or God, in his infinite wisdom made these things bad for me to test my faith. But that kind of logic is as cracked as the Grand Canyon. It also explains their puritanical views re sex (I like it but cannot have it unless under very strict conditions, passed down by the Almighty, often to people who are forbidden to have sex). If you ask Tom Cruise and his Scientology friends, they may say that liking things that are bad for us is an instinct passed on from the Thetans who visited Earth and had hanky panky with a lot of us humans. So, we inherited their love of all that’s bad as clearly on their planet they all indulged heavily in narcotics, sugar, ciggies and alcohol. All I can say to that is lead me to their planet and explain to me if they are such superior beings, they left their own nirvana?

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New York hotel bank of Elevators win gold at synchronised swimming and why my etiquette rules can mean death

Why...

Can no one programme elevators so they don’t all go up and down in unison? It is nearly fifty years since man started leaving litter on the moon, yet we can still spend a lifetime watching a bank of elevators all going in the same direction and stopping at the same floors... at the same time. I’m no early riser so can cut leaving a hotel a little fine to get to an airport or meeting on time. I once spent 15 minutes in a New York hotel waiting for an elevator to make it up to the 35th floor. Rather like waiting for a bus, long periods of nothing happening, then suddenly all six elevators arrived at my floor at the same time. I suspect to this day if you dusted the elevator call button for fingerprints, mine would come up as I had pushed the damned fluorescent decent arrow so often in exasperation they must still be engraved on it.

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I am sorry, if you want to be in a ‘cowboy outfit’, please come dressed as an incompetent and dishonest plumber

Why...

Can’t I dress up without a dressing down? I understand the Student Union in Edinburgh have come out with a long list of what is no longer acceptable to wear at fancy dress. Students have been warned that costumes “based on racial or cultural stereotypes” are banned including those portraying Native Americans, Arabs, Nazis, a woman in a Burka, Buddha, a Mullah or a Catholic Priest, (although for some strange reason a nun is OK). They have now added the ‘Cowboy Outfit’! Whoever is President of the Student Union needs to donate his or her body to medical research so we can try and find out how God managed to remove the humour chromosome. This is the thinking that got rid of Kleenex Man Size tissues and will no doubt tell us ‘the time of the month’ is now when females wo-menstruate. Students are meant to be stroppy, rowdy and obsessed with big hopeless causes; saving the polar bear, stopping melting ice caps, ending world poverty or getting Simon Cowell to quit Botox and white T-shirts. They tilt like Don Quixote at these windmills of impossible dreams until the real post graduate world bites. Your bolshy economics student grows up when he has to go spend their cash on white goods (washing machine, fridge, freezer) rather than a few tabs of E. But fancy dress! Is that a needy focus of undergraduate ire?

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All posts in category: Sex

Next up Jane Bond or In-Diana Jones...

Why...

So bad they named it twice

Why...

Whatever happened to bath time?

Why...

If eating food is a sport, I need to start training properly

Why...

Exactly what is the definition of survival of the fittest?

Why...

Duck it; shot happens

Why...

Where there’s a will, there’s a... relative

Why...

I want to determine Government Policy... right after I’ve tidied my room and finished my homework

Why...

No, it’s not an illness nor a condition... it’s lack of self-control

Why...

How you treat your servants will predict how long you will live

Why...

Not only do most men not understand ‘female plumbing’ but we underestimate the vital importance of the ‘manny peddy’ at our peril.

Why...

Don’t talk to me. I’m breathing and I can’t do two things at once

Why...

Why hasn’t Viagra saved the rhino?

Why...

Time travel exists... if you can splash the cash

Why...

Legs eggs and stupid regs

Why...

Just show me ... don’t write it

Why...

Eat drink and be merry ... for tomorrow you can diet!

Why...

If God was a woman, celery would have more calories than chocolate and white wine would replace water

Why...

New York hotel bank of Elevators win gold at synchronised swimming and why my etiquette rules can mean death

Why...

I am sorry, if you want to be in a ‘cowboy outfit’, please come dressed as an incompetent and dishonest plumber

Why...