All posts in category: Travel/Nature

Anyone who yells “I know my rights”... invariably does not

Why...

Do people think watching episodes of Law and Order or Judge Judy qualifies them to understand all aspects of the law, when most don’t know their writs from their tits? During my last trip in the aluminium hen coop they call Air Malta, I tilted my chair back a fraction. As some of you know I have had back surgery and sitting bolt upright for three hours is painful. Immediately behind me this beached whale kicked the back of my chair and slapped the top of my head yelling, “I know my rights. Put your chair back in upright position. I have no room.” Rather than get into a huge fight, I simply pulled out a card and gave it to him, whispering, “So, do I”. He shut up. It was not my card, but a lawyer’s card from one of the UK’s top law firms I had recently visited. It read Senior Litigation Partner.

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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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Cover up! ...My wife, the sunscreen Nazi

Why...

Does my wife insist I face the summer’s rays, either fully covered up or looking like an animated meringue… a white blob completely covered in cream? As I watch Sky News today from Malta, I see the UK is nudging 40c (104 Fahrenheit). My fellow countrymen are slowly melting whilst watching their new Prime Minister inflict verbal assault and battery on the Leader of the Opposition in his first Prime Minister’s Question Time. I note none of the MP’s gathered are smothered in sun cream despite it being hotter than Beelzibub’s underpants. Clearly their wives have never met mine.

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Assume the position...

July 5, 2019
Fasion Health & Beauty Life Travel/Nature Work
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Why...

On some occasions do I happily perform physical feats that I know are pointless or make me look like a gormless half-wit? Another day, another business flight... another useless safety demonstration. My favourite part is when instructed, I must… “Assume the brace position” (i.e. bend forward, head on lap, hands locked under knees). The only position I am assuming, is that in a moment or two I will be zipping through the Pearly Gates of St. Peter at 600MPH. Whether seconds before this I perform a handstand or a fiendishly complicated yoga position, will make no difference to the outcome.

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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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Attention Airlines. I am not an egg. Please don’t poach me

Why...

Do airlines insist on cabins being too hot when you board? I admire pilots. My son is one. The only thing more difficult to understand how to operate than a plane is possibly Donald Trump’s hairdryer… but not a simple thermostat. So please, all cabin crew, can we set cabins at a temperature that human life as we know it can survive when we board? Overheated cabins incense me (in every sense of the word) so much that I have started to take a digital thermometer with me when I travel. I enjoy waving this at the In-Flight Attendant showing a toasty 28c/86f degrees and once in my seat I loudly suggest: “Excuse me, after three minutes I should be perfectly poached. My wife sitting next to me wonders if you would bring her some buttered toast to accompany her meal.”

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Moving house... so time for an overseas trip or be admitted to hospital

Why...

Does my wife and I moving to a new house together equate to impending divorce? My wife was brought up a military brat and so as a kid moved to a new house every two or three years. To her, it’s a disciplined exercise, undertaken with logic. To me it’s a maelstrom of chaos mixed with a healthy dollop of fear. Without fail, the one thing I need will be in the last box I unpack. This means as soon as we arrive, I start emptying one of 300 boxes to find this missing necessity (for example my lucky underpants worn at crucial meetings), without which life as I know it will cease and my business will go bust. On our first move together, my scurrying from box to box emptying contents all over the floor to unpack that moment’s ‘must find item’ upset my wife and sent her off to find a pick-ax to discourage me from my manic actions. That was the first and last time we moved house together. We survived the experience thanks to industrial strength tranquillisers, a plantation’s output of tobacco and a vat full of booze. After that trauma, during all other moves I have either:

been in the US on business,
been in hospital with pneumonia
or left the country at the start of a tax year.

By some miracle each time I arrive back at our new home, I find nearly everything unpacked and all that’s left is to hang the pictures and iron my lucky underpants.

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Big brother is watching... while serving you bacon and eggs

January 10, 2019
Animals/Pets Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do I get paranoid about waiters who hover and watch over me?

We have just returned from an exercise in fear that my wife called a holiday in Nepal. Somewhere around 50 years old I turned from someone happy to do a handstand on the top of the 50 metre/160 ft high Roman Aqueduct The Pont du Gard to becoming afraid of heights. When I was in my twenties, before a litany of accidents, I was scared of nothing. Fall off a horse a few times and suddenly it gets harder to get back in that saddle. Therefore the knocks and bangs from reckless adventuring in my life has annoyingly driven fear through experience into my psyche. The self preservation instinct has turned me from Leo the Lion into The Cowardly Lion.

Nevertheless I was always told to face down your fears... so not to be outdone by my fearless (and younger) wife, I gritted my teeth through a helicopter ride across Annapurna range and a plane ride to Mount Everest! Added to this was a jump off Mount Annapurna in a hang glider and a trip on the world’s fastest (120KPH 80 MPH) and longest (2km 1.2mile) zip line. Toss into that an encounter with several rhinos and a tiger... all without having to change my underpants.

My wife on the other hand thought all this a hoot and in every photo is seen grinning like Jack Nicholson in One flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest while I had the fixed manic smile when Jack played the Joker in Batman. I have tried to explain to her to make the most of it as soon, she too will be grabbed by old age jitters.

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?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? ?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne. WTF does this actually mean..?

Why...

Do a gazillion people hail the new year with this unintelligible song?

At least in the previous week we have had some variations with Christmas hits of years gone by, but when it comes to the New Year this Scottish caterwauling is all we can summon up.

It might be justifiable if anyone could actually remember the lyrics but like a few other songs (most notably Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Deep Blue Something, Or Blinded by the Light by Bruce Springsteen) I can only remember the song title which I loudly sing out... then mumble through the rest. So for once, this New Year I am somewhere where I will be spared this song.

As you read this, I will have spent a week trying to keep up with my wife trudging through Nepal. Whilst in the sweltering heat of a Maltese summer, I admit a few days amongst the ice and snow of Everest had a certain appeal. I fear as I stand here at midnight with a wind chill factor so cold my pubic hair crackles, I might have made an error of judgement.

All day I was sure I had ice in my veins. As midnight approached I had just had my first shot of local hooch Aila. It had an interesting effect on my stomach, tasting like something between Draino and molten lava. It has had the desired effect. My body is glowing, my cheeks the colour of condemned veal and hot enough to toast a crumpet... but I wonder if the fire will continue all the way down the alimentary canal and result in a sprint to the bathroom. Difficult in yak boots.

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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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Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...

Do I bother trying to track down customer service? Nearly all consumer product company websites are designed to keep the customer service email and call centre numbers harder to find than spotting ‘Where’s Waldo’. If I do find the telephone number in the haystack of info, rise early and call in the first seconds of opening time, I always seem so unlucky! As if by magic, that very day it appears everyone else is doing the same thing. “Due to a high volume of calls...” Translate that into: “Due to lack of us staffing this place with enough people to bat away the volley of complaints raining down on us like arrows in the battle of Agincourt, we will at least make money out of you suckers by increasing call capacity to 1,000 idiots at $1 per minute so we can make $60,000 an hour doing nothing but reading the papers.” To add insult to injury these customer call centres are usually located in Nowheresville Uzbekistan, Mongolia or possibly Scranton. Get through and you might as well talk to an aardvark as all you get is a script with no room for nuance or common sense. In addition I am sure most of the call centre staff would have more chance, blindfolded, pinning the tail on a donkey, than into a map to identify where I am calling from.

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Oh, come on... what happens in Benidorm stays in Benidorm

Why...

When I went on my first solo summer holiday, was the hottest part of the day always after dark? I remember reading that in the 1980’s such was the lure of ‘a quickie in Magaluf’ that over 35% of single people had sex with a stranger within two days of starting a package holiday on the Costa Brava. I suppose if you ground out 50 weeks a year in a damp typing pool in Wigan, some rumpy pumpy in an exotic locale had a very strong appeal. I mean all those hormones, no parents and no prying phone camera from your friends to tell the world what you had been up to. My holiday snaps in the 1970s were taken on the last day to show my Aunt the sea view from my room and the plane I flew home on; taken with a camera loaded with one roll of film with 12 shots (ASA 100 - Remember those). Today’s racy photographs that cover snapchat like acne would never have been developed by my local Boots. Instead I would have found a note inside saying these pictures were unsuitable to print! I can assure you that what I was looking for on those first holidays was not a UNESCO World Heritage Site or a basket weaving co-operative. So I was somewhat staggered to learn that young people on their first solo holidays nowadays seek out exotic locations as opposed to locations where they indulge in something erotic. Cheap and cheerful holidays have been replaced with earnest young people wanting to load up on Instagram a photo of a three toed armadillo or four eared fruit bat. Students and the first time employed apparently now yearn to sample the delights of a warm oil colonic irrigation whilst eating mung beans in an Ashram. Fun seems to be a ten mile trek through some mosquito infested swamp with the reward of a tofu burger and cup of tepid fruit tea, rather than an all-night rave and enough E to fill a giant size bag of M&Ms. The kiss me quick traps of the Baby Boomers and X Generation have suddenly gone quiet. The locals in great swathes of Spain, Italy and Greece are actually nostalgic for the old days of sluicing away the vomit from the night before’s over indulgence or collecting abandoned flip flops, thongs and condoms that once littered the beach in dawn’s early glow. Wolfing down paella with chips followed by binge drinking Raki with Sharon from Skegness has faded from memory like the sepia pictures that hang in the mock rustic tavernas. Now, whilst I am the last person to deny some culture to our youth, where has fun gone? I worry today’s youth are not being misspent.

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It’s all about service

July 13, 2018
Food & Drink Kids/Family/Relations Life Travel/Nature
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Why...

Do hotels with four or even five stars find the basics of what is expected so hard to deliver? The Porter. When I pull up in a taxi or my car, why is carrying my bags into the hotel a spectator sport? A porter should be there. No excuses. Instead, nearly all hotels are perfectly happy for me to lug cases inside when some spotty teenager dressed like an organ grinder’s monkey then expects a hefty tip as he wheels my bag from reception to the lift. I always enjoy pulling out a note then tearing off a third and saying... “That part is my share of taking these out of the car to reception.” Internet. If I am paying a decent price for a room don’t piss me off asking to pay an additional $25 a day for Internet. It’s grossly expensive and just appalling customer relations. WiFi is now as basic a requirement as electricity, aircon and hot water. I was recently charged for internet and then given a download service of less that 1 MBPS. For those luddites reading this, it means even a simple presentation document takes so long I would need a shave and a haircut by the time it finished downloading. Unless I am actually in Africa, watching BBC News Focus on Africa is as pointless as last year’s football results. If I am in Stockholm I could not give a toss about basket weaving co-ops in Laos, but more likely a terrorist attack in London. BBC, CNN and other news agencies seem to be mostly advertising monologues for third world dictatorships. You just get endless reports from parts of the world that are as relevant to my life as Morris Pole Dancing. If you are a five star hotel with an International clientele shell out the few extra pennies to allow us to watch rolling news (Sky News for the English... and Russia Today for those who like fairy stories before bedtime). Perhaps if I should just thank Reception on check out for such interesting news channels and offer to pay in Matabele gumbo-beads when presented with the bill? Bathroom. As I wrote before (here) I don’t wear glasses in the shower so print shampoo, conditioner and shower gel in big letters and have enough lights around the mirror to let a woman do her make-up. Bedroom. One switch by the bed to turn all the lights out.

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There ain’t no cure for the summertime blues

June 15, 2018
Animals/Pets Fasion Health & Beauty Life Sex Travel/Nature
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Why...

Is the colour of summertime really blue? Well, OK apart from the obvious colour of the sky and the sea. Let’s start with profanity. Yup. The redder the thermometer the bluer the language. It is beyond me how anyone in my youth managed to drive in the heat without air conditioning and not to lob a thermonuclear device into the idiots in front trying to read a road map. Remember those… only men could read them and only women could fold them while doing twenty miles an hour with an indicator that had been blinking for an hour. In London, on the days it gets really hot, a blind person cannot go on the tube. Reason? You cannot transport animals in a temperature over 30c (86f) and the subway regularly reaches 34 (93f). So whilst it was fine to gently poach a commuter, it was illegal for a guide dog to ride the tube! Aircon (again a blue colour) is so critical for comfort. How do London Black Cabs who again have no Aircon, not understand that in the summer they just give ground to Uber?

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♫ I hear somethin' sayin'♪ Yumm, Yumm ♫That's the sound of the men eating in the chain ga-a-ang♪

May 17, 2018
Animals/Pets Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Travel/Nature
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Why...

Does anyone bother to be a chef in some parts of the USA? Last month my wife and I went to visit my son in Florida where he teaches people to become Commercial Airline Pilots. Yup, I know the tallest mountain is Thunder Mountain in Disneyworld and in Daytona Beach where my son is working, there is more culture in a yoghurt but… one night we decided to go out for dinner and tried to find a local restaurant. On one three mile stretch of road we counted 51 different food franchise restaurants and spotted only one real bistro where somebody actually cooked a meal rather than follow the franchise instruction manual. This leads to the ludicrous situation where you ask for the teensiest change in a meal and you are met with a blank look from the waitress; “We cannot possibly hold the tomatoes/not use garlic/add extra turmeric… It would take away from the taste experience we have so carefully crafted.” Translation: “We can’t change anything because none of the people in the kitchen can actually cook anything. We just assemble pre-packed gloop and wouldn’t know turmeric if it came up and bit us in the ass.” The exception of course is anything that can get an allergic reaction (and then a law suit) so nuts are kept in separate radioactive bags only to be added to a dish at the last minute using two-foot-long tongs and industrial grade gloves.

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Lost & Found… but we keep it anyway

Why...

Is getting back stuff you have lost so difficult? Yes, I understand that my i-Phone and i-Pad should be attached to my wrists with a piece of string, just like a toddler’s gloves. I do have a tendency to lose things… A LOT. However, recently I left my i-Pad on a Turkish Airline flight that had to connect via Ataturk (Istanbul) Airport. I left the i-Pad on the plane that landed in Ataturk from Malta and noticed it missing on the plane to Sofia, my final destination. So far, so stupid. Rang the airline. Hooray they have found it. To confirm it was mine they asked for the access code to turn it on. I gave it to them. “When are you coming to collect it from Lost and Found?” I replied I was not coming back though Ataturk so could I send a courier to collect. “No. Lost and Found is airside (i.e. after customs/immigration control) so you have to collect yourself.” Having a Lost and Found at an airport that you can only physically pick up yourself if travelling is as logical as a chocolate tea-pot. In addition, my insurance company declined to pay out a loss as the item was in fact recovered. Now if I was a cynical chap, I might think this is part of a cunning plan. You lose an item on a plane, you hand over the access code to show it is yours, they know you are unlikely to collect and before you can say Ebay, it’s for sale… but that would be a terrible thing to suggest…….

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Time for a World Summit

Why...

Do people go to Davos? The question I pose is why Davos as a place, not why a bunch of billionaires and centi-millionaires congregate somewhere to discuss the plight of the working class! Call me stupid but last time I checked Davos is a ski resort. Clearly it would be electoral suicide for a Political bigwig to go there and be filmed enjoying a convivial après ski drink or a couple of runs down the mountain before breakfast… unless you are Putin when it’s more likely your opponents keep committing suicide. However whilst I understand that G10, G20, GSpot or whomever dutifully rotate the choice of a city between members for their get-togethers, who on earth said: “I know, let’s disrupt an entire ski resort in high season, fly a bunch of Politicians and plutocrats into a snow storm and add in a battalion of security guards and flunkies. Oh and the world’s press. Yup, we can shoehorn them somewhere that is dedicated to fun and frivolity and pretend it’s somewhere to save the world”. Whoever that someone was, is a genius and I assume is making a bundle of money out of this.

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Slow, slow, quick quick, slow

November 3, 2017
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Travel/Nature
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Why...

Walk to the loo when you can run?

I have eaten some spectacular botulism burgers and salmonella salmon sandwiches at airports. This kind of food is fast because it goes through your digestive system in a flash.

However ‘fast food or service’ that isn’t, is a far greater sin. Today I had to run to the bathroom not because of an upset tummy but because if I walked I would have missed my flight! All because it took nearly an hour to shop and eat.

Pay attention Duty Free Shop operators!

The key reason for being at an airport is to catch a plane.

Despite every indication to the contrary, Duty Free is not solely a shopping mall but part of a conveyor belt process to shift travellers onto a waiting aircraft... with an imminent departure time. (Unless you are flying Ryan Air in which case I would spend the days waiting to take off, doing the Christmas shopping. Even get a manny-peddy).

Once on the departure side of Passport control (and post a probable full cavity search) my time is limited. If Duty Free want to charge like The Light Brigade for a cup of Java and a salad that wilts like a Guardsman in a bearskin busbee in July, have enough people around so I can both a) order and b) pay

In the shops they need less people stacking magazine racks with The Morris Dancer Gazette or Podiatrist Today and more people available to open security locks on display items and on the tills.

I can understand having locks if a computer, expensive phone, camera etc. are on a rack... but a plug adaptor? It took me longer to buy that than get through the hand baggage check. In addition the sole till operator had a ten minute banter with her colleague as to why the bar code on a bottle of Chanel No.5 never works.

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YES, YES, YES… TWO MORE INCHES MAKES SUCH A DIFFERENCE

September 29, 2017
Fasion Health & Beauty Life Love Travel/Nature Uncategorised
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Why...

Is my life a squish? If ever there was a synonym for useless it’s the phrase 2+2 to describe the seating in a car. 2+2 does not equal four or even three in human terms. 2+2 usually entails a back seat that requires the passengers to be munchkins. In any other business this description would be challenged in court as patently untrue! And yet all that is needed to turn these torture chambers into seats you can actually sit in is a couple more inches of legroom. Most fancy 2+2 cars like Porsche 911 or Aston Martin DB9 seem to have less room than a Fiat 500! Yet these sleek machines are anything up to 185 inches long, so how can you not add 2 inches of leg room? Either just have a useful parcel-shelf that you can sling a handbag, briefcase or dog onto and make the car more compact, or have seats people can use. Right now these cubby holes masquerading as somewhere to sit just make what could be a small and nimble sports car longer for no reason.

..and another thing (continue to read this post)

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All posts in category: Travel/Nature

Anyone who yells “I know my rights”... invariably does not

Why...

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

Why...

Cover up! ...My wife, the sunscreen Nazi

Why...

Assume the position...

Why...

Why hasn’t Viagra saved the rhino?

Why...

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

Why...

Attention Airlines. I am not an egg. Please don’t poach me

Why...

Moving house... so time for an overseas trip or be admitted to hospital

Why...

Big brother is watching... while serving you bacon and eggs

Why...

?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? ?Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And auld lang syne. WTF does this actually mean..?

Why...

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

Why...

Your call is important to us... because we are charging you suckers $1 a minute to wait till we bother to answer

Why...

Oh, come on... what happens in Benidorm stays in Benidorm

Why...

It’s all about service

Why...

There ain’t no cure for the summertime blues

Why...

♫ I hear somethin' sayin'♪ Yumm, Yumm ♫That's the sound of the men eating in the chain ga-a-ang♪

Why...

Lost & Found… but we keep it anyway

Why...

Time for a World Summit

Why...

Slow, slow, quick quick, slow

Why...

YES, YES, YES… TWO MORE INCHES MAKES SUCH A DIFFERENCE

Why...