All posts in category: Work

Your grobulator is not in sync with your doo-hickey

July 11, 2021
Friends Kids/Family/Relations Technology Uncategorised Work
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Why...

Do I have to listen to drivel? Jargon is really a verbal hedge professionals hide behind... waiting to jump out and financially mug you. The truth is most businesses are not that complex, but to make everyone think someone has an IQ the size of a planet, people make up complex words (acronyms if in the Army) that no one understands. Never let a simple word stand in the way of a complex one, especially if as a lawyer you can charge £500 an hour to explain it.

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The only time it is acceptable to wear a tag is on your toe in the morgue

Why...

Do people dress like they are an advertising billboard?

If you have to yell at people you are wearing a Dolce and Gabbana top, a Gucci jacket, Louis Vuitton bag or La Perla knickers you must be more insecure than a Labour candidate in an upcoming U.K. by-election.

Not only are you insulting the intelligence of those around you, you broadcasting that you are a tasteless oaf to those within 50 yards of you.

From the designers point of view they cannot believe their luck. Here they are charging like the Light Brigade at $250 for a T shirt that cost them less than $5, and their high end and sometime influencer clientele is advertising the fact for free!

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Do I get loyalty points if I have to quarantine for two weeks in a hotel?

February 7, 2021
Fasion Health & Beauty Kids/Family/Relations Sex Sport Work
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Why...

Not get some benefit from being locked in a gilded cage for a fortnight?

Now I understand many of you might think two weeks in quarantine in a Premier Inn in Wigan might just be a first world complaint. However, that will only be from people who have never experienced a wet Wednesday in Wigan in February. For those who have, it’s the closet thing to purgatory outside of having to watch endless repeats of the Wheel of Fortune with someone who constantly shouts out the wrong answers.

It troubles me that you can tip out of your first class seat at Heathrow and end up locked in some orange and beige nightmare in Brentford for two weeks instead of your normal sojourn at The Ritz. I hear the allocation of the actual quarantine hotel is luck of the draw. That clearly can not be true. There must be a fiddle somewhere. I just don’t believe you might end up in a magnificent palace with a suite large enough to have a croquet tournament or a hutch so small a mouse with a hard on could not turn around. Does anyone have the skinny on how to get a decent allocation?

And what do you do for two weeks? Do you end up tapping morse code on the walls with your jailed neighbour? Maybe fling open the curtains and scream out the window like Peter Finch in Network, “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this anymore.” Or would that mean the boys in blue come around and lock you in an even tinier cell instead?

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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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If I come to a meeting with clean fingernails and polished shoes, don’t kid yourself, it’s not for you. I have writer’s block

February 3, 2020
Entertainment/Media/Arts Friends Life Technology Uncategorised Work
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Why...

Is writing for me sometimes a pleasure and at others a chore? Today I needed to get on with the follow up to my debut thriller Fall Out, called The Bastion. But as is often the case, I am stuck. Of course it’s not directly my fault. My Muse must have deserted me for someone more worthy, or the moon is aligned in such a way that my creative juices are drier than a cinnamon stick. Whatever the cause, anything is better than staring at a blank keyboard. I have just polished all my shoes. Nothing. So polished my belts as well. Still just white noise in my head rather than a new character or plot twist. Cut my nails, tweaked out nose hair, squeezed a few back heads. Zero. I even slung an angry riposte to some fool on Facebook. Still zip. The fool on Facebook made me laugh though. After a fatuous and totally incorrect comment about deer culling that I refuted with an article from the left leaning The Guardian entitled, We must kill Bambi. Why deer culling is a no brainer the response was: “Who asked you for your opinion anyway. Fuck off.” The irony of not understanding when you put your own opinion out into a public forum, by definition invites a response, says a lot about the lack of debate in our social media age. Most bloggers just want their voice heard, not challenged. It’s me me me on a platform that is marketed as us us us! If I actually understood the origami that is ironing, I might even see if I could attack the pile of shirts that need attention. Tonight we are due out to dinner and I will be as well manicured as a teenager trying to take out the preacher man’s daughter. My host will take it as a compliment. But for me it will be as if Samuel Taylor Coleridge himself had hung the albatross around my neck.

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I wish you all a Happy New Year... now here’s something to add a little sparkle!

January 8, 2020
Entertainment/Media/Arts Kids/Family/Relations Travel/Nature Work
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Why...

I have thoroughly enjoyed writing this blog over the past four years. My close friends were relieved as it stopped me sending them endless emails on my observations of the day and gave me a platform to pontificate to a wider audience. My secret passion (well the one I’m prepared to discuss in public) is writing. So in addition to the blog, I rolled up my sleeves, shut the door and wrote a book. My debut thriller FALL OUT launches in May and pre-sales are now available on Amazon both in the UK and USA. It is the first in a franchise of thrillers set in the film industry. My target is 5,000 pre-orders which kicks it into bestseller territory. FALL OUT An LA screenwriter is killed shortly after completing his latest script, FALL OUT - a thriller destined to be a blockbuster but written with a secret double purpose. Echoing events from the past the screenplay is sent to a very specific group of people and will change their lives forever. All are connected to a movie that had abruptly stopped shooting in the jungles of the Philippines years before. FALL OUT exposes the truth about a conspiracy and murder that led to a half-a-billion-dollar fortune for a select few. Follow the story of Producer Marcus Riley, who sets out on an increasingly dangerous quest to get FALL OUT made. From a powerful agent’s office in Hollywood, hidden treasures in Belgravia and a remote chalet in the Swiss Alps to murder at the Cannes Film Festival, Marcus teams up with designer Melinda (Mako) de Turris as they and the other recipients of the screenplay are pursued by an assassin from the past. With clues cleverly concealed in the screenplay, Marcus and Mako unravel a lethal puzzle that for some will bring death, others the truth and ends in a cave with a shocking secret..... If you have enjoyed the blog and fancy something longer than just a paragraph or two now is your chance! Click here for Amazon UK book location Click here for Amazon US book location

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The Grand old Duke of York

Why...

Does arrogance always trump common sense? I rarely write about “moments du jour”, that is what editorial in journals and newspapers are for but... I have never watched anything so toe-curlingly embarrassingly thermonuclear-awful as Prince Andrew’s performance on his recent interview with the BBC. Forget about when Pat Nixon (wife of President Nixon and accused of taking bribes) cried on TV that she never had a fur coat, only a good Republican tweed one, or Jimmy Swaggart blubbing from the pulpit begging forgiveness and swearing he is off hookers and cocaine for life...until the following week. It made Sarah Palin’s comment that she knows about Russia coz she can see it from Alaska look positively electrifyingly brilliant. Prince Andrew’s performance was a televisual feast of what not to do. No sympathy for victims, laughable excuses for staying in Epstein’s house for five days, just to tell him their friendship is over, that our hero can’t sweat from a condition from being shot at in the Falklands War, he never noticed girls running about any of Epstein’s houses because he never notices staff. The problem is he is just so honourable! Andrew has managed to take what was a bubbling under story into being front page news for five days worldwide. 6% of viewers believed him! He has lost a ton of sponsors to his charities, asked to not be Patron anymore to others and as I write agreed to step back from Public Life for the time being. Furthermore, he has pushed the FBI closer to feeling his collar, all because his self belief rode roughshod over other people’s advice. His actual defence is his arrogance and self belief mixed with a confidence he can wing an interview against a real pro. Prince Andrew is his own perfect storm. An IQ rating the same number as his shoe size but thinks he is the smartest man in the room All the on screen charm of a traffic warden with halitosis and as pompous as a Maitre D in an overpriced restaurant Non-existent sympathy for Epstein’s real victims. Indeed he is trying to make himself the victim! I suspect when Prince Charles eventually takes over, a ten year posting to Tristan de Cunha (a remote British atoll in the South Atlantic) will be next on Andrew’s CV.

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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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To serve you better it just means do it yourself

Why...

Has the concept of service become a lost art and rarer than a redneck with all his teeth? It is an anomaly that we live in an age with every company, from car insurance to incontinence pads, to mobile phone providers, shouting about service, yet not really giving any. Customer Service is on life support. You can experience its death throws in shop assistants who don’t look up when you approach them, people who leave you on hold for a couple of millennia, to being rebuked for misplacing a dry-cleaning ticket etc. Top of the list of people I would like to recommend a visit to the vivisectionist are restauranteurs who present you with sliding scale charges. These starting at (clearly in their opinion a mean and piffly) 15% via 20% to clearly a justifiable 25%. Add VAT at 20% and before you have so much as nibbled a grissini stick nearly half your bill has been swallowed by tax and services. I appreciate waiters are underpaid but for the life of me I cannot understand why this extra is simply not built into the bill. It’s not as if you can order a meal without a waiter. Seems as basic a requirement in a restaurant as food and a chef. If I have received spectacular service, I leave an amount at my discretion. It’s never a percentage that I have been nudged into paying because it’s printed out and therefore looks official. It’s usually a few pound notes rounded up or down as I see fit.

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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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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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I can happily eat quiche, but will never be seen wearing sandals or carrying a manbag

March 29, 2019
Animals/Pets Fasion Health & Beauty Life Work
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Why...

Do some men allow themselves such sartorial sins that they verge on crimes against humanity? The disappearance of men in sandals was one of the few blessings of the Dark Ages. And yet there seems to be a renaissance of this fashion disaster made worse by the adoption of wearing these atrocities with white socks. Who on earth outside mung-bean-eating tree-huggers thinks this footwear is acceptable? Puh-lease don’t bleat they are good for walking. They are not. All they do is present lunch to various ants, centipedes and any other carnivore creepy crawlies. Unlike ladies dainty tootsies, men’s hooves are unsightly things that should not be exposed... mine are known to scare children and horses.

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If you don’t want to do it, screw up badly ... once

Why...

Do people moan about doing things they hate? Don’t like washing up? Drop a few tea-cups or leave a couple of cornflakes welded to a plate. Hate spring cleaning? Dribble drops of eggshell enamel onto the dog’s head. My father, when asked to change his first nappy (and they were toweling ones back in the day) gagged at the smell then promptly flushed waste and nappy down the loo. He blocked the drains for an entire apartment block and was forbidden from ever changing my diapers again. Result! At school I found playing cricket matches a waste of four sunny afternoon hours. Dragooned into playing against another school because I was a half decent bowler, I swapped the ball for a tomato. Splat! Cricket whites covered in red spots. I was called to the housemaster, told I was a disgrace to the school and as punishment I would never be allowed to play cricket again. It took the acting skills of De Niro to look thoroughly upset, rather than punch the air for joy.

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Oscar night.....just has me riveted to my seat

Why...

Give a damn about the Oscars? The whole thing has got further up its arse than a proctologist’s middle finger. No one cares, because the last decade’s nominated movies are quasi arthouse that do not resonate with the audience. In an attempt to show making movies is really all abaht aaaart, dahling, the Academy has recently become all coy about nominating truly mass appeal movies. And who was responsible for this sudden fit of hubris, a desire to show a more cultured less crass side of the entertainment industry? A man imbued with a strong sense of the aspirations of the pinnacle of quality and not our baser instincts; Harvey Weinstein. Pay attention Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. You want to know why the Oscar shindig is as exciting as watching toast getting cold? Try looking at the movies you allow to get nominated....let alone win! The last ten years’ winners were , LaLa Land, Moonlight, Spotlight, Birdman, 12 Years a Slave, Argo, The Artist, The King’s Speech, The Hurt Locker, Slumdog Millionaire. I can barely remember what most of these are about? They may be worthy but are minnows compared with the 1970’s. The winners that decade were: Patton, The French Connection, The Godfather, The Sting, The Godfather Part II, One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest, Rocky, Annie Hall, The Deer Hunter, Kramer vs Kramer. You’ve probably seen them all, and I can pretty clearly remember the stories even though released 40-50 years ago. US viewer audience for 1970 Oscars 55.2 million. US viewer audience last year, 26.5 million The only thing that sank faster was The Titanic (one of the last broad appeal movies to win back in 1997/8). I am pretty certain neither Rocky, Patton nor The Sting if made now, would even be nominated. So dear fellows and voters of the Academy, try and remember you are in the ENTERTAINMENT Industry. Get back to your roots and out of your ego. Start nominating movies that mean something to the general public and they might watch the awards!

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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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Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder... ...how the f*#k you got it!

July 20, 2018
Animals/Pets Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Work
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Why...

Are stars listed for goods and services that mean utter bullsh*t? Let’s start with the supernova of stars, the seven star hotels in the Gulf. According to the Hotel Star Registry, there is no such thing as a seven star hotel. Well guys, I hate to tell you, the Burg al-Arab boasts them. Hard to miss it. It’s the third highest building in the world. The fact no one challenges this self aggrandising nonsense is a clear example of how the rating system is abused globally. Technically I believe the star rating system was started by the Forbes Travel Guide, formerly Mobil Travel Guide, which launched its star rating system in 1958. The AAA and their affiliated bodies use diamonds instead of stars to express hotel and restaurant ratings levels. However, although many countries have legal requirements for star designation, others do not. This makes a mockery of the whole system. A four star hotel in say London or New York is in a different league to one in some islands in Southern Europe or Africa. To qualify to be five star you need to have shops on hand available to buy essentials. However there is nothing to say a vending machine would meet that requirement... and in some countries they do! In China saunas and spas are not a requirement to get five stars but a room to play cards and mahjong is! In Mongolia I assume you need somewhere to tether your Yak whereas in London it’s an underground car park.

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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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There are only two things I dislike about you... your face.

Why...

Not admit it. A sprinkling of hypocrisy adds spice to life. It’s the one time us mortals feel superior to those meant to be our elders and betters. Rumours abound that after playing arenas in the US, rather than diving into a mound of cocaine and groupies in their bedroom suites, certain Dinosaurs of Rock head out to the airport and a private jet to make sure they never spend a night in the USA... all to avoid tax. Very spirit of Woodstock! It even appears from the Paradise Papers that the saintly Bono may have feet of clay... that he no doubt leases back to himself to avoid Value Added Tax. I commented a couple of weeks ago on the squeals of surprise from industry bigwigs over the Harvey Weinstein revelations. This week in the wink of an eye Netflix have disowned Kevin Spacey for alleged serial behavior they of course knew nothing about....despite working cheek by jowl over several years! They did however know House of Cards had been instrumental in their growth into a media behemoth. And yet I can’t help having a sneaking admiration for those who so blatantly do not practice what they preach. Armstrong’s filmed condemnation of the use of drugs in sport is a truly Academy Award Winning performance. Knowing that Tax and Finance Ministers have secret bank offshore bank accounts, Televangelists get filmed in orgies and fitness trainer’s washboard stomachs are from liposuction, makes people in authority less terrifying. Next time you are in front of a male judge imagine under that wig and robes are fishnet stockings and six inch Manolo Blahniks. Then he ain’t quite so intimidating.

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What's wrong with a stereotype?

July 27, 2017
Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Work
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Why...

Is there such an outcry about gender stereotypes in advertising? Clichés in advertising either make me howl with laughter or throw things. In either case they have the opposite effect on what the advertiser wants therefore they are just bad campaigns. However a targeted market may contain a stereotype and these can be very good campaigns. And as we know, today's cutting edge is tomorrow's stereotype. Have you watched the iconic ‘I'd like to teach the world to sing’ Coke add recently? It makes your teeth itch it's so clichéd. The opposite of an advertising gender stereotype is a gender A-typical stereotype…which by definition is niche. Last time I checked, advertising either wants to reinforce its brand to its core buyer or take its competitors, not worry about niche. Yes of course there are boys who play with dolls, men who enjoy catalogue shopping or talk to strangers while having a pee; even women who hunt bears or smell their socks before throwing them in the laundry basket. Just because these groups exist why is a Marketing Executive made to feel guilty about an advertising campaign that gives him the biggest bang for his buck and does not address small groups? "I'm awfully sorry Mr. CEO for spending a zillion £,€,$ or ¥ on a campaign for washing up liquid aimed at bricklayers. But research shows 3.267549% wash dishes too you know and some are keen to have soft hands." This nonsense is spouted by people who have no common sense. They are just incensed. In the interest of being more inclusive to minorities may I suggest their views should only be reported for six months in niche periodicals like the Newt Lover's Gazette, The Macramé Times or Morris Dancer's Today to reach those people who might be interested in their message but not read national newspapers, listen to the radio or watch TV?

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The Digital Water Cooler and the End of Suburbia

Why...

Actually go to work? As some of you know, a while back I hightailed it out of the UK to settle in Malta. Contrary to popular belief this was not to retire and endlessly gargle drinks with little umbrellas in them and discuss the good old days with expats and people in Witness Protection. It was to set up a digital business; a revolutionary App that makes language learning fun. LingoZING! (www.lingozing.com) uses the visual storytelling of digital comics and graphic novels with an interactive multi language interface. Basically you can hear and read in two languages switching between the two with an onscreen slider. The actual App goes live in January 2017 but you can get a glimpse on Kickstarter, https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/446245694/lingozing-the-fun-way-to-learn-a-language?ref=recommended) One of the early meetings with a friend (and now investor) started with: "Why should I invest in a company whose people are spread across the globe like so many ticks on a dog's back?" "Coz these ticks bite 18 hours a day, " I snapped back faster than knicker elastic. You see we have a team in Bulgaria, two of us are in Malta, the CFO in South Africa, the CTO in San Diego and marketing people in the USA, France and Brazil. So in the highly unlikely event of anyone working only eight hours, there is someone working 18 out of 24 hours a day. That's pretty impressive for a start up with low overheads. We of course are not the only disparate group of people all bound by the same digital umbilical cord rather than being anchored to the office water fountain. Connectivity comes from phone, email, SMS, Skype or Zoom. However I feel no less of a homogenous whole than if we were all crammed into expensive office space. In fact it's better. Sure occasionally you take a Skype call at a ridiculous time in the night with a shirt and tie on top but still in dressed below in sweat pants! I have no commute and the coffee is excellent. My computer screen is the Alice Through the Looking Glass that binds me to my friends and colleagues.

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

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All posts in category: Work

Your grobulator is not in sync with your doo-hickey

Why...

The only time it is acceptable to wear a tag is on your toe in the morgue

Why...

Do I get loyalty points if I have to quarantine for two weeks in a hotel?

Why...

Duck it; shot happens

Why...

If I come to a meeting with clean fingernails and polished shoes, don’t kid yourself, it’s not for you. I have writer’s block

Why...

I wish you all a Happy New Year... now here’s something to add a little sparkle!

Why...

The Grand old Duke of York

Why...

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

Why...

To serve you better it just means do it yourself

Why...

Assume the position...

Why...

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

Why...

I can happily eat quiche, but will never be seen wearing sandals or carrying a manbag

Why...

If you don’t want to do it, screw up badly ... once

Why...

Oscar night.....just has me riveted to my seat

Why...

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

Why...

Twinkle, twinkle, little star How I wonder... ...how the f*#k you got it!

Why...

Time for a World Summit

Why...

There are only two things I dislike about you... your face.

Why...

What's wrong with a stereotype?

Why...

The Digital Water Cooler and the End of Suburbia

Why...