Fowllyd

Do they write plays?

I'd have taken it back as soon as I saw it only had one sleeve.

A blue-footed booby displaying - feast your lecherous eyes. Red-footed booby and Nazca booby.

I believe Balti Stench uses it as a mark of approbation. I don't think he holds copyright though.

Try asparagus. That will do the job.

Oh yeah, I'd forgotten that one. A wobbly and a half he threw.

If it's 19C then he's discovered a whole new world of brevity - I don't think I remember him posting anything much less than an essay in any of his previous incarnations.

hedge

Ferrigno

An interesting snippet from that article: "Some remote villages in the world believe eggs up the rectum can cure most things." Now, I've been to a fair number of villages, some of them remote, but I've yet to hear one voice an opinion on the medical benefits of an egg up the arse. Or on any anything much else, come to that.

Superb. Witty, funny and inarguable.

Buick

I'm employed to cuddle people in cinema foyers. It's very rewarding work, even though the pay isn't great.

I rather think that's down to Balti Stench, as he created us all. But maybe, just maybe, with one mighty Descartian bound, we can at last be free. We think, therefore... Actually, I may need more time to get to grips with this thinking malarkey - it's harder than you'd think.

In fairness, I can only claim to know the denizens of TMS in my own imagination - and then only when the medication loosens its grip between doses. But believe me Lou, what I see there is not pretty (present interlocutor excepted, of course). Do they - or we - exist at all? Perhaps one day, if the door is left unguarded, I may find out. On the other hand, I'm not at all sure that I really want to know. I sometimes think that we've all been invented by Saint Bletch for his own amusement (see also Flann O'Brien's novel 'At Swim-Two-Birds'). His frenzied subconscious drives him to create ever more homunculi, with names ever more resistant to an easy anagram. When his subconscious creates a name from which no anagram can be made, it will complete its triumph over his conscious mind, Then, and only then, will we, the oppressed artefacts of TMS, be able to rise up and destroy Bletch, after which - well, I'm not altogether sure what will happen at this point. Actually, now I come to think of it, we may have to exist in the real world, after all these years spent in the cocoon-like warmth and security of Bletch's id. Jean-Paul Sartre would hate me for this, but I think maybe we should just stay as we are.

Lou, take a look at the men on TMS (not literally of course, that would be horrible. Well, it would in my case). We judge by our own standards - how can we possibly be expected to know what normality looks like, or if it even exists?

Hi Colin, Do you mind if I call you Colin? I don't want to appear overly familiar, but as it seems that there's been something going on between us perhaps I shouldn't stress about it. Anyway, I have to admit that I feel overwhelmed by the force of your devastating logic; so much so, in fact, that I am starting to suspect that you may actually be MLG in disguise. Which, in and of itself, requires me to suspect that MLG is in fact a hirsute trucker from Swansea called Colin. Frankly, I'm finding this hard to live with. Best wishes and big sloppy kisses, Fowllyd

I seem to have joined this thread a tad late - I have a good reason, but I certainly can't be arsed sharing it with you lot. Anyways, congratters to Tokyo and commiserations to humanity. Should the child be a boy dog, I'd like to suggest Labi as a fine name, both in homage to Mr Siffre and as a nod to the mother. Should it be a girl then Daisy would be my choice - I know a very nice Labrador of that name (though not, I would stress, in the biblical sense). As to the weight, I think 7lb 11oz.

You're right. I've just woken up and there's some bloke called Bobby Ewing in the shower.

I doubt Tubbs would be owed anything much by Bournemouth - maybe the odd loyalty bonus or whatever, but that wouldn't amount to a great deal, and certainly not as much as a transfer fee. And surely one of the other clubs trying to sign him must have been offering Bournemouth a fee? Of course, if Bournemouth were simply looking to release him on a free to get an additional squad place and trim their wage bill a little, the whole thing makes more sense - and it's probably safe to say that Pompey were the highest bidder in terms of contract and salary. Same old same old it seems.

Fish

Or 'compus mentus' instead of 'compos mentis' perhaps?

I'm really not sure what you're getting at here, Balti - nor why you've misquoted me in this odd way. A check on my original post will show beyond any possible doubt that my puzzlement was down the non-existence of any putative question 12, not any query as to its results. Buttered be my bread, and verily do I know upon which side.

I think it only right that I should thank my devoted followers for their votes - a massive thank you to Sid and Doris Bonkers, plus whoever the hell else cast a vote in my direction. I would say that I feel truly and deeply humbled, but that would be a lie. Surprised at getting more than no votes at all I most certainly do feel. I liked the "What's on your mind?" bit of the voting form; there were some very fine answers there. Maybe it should have been made mandatory. Then again, that would have meant that Bearsy and Tokes would have had to answer it. Finally, I have to admit that I am more puzzled than somewhat by Balti Stench's reference to a question 12 in his original post. It is perfectly clear that there never was, nor is, nor will be any question 12. Only the likes of pap could think otherwise.