Halo Stickman

Mrs Stickman paid for me to see a cheap local shrink following a breakdown abroad. I poured out all of my troubles in one continuous ten-minute long rant, until finally the chap said something that stopped me dead in my tracks: Senor. Yo no hablo ingles.

Sorry Whitey, I haven't got the time for a long-winded chat – I'm too busy cutting out bloody stupid pointed arrows.

Careful Whitey - with lame humour like this, you and I are in danger of being employed by the Echo

Whats the Daily Echo? Whats the Daily Echo?

Is that all your own work, Bletch? It looks like a fun way to wile away the hours – I've been wondering what to do with my old books since I've gone kindleised.

Stand down Whitey, I was just punning on Whitey and Brownie - the colours, not the young girls in uniform!

How odd do you want me to be?

I've got just the place, PompeyLass! Custom has been a bit slow of late – just a few odd types hanging around the back, mainly. I could interview you in the car park tonight, if you're interested. Please.

The Old Farmhouse seems a decent boozer – although I'm a bit dubious about some of their recent clientele.

Where's Whitey when you need him?

Viewed in the light of the latest Savile revelations – regarding certain people being aware of his vile activities during his career – I find myself wondering whether there is more to Cliff Richard's records not being played by certain DJs and radio stations, other than the fact that they were, generally speaking, crap.

Sounds about par for the course – England debut in autumn, leave the next summer.

It's a good job you don't live in the UK and intend to have your last service at the local crematorium, Hamilton. I recently helped organise a funeral. We were allotted 30 minutes before they carried the next corpse in. By the time someone reads a eulogy, recites a poem, says a prayer and sings a hymn there isn't enough time left for a medley of the stiff's top 20 all-time favourite hits!

To answer the OP more seriously, I think Take My Hand by In Tua Nua strikes a suitably doleful funereal chord, if anyone likes that sort of thing.

The Drugs Don't Work – The Verve

When I was at the start of my drinking career, a pub quite near to where I lived served Mild at 10p a pint. Furthermore, one of the locals was a young woman who, in exchange for a couple of cigarettes, was more than happy to take regulars round the back for a blow-job. These are just two of the reasons why I preferred the 70s.

Lou, I can't speak for my fellow Muppets, nevertheless, I doubt that map-reading figures very prominently in anyone's definition of required skills for perfect women.

Yes, I can relate to that. Not the bit about mates telling me stuff after the fact, the bit about thinking 'oh Pap, you stupid bastard.' Sorry Pap – Bear's rubbing off on me in a bad way. Actually, I can relate to the first bit.

Even grubbier, at one point I suspected Bletch had come back as PompeyLass – that was until she mentioned her SO postcode, of course.

What a relief! I was worrying about you hanging around for days all alone in that godforsaken technology chat forum. Good to see you back, Bletch. Just try not to upset anyone for 5 minutes.

FFS Lou, just ask one of us out and have done with it!

Bucks, I feel honour-bound on behalf of my profession to state categorically that I've never met your ex-wife – well, at least, never face to face.

Quite! And be quick about it PompeyLass, I've got to get on with some work in a minute.

Speaking as a former engineer myself, I can confirm that 'engineer' and 'odd' are two words I've heard in tandem on more than one occasion, PompeyLass

Know what you mean, Bob. I wasn't aware that I was doing it so blatantly until one day, when I was quite a young chap, I walked into the secretarial bay at work and the girls, in synchronicity, held up cards to obscure their chests. Fortunately, we all had a good laugh about it, but it certainly drove home the message that I needed to do my ogling a little more discreetly in future.