Is this the worst film ever?

Don't worry, I don't plan on watching it, but 2pm on Five:

Baby Geniuses 2

The listings describe it as "zany," and then award it one star.

Ten things you don't need to know

The BBC magazine has started listing Ten Things We Didn't Know Last Week. Let's take a look at their list and offer a few thoughts of our own:

1. Nicolas Sarkozy collects stamps.

Isn't he busy enough?

2. Doodling aids memory.

While actually taking notes does the opposite, trust me.

3. Peanut allergies have trebled in the last decade.

So, judging by the press coverage, have incidents of peanut smuggling.

4. Wendy Richard was in Up Pompeii

This is a difficult one. I could say either a) Now she's in Up the Khyber or b) Now she's in Six Feet Under, but these would be tasteless remarks so instead I will just say c) Duh.

5. The biggest underground machine in the world mines salt in Cheshire.

a) That's their story and they're sticking with it. b) The badger population in Cheshire has a dangerously high rate of heart disease and the government must act now.

6. There are two types of intelligence.

As readers of this blog are all too aware.

7. About 1,000 people in the UK lose their voice box annually.

I cannot work out if these means that the same 1,000 people lose their voice box once a year, or if every year 1,000 new people lose their voice box. Either way, it's a good thing as it stops them calling phone-in radio shows.

8. Hitler spared Blackpool because he wanted to use it as his personal playground.

This explains absolutely everything.

9. Fleeces were part of the acid house scene in the 1980s.

I'm not sure what this is supposed to make me think, but so far it's nothing. So what?

10. Rio has a Sambadrome.

Then let's all go to Rio.

In homage to my mate Will Butterworth

I proudly present Sun Ra:

My dad

thinks he's doing his bit for the environment by eating burnt toast.

Thought for the day

There once was a man named Gandhi
He woke up one day with a dandy
He said to his aide fetch me a maid, or a goat, or anything handy

Ryanair

Now officially taking the piss.

Bring me my spear! (o, 'clouds' unfold...)

Women demand all-day session; man wins wager; and death-in-the-sack no longer the preserve of the elderly.

What's not good about this story?

This explains everything

Apologies to all who've seen this before, but I got my first glimpse last night (thanks to my tecchie cousin) and it's too good not to share.

The original Microsoft team, circa 1978:


Bill Gates, bottom left hand corner.

Best & Worst Lyrics (All Time)

I hope this topic'll prove an ongoing thang, but while I'm thinking about it, I just want to offer my two centimes on the hugely important issue of which are the best and the worst lyrics of all time.

As is the rule with this blog, my primary reason for doing this is because I was just having a jolly confab about this very subject in which I dug up some pretty decent answers, and I figured I'd forget them by this evening if I didn't write them down somewhere. And seeing as how I am already drowning under a Kilimanjaro of notes right now (none of which I seem to be able to get into any sort of order) I couldn't think of a better place than right here on the Amnesiac Thingamajig.

So, without further ado, here are my initial public offerings:

WORST LYRIC OF ALL TIME:

My diamonds are reckless
Feels like a midget is hangin' from my necklace.

- Ludakris, Stand Up

BEST LYRIC OF ALL TIME:

I said, do you speak-a my language?
He just smiled and gave me a vegemite sandwich.

- Men At Work, Down Under

BONUS LYRIC:

We dont wipe our asses on Old Glory,
God and Lone Star beer are things we trust.
We keep our women virgins till they're married
So hosin' sheep is good enough for us.

- Kinky Friedman, Asshole from El Paso

Overheard at the Coliseum

"As someone once said of Harrison Birtwistle, it's just one fucking passacaglia after another."

Ponce.

My Shakespeare brings all the boys to the bard

Interview with Edward Hall, director of the Propeller (all-male, Shakespeare-only) ensemble.

KaBOOM!

Interview with Penny Woolcock, director of Doctor Atomic.

Incidence of RAPE at all-time high in City.

Dear employees,

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown of economy, Management has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 40 years of age and above on early retirement. This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retire Aged People Early).

Persons selected to be RAPED can apply to management to be eligible for the SHAFT scheme (Special Help After Forced Termination). Persons who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will be reviewed under the SCREW programme (Scheme Covering Retired Early Workers). A person may be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice and SCREWED as many times as Management deems appropriate.

Persons who have been RAPED can only get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependants & Spouse) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance).

Obviously persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTED or SCREWED any further by Management.

Persons who are not RAPED and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. Management has always prided itself on the amount of SHIT it gives employees. Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring to the attention of your Supervisor. They have been trained to give you all the SHIT you can get.

Thank you for your attention on this issue,

Management.

[Thanks to KJW]

And another thing...

If black soul singers are supposed to be so bloody sensitive, why do they persistently address their bitches as 'woman'?

(cf. 'If You Don't Know Me By Now' - Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes)

Humming, Singing, Tooting.

A coffee shop in SW London.

They are playing Worst EVER (Out-Of-Date) Love Ballads 9.

A woman at a nearby table proceeds hum her way through the entirety of 'Every Breath You Take'.

Overheard at The Wigmore Hall

- Remember me?
- No.
- You buried my mother-in-law.

Priceless.

"You can take the boy out of Devon.

You can even take Devon out of the boy.

What you can't do is take one Devon boy out of the other."

- G Rhydian Morgan

For the record

There exists, in this country, a Lesbian And Gay Immigration Group.

There is also a Seafood Choices Alliance.

I know this because I was out last night, drinking with their legal advisor.

Yes, one legal advisor. For both groups.

My dad

is cleaning his car before he takes it to the garage to be cleaned.

A final word to my fellow amnesiac before I stick two biros up my nostrils and slam my head down against my desk

This is from 'America the Beautiful', a post-election column by Louise J. Esterhazy, found on the back page of the January edition of W magazine (for the record, Ms. Esterhazy's prominent monthly column is called 'Last Laugh'):

"But American politics isn't really my bag, especially since I'm am old Austrian Countess..."

Clearly, this is where we went wrong, compadre. We were never old Austrian countesses.

A literary exchange

As transpired this lunchtime, via text message:

Dominic Hilton: I think I need a lesson in how to organise all my notes into something semi-coherent. Any tips?

ASH Smyth: A metal bin, and a match.

Professional advice

The problem with a career in the arts is that people make out like if you just throw enough spaghetti against the wall something will eventually stick.

What they don't tell you is that most of the time you won't be able to afford any spaghetti.

Dom's bird, and other mannequins

Biblical advice.

Freaky

What's a bloke s'posed to do when he mistakes a mannequin for his girlfriend?

Last night, staggering through the streets of Mayfair and Marylebone at 4am, I turned the corner off Oxford Street into Duke Street, and very nearly jumped out of my moisturised skin.

There, standing in the window display of French Connection, was an almost exact replica of my girlfriend. After taking several minutes to establish that it wasn't actually her (by asking that cunning question about Babe Ruth that the Yanks used to use to catch enemy spies) I took a picture:


Except perhaps for the height (my bird is taller), and the fact that my girlfriend has softer skin (and is generally a little less hollow when you knock her), the similarity really is uncanny (right down to the cream Cons). Plus, when I showed her the picture this morning, the tease just raised her eyebrows at me and handed me a cup of coffee, which I frankly found hugely unnerving.

I suspect that she's up to something (she keeps giving me those odd sideways glances that pretty girls excel at). And call me old-fashioned, but I really don't want her knowing that I prowl the streets at night, turning tricks. All told, she's a naive little thing, and as far as I know she still labours under the illusion that I'm a hotshot writer. And in the immortal words of Paul Simon: Who am I to blow against the wind?

If you're in London...

be damn sure to go here:


Order the Parrillada Deluxe (with extra black pudding), down a Fernet (if you can stand it), glug gallons of Quilmes, a good Malbec, port, sambuca and at least one espresso, then stagger out into the delights of Hackney, nurse your hangover the next day with hot and sour pho, follow with a few rounds of Guinness and Jose Cuervo, soak up with sashimi and Kirin, then get jiggy to Aretha, Stevie, James Brown and co. on Fosters, Peroni and vodka and soda until your knees give way.

You cannot go wrong. Check it out:



www.buenayre.co.uk

Recommended reading (and free)

Five Dials, issue 5, out now.

Headlines

Brings a whole new meaning to 'vicarious pleasures'.

Friday Joke

A teacher is instructing her primary 2 class, and she's telling them that the word of the day is 'contagious.'

She asks if anyone can use this word in a sentence, and several students raise their hands. "Carl," she says. Carl says, "My dad told me to stay away from kids with mumps because they're contagious." "Very good," says the teacher.

Then she picks Suzie, who says, "My granny says there is a bug going round and it is contagious." The teacher says, "Excellent, Suzie!"

Then she notices that little Johnny has his hand up at the back of the class. "Yes, Johnny?" Johnny says, "The other day, I was speaking to my Dad who had hired a fella to paint the fence. He arrived with a tiny little 4cm paintbrush, and he was going in tiny little strokes up and down the fence, and my dad says to me, 'Jesus, it's gonna take that contagious to finish that fence.'

[Thanks to JB]

James-Bond-u-like

Walter Mitty-style character said he was a secret agent sent to save girlfriend

and other chat-up lines I've never tried...

No, seriously: I haven't.

Who guards the Garde?

The Ballad of Prawo Jazdy

or quis custodiet dipsos custodies? - as they say in Cork.

There's something not quite right about these paragraphs: 2

For instance, they're not actually the ones I wrote.

Interview with Dambisa Moyo, economist and African aid nay-sayer, butchered by the OT editorial staff.*

--
* The piece, not Ms Moyo.

In our experience, this approach works about fifteen per cent of the time

As the results were delivered, 31-year-old Blomberg joked, "But the two most beautiful points remain with me" and grabbed at 28-year-old Bersin's chest.

There's something not quite right about these paragraphs

British children are more financially aware than their parents were at their age, a study suggests.

The Populus poll of 1,400 people for personal finance charity pfeg found 10-year-olds were shopping online using their parents' debit or credit cards. (BBC)

British politics explained

There's stuff I disagree with (or am confused by) in this article - and I imagine my fellow amnesiac is outright banned from agreeing with it on any level, what with his 'fight for Queen and country' armed forces stuff - but Monbiot actually sums it up pretty well right here:

One of the peculiarities of UK politics is that issues supported by hardly anyone receive majority assent in parliament. In the current system, no popular support is required. University top-up fees, for example, were rejected by the Scottish and Welsh assemblies, but Scottish and Welsh MPs were frogmarched through the lobbies to impose them on England (the government won by five votes). Foundation hospitals were voted down in both Wales and Scotland, and foisted on the English by the representatives of those nations. Had Heathrow's third runway been debated only by English MPs, the proposal would have been resoundingly defeated; it was approved by 19 votes, after 67 MPs from the other nations were induced to support the government. They can support such measures without any electoral risk, as their constituents are not directly affected.

Amnesiac interpretation: We are being royally rogered, if you consider the whole Crown-in-Parliament thing.*

*This is a really annoying clever-dick joke for which I humbly apologise.**
**I also never use the word 'humbly'.***
***And what's with all the footnotes? I'm turning into my fellow amnesiac.

Eh?

When men are shown images of women in bikinis, the part of the brain they use when thinking about DIY tools and other objects lights up.

Bollocks!

They sold it. We're gonna have to fink of summink else, innit.

I know, I've met some of my fellow amnesiac's former squeezes

Alien life 'may exist among us'

Key para:

Our planet may harbour forms of "weird life" unrelated to life as we know it, according to Professor Paul Davies, a physicist at Arizona State University.

Key quotes:

"We don't have to go to other planets to find weird life.

"It could be right in front of our noses - or even in our noses."

The sin of wages

"My friend is looking for someone to write up a mini pack to send out to schools on the play King and Country. He needs ten pages and will pay. Will find out how much - was def over fifty pounds, from memory."

Shakespeare wrote for money, Shakespeare wrote for money, Shakespeare wrote for money...

"All the notes, all night."

As heard on Classicfm:

"And now, on The Complete Works programme, the Overture from Bernstein's Candide."

Idiots.

Literary echoes

"The libertine garb conceals a higher morality."

- Umberto Eco, 'Granita', Misreadings

Perhaps meant ironically; not that it matters.

My fellow amnesiac has been AWOL these past few days

and now we know why.

p.s. While you're out there, bring us back some of those delicious hash cakes, will you? Cheers, mate.

I just love waking up

to this sort of breaking news:

Nuclear subs 'collide in ocean'

Most alarming revelation of the day so far

According to Ian Bell, Kevin Pieterson owns a hoodie made from lion skin.

Most alarming paragraph of the day so far

A rule change would allow women to compete in heavyweight wrestling and men in synchronised swimming. (BBC)

Be my Valentine?

Provincial matineés

By phone

Press lady: "Why don't we meet in the foyer? Do you have any distinguishing features?"

Your critic: "I'm under 70."

ATTENTION ALL PERVERTS

Valentine's special: Only $50 to watch animals having sex

(Thanks to Frank, who didn't say if he has tickets)

Thought for the day

The naughty ol' Sappho of Greece
Said, "What I prefer to a piece
Is to have my pudenda
Massaged by the tenda
Pink tongue of my favourite niece.

- George Holbert Tucker*

*As seen in the opening pages of Steppin' on a Rainbow by Kinky Friedman

Musicians: deviants all.

With keyboard accompaniment?! The mind reels.

From this week's New Yorker

"The worst checking error is calling people dead who are not dead."

- John McPhee

Prob'ly a breach of basic etiquette, too...

Egg on their boffin faces

I don't understand science. And I don't just mean because I spent more time laughing at how my physics teacher, Mr. Dove, wore a polka dot bra under his Burton's short-sleeved shirt than I did listening to whatever it was he was saying through his beard about quantum mechanics and ticker tape machines.

No, I don't understand science because for a discipline that (unlike mine) relies so heavily on raw provable data, it is so obviously a specious load of horseshit. (Seriously, I checked, even going so far as to run a series of control experiments in bed this morning.)

Take eggs. For years we've been told that eggs are bad for us. Eggs are bad for us, we were told, because they raised our cholesterol levels. Sounds reasonable enough, right? I mean, when it comes right down to it, a raw egg even looks like a bunch of cholesterol in a shell-casing.

Well, no, actually, because now scientists are telling us they'd got it all wrong. Apparantly, eggs AREN'T bad for us, and they certainly do not raise our cholesterol levels.

Admittedly, this is just today's nutritional volte-face - tomorrow they'll be telling us wholegrain rice causes ingrowing toenails. But seriously, to ask the obvious question: HOW THE HELL COULD THEY HAVE ONLY JUST REALISED THIS? How is it that they (by which I mean, science morons in polka dot bras) could've come to the wrong (for now) conclusions about eggs for the past fifty sodding years? How bloody difficult is it to determine if eggs boost cholesterol?

I often wonder what exactly science has contributed to the past fifty years. Penicillin was discovered by accident, and yet that really was the last major achievement to come out of a laboratory - unless you count the 'genius' invention of the atom bomb ("Hey guys! I've invented a way to wipe out all of humanity! Let's celebrate in the pub!"). Since the penicillin mistake, we've pretty much invented nothing that will cure anything. Brilliant.

So this is why I've never really understood those who marvel at science. Computers are really not impressive, people (see here for an incisive investigation of this claim). And even if they were, Windows 2000 is hardly enough to justify all this unwavering faith in science and its big-breasted practitioners. I mean, come on! They've only just noticed that eggs aren't bad for you? To ask another obvious question: Given the eggs malarkey, how the hell are science boffs going to, say, predict global weather patterns over the next century, huh?

Just a thought.

[DISCLAIMER: For the record, I am not a denialist on the whole climate change thing. I have no doubt we are screwing up the environment left, right and centre. I just don't need a bunch of eggheads (in polka dot bras) to tell me that.]

Er, what?

Former Royal Bank of Scotland chief executive Sir Fred Goodwin told MPs on the Treasury Committee he "could not be more sorry" for what had happened.

The former bank chiefs also said the bonus culture had contributed to the crisis and needed to be reviewed.

But Sir Fred said if bankers felt they were not paid enough, they would leave. (BBC)

Amnesiac interpretation:

BANKER: "Hullo! Did you know that we just brought about a worldwide depression? Huzzah!"
AMNESIAC: "Sorry, I can't hear you over these massive gallows I'm erecting."
BANKER: "Haha! Good one! Here, have a fiver and shine my hand-crafted John Lobbs, stitched by virgin midgets."
AMNESIAC: "Look, I told you I'm busy... Hang on! Is that a bonus in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"
BANKER (blushing): "You clearly don't appreciate the subtle intricacies of the banking world."
AMNESIAC: "Oh, yeah?" [Author's note: This is a crap response, but bear in mind that this is only a blog. I haven't time to think of a better one. On reflection, I probably should've said something like, "Are you basing your judgement on my footwear, or what?"]
BANKER (smugly): "Correct. You see, if we bankers didn't award ourselves whopping great bonuses, then something disatrous could happen."
AMNESIAC: "There are three s's in disastrous."
BANKER: "Right. Something disastrous could happen."
AMNESIAC (sounding like Ace Ventura): "Re-he-heally. Like what?"
BANKER: "Oh, I don't know. Like us quitting and working in the public sector."
Five minute pause
AMNESIAC: "And?"
BANKER: "And then who'd be around to do things like cause worldwide depressions?"
AMNESIAC: "Run that one by me again while I grease the guillotine with your trophy wife's tanner."
[THE END]
[BASED ON REAL EVENTS]

Quote of the day (so far)

"I think it was obvious, they were dressed as cowboys and indians. You could tell it was a party and not a shoot-out."

It's really annoying

when everyone is right.

More from Chipping Norton

This - 100% genuine (and uncorrected) - just sent round by the press department at The Theatre, Chipping Norton.

PRESS RELEASE

For Immediate Release

Local shops may have run out of supplies, but the show carried on at The Theatre.

Despite all the weather conditions last week, snow, blizzards and ice. cars were blocked in, car parks inaccessible and the local shops running out of supplies, theatre tickets were still available. The Theatre operated on a skelton staff with staff who could get covering for those who could not.

We have a full schedule of performances again this week and see no reason why we can’t do the same again. Director John Terry said “if we can get through last week, we can get through anything that the weather throws at us.”

There were pictures, too.

Job Search UPDATE UPDATE

Otherwise, I'm fine just being the waterboy.

Job Search UPDATE

I have a good eye (when it's not rolled back into my head). Plus, I'm willing to bring my own telephoto.

Shakespeare wrote for money...

And so, it turns out, did Philip Pullman, once upon a time.

Wish I could say the same.

Something Amis

"'You can't write all day,' he used to say. 'And that leaves a dangerous amount of time left for drinking...'"

- Amis vive on Amis mort, in The Times.

(Though personally I don't believe that Kingsley left such glaring repetitions lying about the place, even when pissed.)

Attention Both/All Genders!

Consider the vole.

Seriously. Consider it.

The male prairie vole takes months to find the right sexual partner. The sex - and this is first time sex, too, people - lasts 24 (TWENTY FOUR) hours. Miminum.

However, a hormone (vasopressin) then kicks in, rendering him incapable of straying for the rest of his born voley days.

Like I said. Consider the vole.

(Un)Holy shit!

Mills & Boon are doing rugby books.

...

...

Yup. I got nothing.

The beauty of language

Agape, in Greek, means 'love'. Specifically, it means 'God's love'.

In Xhosa, agape means 'vomit'.

I'd turn for Giles Coren

Mum thinks you need 'a proper job'? Tell her The Times says otherwise...

"Believe me, the only man more benighted than the First Class Honours grad teaching ungrateful little toffs in a cabbage-smelling boarding school, with holes in his socks and dry rolls again for supper, knowing that he once turned down a job at Credit Suisse, is the money-rich banker with three Bentleys, six chins and two divorces who's forgotten how to read."

Gig notice

Wevver permitting (i.e. I'm not snowed in out in the sticks), I'll be watching my mate Jack Sandham perform at The Old Queen's Head on the Essex Road tonight around 9ish. Any readers of this blog who'll be in the Big Smoke tonight should come along. You'll get to (buy me a Foster's and) see Jack play. Well worth it.

I took the picture of Jack looking like Elvis in the summer of '07, I think, at a Great Bear gig in Stoke Newington. That's Jack Ross on drums in the foreground. Halcyon days.

I really can't understand

how my fellow amnesiac passed this one up?

You're slipping, compadre.

Amnesiacs' advice: Stop buying milk at supermarkets

There are considerable advantages to having your cow juice delivered to your door.

The joy(s) of text II

Meine schwester sent me a text this morning that meant to say 'Careful: It's still icy out there' but she used predictive text and it came out as 'Careful: It's still gay out there'.

She's likely correct on both fronts.

Aryans, innit?

Tooting, SW17.

And staying on the horticultural theme...

Did you know that Gardeners' Question Time is based in Chipping Norton?

(Well? Did you?)

I would've sworn Chipping Norton was fictional. The kind of place Agatha Christie sent unwanted characters to die (horribly).

But no; it's real. And in Oxfordshire, of course.

Marijuana: Not exactly a performance-enhancing drug

Anti-doping bodies are full of dopes.

And what's all this balls about Phelps setting a bad example? I thought he handled that bong like a pro.

Thought for the day (so far)

Coffee: why does it smell like garlic?

Oh, the good old days...

Two things must ye know about the SA High Commission.

1) 15 years into the New South Africa, the second language on the walls of SA House is still Afrikaans. This includes the foot-high gilt-lettered SUID AFRIKA on the portico looking out onto Trafalgar Square.

2) In the foyer outside the Kinema they have antique riempie seats, but they've cheated by boarding up the space under the cross-work. Cheaters.

Really useful sign

Seen inside the toilets at Victoria station.

Position Vacant

At my alma mater, King's College London.

Research Fellow in Brazilian Studies

No jokes.

I am quite tempted to send my CV (with covering letter and this).

Classic wedding

1 bride with a monster underbite
9 fur coats in as many sq. feet
5 groomsmen all with matching haircuts and mismatching ties
1 Good Friday crucifixion dirge
and
The Battle Hymn of the Republic.

Fee: £50* - Glory, glory, hallelujah!

--
*As Woody Allen might have said, 'I'm not sure I've got fifty quid. Would you let me in for a tenner?'

Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral

Is fucking ugly.




















Observant readers will note this is just a drawing. The reality is worse.

What loss of journalistic standards?

As seen on the front page of the (new-look) Times weekend section:

"Has the designer cake cult gone too far?"

Woodward & Bernstein eat your heart out.

(Only) In France...

There is, in the city of Lyon, a school called the Ecole Normale Supérieure.

Magnifique.

Dammit

This kind of thing never happens on the BBC. I stayed up all night, too.

Making babies

In the light of Jonathan Porritt's call for a 'green' cap of two kids per couple, the Amnesiacs would like to recommend an upper limit of approx. NO children for anyone who hasn't undergone comprehensive social and intellectual vetting. To wit:

NAMING THE FATHER FOR CHILD SUPPORT IN ENGLAND

The following are all replies that British women have put on Child Support Agency forms in the section for listing fathers' details. These are genuine excerpts* from the forms:

01. Regarding the identity of the father of my twins; child A was fathered by Jim Munson. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of child B, but I believe that he was conceived on the same night.

02. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my child as I was being sick out of a window when taken unexpectedly from behind. I can provide you with a list of names of men that I think were at the party if this helps.

03. I do not know the name of the father of my little girl. She was conceived at a party at 3600 Grand Avenue where I had unprotected sex with a man I met that night. I do remember that the sex was so good that I fainted. If you do manage to track down the father can you send me his phone number? Thanks.

04. I don't know the identity of the father of my daughter. He drives a BMW that now has a hole made by my stiletto in one of the door panels. Perhaps you can contact BMW service stations in this area and see if he's had it replaced.

05. I have never had sex with a man. I am awaiting a letter from the Pope confirming that my son's conception was immaculate and that he is Christ risen again.

06. I cannot tell you the name of child A's dad as he informs me that to do so would blow his cover and that would have cataclysmic implications for the British economy. I am torn between doing right by you and right by the country. Please advise.

07. I do not know who the father of my child was as all squaddies look the same to me. I can confirm that he was a Royal Green Jacket.

08. Peter Smith is the father of child A. If you do catch up with him can you ask him what he did with my AC/DC CDs?

09. From the dates it seems that my daughter was conceived at Euro Disney maybe it really is the Magic Kingdom

10. So much about that night is a blur. The only thing that I remember for sure is Delia Smith did a program about eggs earlier in the evening. If I'd have stayed in and watched more TV rather than going to the party at 146 Miller Drive , mine might have remained unfertilized.

11. I am unsure as to the identity of the father of my baby; after all when you eat a can of beans you can't be sure which one made you fart.

[Thanks to JB]

--
* The Amnesiac Review would like to make it perfectly clear that we in no way believe the above to be genuine responses to CSA questions. They are far too funny, and - for the most part - correctly spelled.

Utmost Umility

"What I wrote, even translated from Italian, is still readable, I think."

- Umberto Eco, Misreadings