All posts in category: Life

Welcome aboard...

Why...

Do I increasingly feel like freight when I travel? A year ago I wrote a blog about my experiences on a car ferry from Spain to Italy ruminating that I was stuck on a floating 1973 disco. That was luxury. Not that I was expecting the Love Boat but I write to you now from the SS Slavetrader ploughing the waves from Palermo Sicily to Cittavechia/Rome Italy. If I listen carefully I can hear the beat of the drum as the galley slaves pull on their oars. My wife and I are in a cabin so small a mouse could not get a hard on. "Why are you not outside breathing lungfulls of Mediterranean Sea air or enjoying the amenities, you spoilt Limey," I hear you cry? Well despite being marked on the ships plan... The pool "I'm sorry senior, there is not one on this ship." The gym "I'm sorry senior, not on this ship." The Sky bar "I am sorry it is not in service this voyage." Admirals club, Imperial lounge, Gelataria, shopping arcade, cafeteria, shut shut shut! The sun deck "I'm sorry senior, there are no chairs on this ship.You are free to walk about though." However, oh joy of joys, all the slot machines are working!

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I'm an individual... so let's paint it black

February 12, 2017
Fasion Health & Beauty Life Travel/Nature
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Why...

Is the color black thought of as chic when it is the default choice for people with no imagination? You can stand out as much as you like you like when you travel. The diva in a silk shirt, sunglasses and scarves, a wannabe rap star with Gucci and Dolce & Gabbana labels or simply Mr.& Mrs. Retired from Boston, she in a fetching twin set and pearls and he in a tweed suit. But nearly everyone has a black suitcase. Why? The one time you do want something to stick out, is on the conveyor belt of endless luggage spat out at baggage claim. Maybe airlines could change the colors of the check-in baggage labels to match blocks of seat rows? I know some people put a ribbon on the handle or a big sticky Smiley Face on the side, but a guy parading through customs with that is screaming to the officials: "I am a drug dealer. Stop me and feel free to search every bodily cavity..." Jet lagged and grabbing a black bag I am amazed I have never returned to my hotel to open a suitcase full of lingerie or kids school clothing (OK once but that was my suitcase....weird girlfriend) or much worse a nun returned to her convent with my suitcase. Try and explain that content to Mother Superior! However the fault really is with the suitcase manufacturers. It's either boring black, ‘bloodshot-eye’ red, ‘arrest-me’ fuchsia, ‘suffocate’ blue or a yellow so loud you can hear it scream as it's unloaded from the plane. Samsonite designers must think subtle is what you become with yoga. Checks might be nice or patterns, even different colored top and bottom. Instead they offer a color palette from a child's paint by numbers book. And while I am talking suitcases, consistency on zip start and finish as well as direction would be nice. Have you ever been able to open every layer or pocket on a suitcase with one fluid movement per zip? Never. How about different colored zips for different pockets on the case.....and all either zip clockwise or counterclockwise?

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I have seen the future…my dog.

Why...

Can my dog Cato teach me about old age, certainly better than most people? My oldest dog is now 13½ (94 in dog years) and is showing traits and remarkable similarities to an older grumpier me. We both need to go for a pee in the middle of the night, are not fans of rap music, enjoy a long crap, doze in front of the TV and snore at night with intermittent gas leaks. We prefer our food cut into smaller portions, become remarkably deaf when nagged by my wife. However hearing is perfect if Cato hears a tin of Kanga Chunks being opened from 100 metres and a a faint cat’s meow on a TV show. For me it’s the pop of a cork out of a bottle or someone opening a packet of Malteasers. With this advanced age you would hope he has gained knowledge from experience, as I hope at least I have. However pugs have a brain the size of a satsuma so he still believes the vacuum cleaner is Satan’s willy and to be savagely bitten; the ping made by the Apple TV remote is The Archangel’s call for him to bark. One of our greatest pleasures is to go for a walk….or rather I and his much younger brother Notty go for a walk whilst he sits imperiously in his dog pram. Does this mean I am also heading for a 'bath chair' in my dotage? Now before you all blink in disbelief at such a thing go look on Google as to how many different dog pram manufacturers there are let alone models. Believe me the guy who came out with the first one is sitting on a beach somewhere clutching a drink with an umbrella in it, a toy boy or toy girl at his or her side and the day’s biggest problem is whether to have cracked crab or lobster for lunch. What we both are especially fond of is going for a drive and spending the week-end at some country hotel. However not all welcome pooches. There needs to be a Michelin Guide for pet friendly hotels and inns. “OK Mark let me have a look... heated dog basket, choice of bottled waters to drink from, bones in the mini bar and a rub down in the health spa by a French Poodle. Book it.”

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I'm sorry. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.

January 13, 2017
Entertainment/Media/Arts Life Technology
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Why...

Are we so surprised that people die. It's the one reliable thing all humans do. In 2016 some people believe that the Grim Reaper cruelly took his scythe and cut down a larger than normal number of celebrities. Of course it's nonsense. It's a statistical certainty that every year more and more famous people die as fame itself exploded in the fifties and sixties by quintupling the number of celebs with the advent of TV and pop stars. Sadly some are just getting old or a lifetime's effect of drugs and booze takes its toll. (OK I can't explain Keith Richards. Does he actually cast a shadow? Has anyone seen him out in sunlight?) Not only has the internet given us professional offendees (http://andanotherthin.wpengine.com/so-who-made-you-a-professional-offendee/#andanotherthing) but now we have remote mourners. Allegedly Clint Eastwood said the strangest by product of being famous for a long time is people believe, as you have been part of their life, they somehow are a part of yours. This must explain the tsunami of tears that drown out every other aspect of news when someone famous shuffles off the mortal coil. People openly howl with grief, lay out flowers and even take a day off work when pop star Bent Axl, sixties glamour puss Lavinia Nightly or TV reality star Booty Licious pegs it but care not a hoot for a hobo who died in the street. Please don't tell me one life is worth the same as another. In the mourning stakes column inches in the tabloids is directly related to decibel level of global wailing.

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Cornflakes, the world’s best glue…

Why...

Does the holiday season always seem to involve glue? I suppose presents littered about the floor like plastic landmines, mixed with your best china on the table, kids so hopped up on sugar they could give Usain Bolt trouble at the 100 metres and unstable guests who have spent six hours gargling your booze, means that people inevitably fall over and things get broken. Yet despite claims that new superglues can attach a hippo to a space rocket on lift off, in my experience no glue ever works. In fact the only thing glue is brilliantly good at, is unsticking my temper.

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Complete Crystal Balls...

Why...

Am I making no forecasts for 2017? Last year due to a mad rush of alcohol to the brain I made a series of predictions for 2016. Had I predicted that Leicester City would win the Premier League in the UK (5, 000-1), Brexit (3-1) and President Trump (75-1), a modest US $100 bet would have won me more than enough money to stop this malarkey and live a life of contented idleness! I got just about everything wrong except Fox buying BSkyB. So I think this year I will give it a miss. The concept there is a predestined rhyme or reason to our life and the Universe, rather than everything that happens is random, is just human hope conquering logic. Staring at tea leaves, examining the creases on your hand or the choice of picture cards chosen randomly from a Tarot Deck seems a pretty haphazard way of finding out if the person you slept with at the office party still respects you or if you will pick out the right lotto numbers. It's the directly opposing views of thinking we have free will, yet wanting to know things are pre-ordained (and therefore prove we don't) that makes our obsession with knowing the future so conflicted.

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Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow you will want to strangle the relatives

Why...

Do relatives take priority over anyone else at Christmas? Don't misunderstand me, I adore every branch, root and twig of my family. However I also love my dogs, a couple of classic cars, a Lalique mask, a nicely worn leather jacket, a teddy bear and some very dear friends. Yes all in different ways but it seems at Christmas family is often to the exclusion of all else. Now as a kid I used to find it fairly amusing to meet up with Uncle Tuppy (yup, swear that was his name), Great Aunt Alice, Aunty Sheila and others who now are long gone and no doubt pulling crackers and swilling port in heaven. However as we really only came together once a year the novelty value soon wore off and I thought they were all bonkers and I am sure they felt I was some snot nosed brat (none of the aforementioned had kids). A brief lunch maybe but to stay manacled together for three or four days is a recipe for Lizzie Borden-like hungering for an axe! Distant relatives are like fish. After three days they go off. Christmas is a time of good will towards all men but to achieve that maybe put a time limit on each person? My American cousins are lucky as they have a Christmas doppelgänger a month earlier in Thanksgiving. That is the big family get together, always on a Thursday (see why Click Here). They get that out of the way and have the choice at Christmas to go away, be with friends or again link up the family tree.

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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.

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Slow...slow...quick quick...slow...you don't know how to walk

Why...

Has the basic action of putting one foot in front of the other become obsessively scrutinised? In the not too distant past we had Neolithic man....let's call him Uggg. After he has dragged his wife by the hair around the cave as foreplay before some prehistoric love-making, he ventures outside with his trusty club to find dinner. "Just popping out for a bite, dear." It was a toss-up in fact who would be dinner, Uggg the caveman or Tiddles from next door, the local sabre tooth tiger. This is not quite on a par with you or me popping down to Tesco's for a microwave chicken korma and a six pack of Aussie beer. (Neither of which you actually eat, just rent.) Apart from his club, loincloth, toothless grin and a few fleas, Uggg took nothing else with him. The intrepid Tesco visitor if he came on foot would have a Day-Glo jacket, mobile phone and in case he died from thirst or hunger on the long trek from Acacia Avenue to the supermarket, a bottle of water and an energy bar. That seems a little excessive even for the suburbs (unless it's Texas where you would rather walk naked than without your two friends Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson).

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Light bulbs. The devil's own testicles!

Why...

Is the simple light bulb really the work of Beelzebub? Whenever a lightbulb goes 'ping' in my house, my whole day gets dimmer. Bayonet, screw in, full width, half width, 40 watt, 60 watt, clear, pearl.... pointless and endless variations.....yet on top of all that nonsense I now have to deal with eco friendly bulbs. These are a giant stride backwards. Firstly they are all fugly (f*cking ugly). The shape looks like Mr Whippy has poohed a glass. I guarantee Thomas Edison's prototype got brighter quicker. These new things need an eon to warm up before on full beam. It's like going back to old cathode ray tube tv's. I used to turn those on, go make a cup of tea, have a cigarette, a wee and when I came back my TV was just flickering into life. Eco bulbs.That's progress like saying a cannibal uses a knife and fork! However the palaver of changing normal bulbs pales compared to swapping out a halogen ceiling light. There are more variations how these little bastards screw into the ceiling than excuses Justin Bieber gives for speeding. Firstly as I try and get the inner socket out, ceiling plaster always gives my head a nice quasi-dandruff coating. Next, whichever catch spring or twisting technique Torquemada the builder fitted, the burnt out bulb clings to the socket like a slinky twenty year old Russian to a fat billionaire. So then I make the mistake of grabbing the bulb which is hotter than Satan's underpants and I a) burn my fingers, b) drop the bulb to the ground where it smashes. I try and reverse the whole procedure fitting a replacement. Another dusting of plaster this time in my eyes so I'm half blind as I try and screw the new one in. After wrestling with the fixture until I get neck camps I eventually get the bulb in...only to turn the thing on and discover it's not the bulb but the transformer that's bust. Frankly I'd rather use the man who invented these things as a human candle than have to change another.

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Opinion Pollsters.......the world's most useless profession?

Why...

Are opinion polls as reliable as a chocolate teapot? The largest wailing sound after Donald Trump's victory did not come from Hillary Clinton's hotel suite. It came from the offices of the smuggest of all 20th Century inventions…the Official Pollster. Despite twice in the UK being proved to be as accurate as a cross-eyed tattooist (Conservative Victory and Brexit), the pollsters' Achilles heel is they seem unable to grasp so many of us fib to them. Their self-importance (only matched by their belief we are flattered by being asked our opinion), belongs to the thinking of 75 years ago; a time when the man in the street doffed his cap to a Gent in a suit with a clipboard! During an election you not only resent being asked your vote every time the wind changes direction, but also the scorn or derision your views might bring down. If the media hounds your preferred choice at an election as being the spawn of Satan, you are unlikely to say to a complete stranger that Beelzebub has got your vote, for fear of their reaction. It seemed obvious to me that 90% of the undecided in the US probably meant a vote for La Donald and a good chunk of those declared for Hillary were secret Trump kissers. My beef here is not if someone is a good candidate or not; if you want to vote for Biffo The Bear as Prime Minister, that is your entitlement. What astonishes me is Opinion Pollsters belief what we say to them nowadays is even on nodding terms with our true feelings.

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The pen is mightier than the sword... so long as it is writing gossip

Why...

Do we allow real news to be eaten up by rumour and gossip? I promised never to write about events of the moment but is pretty clear to me the battle between Hillary and Donald was fought not with facts on policy but rumour and tittle-tattle all dressed up in self righteousness. But let's be honest. The truth is we are all more interested in the activities from inside someone's underpants than what goes on between their ears. What is Facebook, Twitter and other social platforms other than a digital funnel to feed grist into the rumour mill?

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Are you a Masochist? Yes if you watch cable news and then order a Pad Thai

November 3, 2016
Entertainment/Media/Arts Food & Drink Life
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Why...

Living on a small island with a terrible choice of cable channels have I developed a masochistic streak that compels me to watch mind numbingly bad commercials on International news networks like CNN? These travesties to the creative advertising community are throwbacks to the 1950's. But instead of Mom in an A-line skirt trying to persuade me to invest in some Tupperware, an earnest voice asks me to move my entire business to some unstable country or my money into a Bank I have never heard of. I can only assume the rates for the commercials are payable via Groupon as the scripts make a Hallmark Card a Pulitzer contender and the acting is as wooden as Elvis' heart. The real mystery is who on earth do they think are actually watching these? (Apart from knobby-no-mates like me who just howl with laughter.) Does someone really believe a Captain of Industry or a Titan from Wall Street is going to take a break from his next mega-billion deal to watch Focus Africa at 3 in the afternoon about a co-op making sweaters out of Matabele gumbo beads or a mime troupe re-imagining Hamlet out on the Serengeti? Worthy and important as these things may be they are not going to hold the attention of Gordon Gekko or Ritchie Rich. "Quick get me the Financial Director. We need to put all our money in this Bank of Lilliput. This commercial has won me over." Or "Let's move out of Silicon Valley and take a seaview building in Atlantis. Who cares there are land mines scattered around like confetti from the previous civil war, the locals are not even on nodding terms with the English language and the airport safety record is on a par with a Samsung Note 7." Whilst I admit a well-crafted ad might make me think twice about which supermarket to visit or perhaps try a new shampoo, major corporate decisions are not made because of these pitches.

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Love thy neighbour... but only after you have moved

Why...

Are neighbours the source of so much pain? I understand that one in five people have disputes with their neighbour. What surprises me is one in five don't murder them! What is it about living in close proximity that brings out character traits that would test a saint! I once had a neighbour who clamped my car while parked on the tarmac strip in front of my own garage! Apart from wanting to recommend him to a vivisectionist, I was at a loss at why a perfectly rational human being could morph into a manic traffic warden with nothing better to do than skulk behind twitching nett curtains on the look out for unwanted visitors. Sill, forgive and remember is my motto. Next he objected to lights on the driveway that came on when I reversed out as the bulbs 'invaded his personal space'. The fact I was trying to avoid turning one of his offspring into a fajita was irrelevant! The feuding and snipping went on until he went bust and had to move. I cried for days... with tears of joy! Once I lived next to a pub with a garden that bordered with my own. I only left the landlord a note of complaint once. Dear Landlord, I wonder if you could ask your customers to smoke their cigarettes down to the butt before flicking them into my garden. The dogs tend to try and smoke half used ones and I am trying to get them to quit. Never had another problem. And got a case of beer as an apology!

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The man who said it's better to give than receive had the clap...

October 6, 2016
Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Life
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Why...

Does Charity have to go hand in hand with the foghorn of unrelated publicity and self-promotion? John Lennon famously said at a Royal Variety Performance in aid of Charity: "You guys in the cheap seats can clap, while you lot in the dress circle just rattle your jewelry." I am shocked at not only how much tickets for gala dinners now cost but the tiny fraction of the nights' takings that eventually filter down to the charity. The amount of money that disappears into the promotion and overhead of mega Charity Balls is eye watering, sometimes over 90%. Is it really all worth it? Women are shoehorned into impossible dresses and men pretend they look like James Bond when they are just held into their tight fitting dinner jackets by Uni-Bond. The food is a delicate balance between pretentious and uneatable. The vast ballroom is either hot enough to poach an egg in my underpants or cold enough to hear the hair on my legs crackle. As the tables are the size of a skating rink, I cannot speak to anyone but my immediate 'neighbour without a megaphone. Worst is, I invariably end up seated next to some airhead who drones on about how at a previous event she sat next to a loved up A list movie duo or Wall Street killer couple. "It was simply so amusing, dahling, " she gushes. She explains that the (now divorcing) couple competed against each other in the auction for a week in some other zillionaire's hermetically sealed villa. "Between the two they drove the price through the roof......they took a bow of course."

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You have a vocation...? My arse!

Why...

Am I most jealous of people who know from the get-go what they are going to do in life? The kid who instinctively knows he or she wants to be a vet, concert pianist, architect or pilot and seemingly glides into his or her chosen life path. The rest of us stumble across jobs both weird and wonderful but as far from youthful aspirations as you can get. Do kids fantasise about being an arbitrageur, systems analyst, account manager, VAT inspector or Border Control/Customs Official as opposed to firemen, nurses and astronauts? Proctologists really worry me. I cannot believe that among the fresh faced interns at Med school there's a clutch of them burning with desire to spend their working day with their digit stuck up a strangers butt. Indeed if there were such people, counselling is what they need rather than medical training. Nope I suspect many proctologists flunked their first choice. "Sorry, grades not good enough for brain, cosmetic or heart surgery but there is an opening (in more than one sense) in the proctology department". Shock, horror, forlorn look on student. "It's not so bad...though no one wants to shake your hand. The pay is stratospheric and you don't take your work home with you." Job sold!

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My Underpants intimidate me…

September 8, 2016
Fasion Health & Beauty Food & Drink Life
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Why...

Do I allow marketing and fashion to seep into the crease of my subconscious? I can’t buy a pair of boxers without David Beckham’s tattoed physique reminding me what I should look like (or years ago a grinning Marky Mark before he turned into Mark Wahlberg)? So obsessed are we with visions of perfection in advertising that there are casting calls for pets and ‘make up artists’ when you shoot a plain old Hamburger

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It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to..... You would cry too if it happened to you...

Why...

In all that's logical, has the world's most powerful democracy and its two parties come up with such unappealing candidates? What is remarkable is that both Trump and Clinton can engender such visceral dislike! Ex pluribus unum is the motto of finding the President of the United States but Good Golly Miss Molly how can it have filtered down to Shrillery or The Hairstyle? I suspect the real reason is the battle is about the perceived status quo vs something new. I'm no fan of the current status quo but I'm not sure any alternative is the right one. But oh woe, the fault for the candidates must fall to the respective parties.

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Bye bye TV channels....meet the new lords of TV

August 11, 2016
Entertainment/Media/Arts Finance/Law Life Technology
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Why...

For an industry marked out for its pursuit of the new, can traditional broadcast and channel TV fail to see it's no longer at the crossroads....it's waaaaaaay past them. Netflix and others like Amazon have clearly demonstrated we like to consume our content at our own speed, not spoon fed episodes once a week. Does anyone have a show that's an appointment to view anymore? No, you just record it on your PVR and when you have half a dozen or so you sit down with a drink and a bucket of ice cream and off you go.

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Ryan Air, Easy Jet and Sky Blue are deep in the luxury section of travel...

Why...

Do we accept outdated travel standards? I am writing today's blog with the door handle to the bathroom in my cabin on an overnight ferry in one hand and the recently dropped out spindle lying on the orange nylon carpet on the other side of the locked door. The 'boom-boom-boom' of the nightclub nearby is partly blocked out by the insistent knocking on the cabin door by my wife. She is banging on it asking me to let her in. Her problem is that instead of plastic keys to insert into the electronic reader in the lock, to save money this shipping line uses cardboard ones. It's creased so the door won't open...... A children's nursery rhyme pops into my head. "Oh dear what can the matter be, Mark Grenside is stuck in the lavatory, He was alone from Monday to Saturday, Nobody knew he was there....." Welcome to the European ferry service that is taking my wife and our car from Spain to Malta via Italy. It's a 70's time warp where everything including the make-up and uniforms of the crew and even the carpets are super tacky....with most things on board simply not working (just like some of the crew). The TV (personally signed by John Logie Baird it's so old) is frozen on an Italian shiny floor game show. The concept of service in the restaurant is even funnier than Chris Rock on an impromptu stand-up comedy schtick and the wifi service is as intermittent as my windshield wipers in a drizzle. In fact the code to log on to the wifi is FIFTEEN digits long yet it's feeble capacity means I can only download written content, (so no Skype or image downloads)......and I can only buy for one hour at a time. No more. "You want more than an hour? Why?" asked the reception desk. "For work, " I tried to explain. But that was perhaps an alien concept. "After an hour on the Internet you have to come back for another code. Or call me." She smiles showing me the numbers written longhand on a piece of paper torn from an exercise book and hands it to me like a laundry ticket. One hour one minute later I discover I cannot call the Reception desk from the phone in the bedroom to ask for the new codes, as the phone spits out numbers completely unrelated to the digits I type in....very much like an Enigma machine from World War II. Reception is 72000 but so far the phone twice dialled 63799 and once the engine room! In a way I'm happy to be locked in the bathroom, away from vomiting Russians out on a stag week-end and young kids who are allowed to scream and run riot in the playroom at 1.30 AM....which is conveniently situated next to the dining room whose doors cannot close to block out the din. Other quaint customs include pre-paying for anything you want from the cafe at the till situated at the opposite end of the room. It therefore kills impulse purchases. After paying for my coffee and walking to the bar I discover they have some fancy cakes I'd like to buy. But that would mean returning to the queue at the payment desk so I don't bother. The crew all shake their heads when you suggest that possibly things might be better and point to the complaint box. It's stuffed with more letters than Santa's in tray on Christmas Eve...... Perhaps Brexit was not such a calamity! The exception to the C.E.F rule (Crappy European Ferry), is the Ferry from Sicily to Malta. It's so sleek it makes the Queen Mary look like the wreck of the Mary Deare.

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All posts in category: Life

Welcome aboard...

Why...

I'm an individual... so let's paint it black

Why...

I have seen the future…my dog.

Why...

I'm sorry. There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Why...

Cornflakes, the world’s best glue…

Why...

Complete Crystal Balls...

Why...

Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow you will want to strangle the relatives

Why...

The Digital Water Cooler and the End of Suburbia

Why...

Slow...slow...quick quick...slow...you don't know how to walk

Why...

Light bulbs. The devil's own testicles!

Why...

Opinion Pollsters.......the world's most useless profession?

Why...

The pen is mightier than the sword... so long as it is writing gossip

Why...

Are you a Masochist? Yes if you watch cable news and then order a Pad Thai

Why...

Love thy neighbour... but only after you have moved

Why...

The man who said it's better to give than receive had the clap...

Why...

You have a vocation...? My arse!

Why...

My Underpants intimidate me…

Why...

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to, cry if I want to..... You would cry too if it happened to you...

Why...

Bye bye TV channels....meet the new lords of TV

Why...

Ryan Air, Easy Jet and Sky Blue are deep in the luxury section of travel...

Why...