skankdelvar

to the forum CPK.

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Indeed, one might argue that in some instances the seeming collision between presentation and expectations are transactional in nature. Let us imagine a faraway planet where androgyny is the norm. Mr David Bowie, struggling to launch his career, might have adopted a basso-profundo singing style, glued on a chest-wig and drawn further attention to himself by wrestling a tiger onstage while smoking a briar pipe stuffed with Capstan Navy Cut shag tobacco. Older inhabitants of Planet Androgyne might have pointed a scornful finger and said "Look at that! You can tell whether it's a boy or a girl!". The planet's youth might have risen in reaction against this simply appalling prejudice and in consequence purchased Mr Bowie's records by the barrow-load. Sales of Norfolk jackets and riggers' gloves might have gone through the roof until - horror - Mr Bowie might have ditched his 'genderised' look at the peak of its popularity and gone back to wearing shorty kimonos and mascara. All of which is to say that there's money to be made in looking different and provoking a response, though not so different as The Elephant Man, obvs.

Allessandro! We hope you enjoy the forum

To be fair, Mr George O'Dowd was - and remains - sui generis. Even as one in my early 20's at the time I experienced an initial though unvoiced confusion in resp. of his biology.

No, it's Tom Baker. Ah, Jon Pertwee. His son looks just like him, y'know. © Everybody's Dad 1966-1978

Yes. It's Captain Hook. Isn't it?

Yes it is.

Nearly. It's Dave Grohl out of Foo Fighters.

My thanks to Mr @NancyJohnson and Mr @steantval for bringing illumination to a perplexing conversation I had this morning with my barber Colin, the proprietor of Hair We Go in North St, Wilton. As I reclined in the chair with a hot towel wrapped around my face Colin asked me if I'd seen "those three women on the telly on New Years?" Without waiting for an answer Colin continued: "Common as muck, they were, all dressed up in cheap mens' suits that fitted where they touched. So unflattering. I mean, you could see the size of their thighs. I know it's Christmas, luv, but who needs three pairs of nutcrackers? "And the colours? I nearly died! Salmon pink, mustard yellow and a sort of dull Prussian blue? I said to Audrey, Audrey luv, who's their stylist? Helen Keller? Audrey couldn't hear me, she had her fingers in his ears. The noise they were making I thought the boiler pump bearing had gone again. Right now, ready for your shave, Mr D?" I had no idea at the time what Colin was talking about but I've watched the vid and now I do.

Now then, now then, now then, let's not be having any trouble, guys and gals. What?

Jools' Hootenanny has been going since 1992. That's 27 years and the show just keeps getting longer. He must have a picture somewhere of a BBC Director General engaging in energetic congress with a donkey. But let's be positive, oh, yes. That's a fine list of suggestions. To which I would add: * Instead of having competing music output on two BBC channels, why not shift it all onto one channel and have a pre-recorded (and more carefully curated) 1 hour Hootenanny without all the chat up till midnight. From midnight you'd start The Live Gig and run it to maybe half one. That way we'd be spared that embarrassing hiatus where the live act has to stop the music at 23:55, leave the stage, traipse up a flight of stairs banging fists with the peasants and go out onto a balcony in the cold night air (bad for the pipes), there merely to swap platitudes with some bug-eyed, drooling BBC presenter until the bongs go bong then have to scamper back to the stage and start all over again. * And make the main midnight gig a freaking huge act rather than those who are (NOI) on the comeback trail * And someone change that Auld Lang Syne cover for another one. It's getting tedious. Or play Miss Vera Lynn's We'll Meet Again and anyway nobody in the crowd will notice because it's 95% Chinese tourists taking selfies. * On the (now) spare channel they could run out Where Eagles Dare or 633 Squadron which would entertain the (apparently) geriatric grousers on BC and everybody would be happy apart from those who like sitting through 125 minutes of dross and watching Rowland Rivron soil himself on camera.

Got them on bass, acoustic and electric. Not as bright as a new set of uncoateds but retain clarity for years. The set on my Frankenjazz went on in about 2005 and still sound OK. Guitar strings don't last as long, maybe 6-12 months.

In that case you could just watch the technical credits at the end of a 1960's James Bond movie and note the first names which will be mostly Bob, Derek, Keith, Brian etc.

Screamdriver Drivescreamer Scrivedreamer Screwdriver Scroogedriver Bad Driver Drivefaster Fastdriver Slowdriver Screamfaster Fastscreamer Cream Driver Drivecreamer Screamcreamer Creamscreamer KreemSkreemer KreemDryver DreemSkreemer Toob Skreemer Queen of Scream Brian

Exactly so. Likewise, a smaller, likewise resin-ated excretion would make for a lovely fridge magnet.

... but you can put it in a block of resin and turn it into an attractive conversation piece.

Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut) Mooooon river ... (ker-fut)

Buttons: "Oh yes, it isn't!"

Happy New Year to you, too, 'Shell

The likeness is uncanny; supernatural even (shivers).

I'm sure that both 'Troozers and White Sergeant could be accommodated within the programme. As for The Mucking Of Geordie's Byre: when I was a child my parents possessed a copy of the single (45rpm, IIRC) and it got an outing on most family occasions, nothwithstanding the fact that none of us were remotely Scottish.