Just lovely.

PH, because occasionally I'm sure she's lovely too.

...or a Big Brother icon. Hurry up, please, Reg people...

Meh. For what's meant to be, in the end, a (replacement for a) book?

Still kinda sold on the Sony.

...from the inky Despair Squid, folks. If the last three series signified anything, it's the law of diminishing returns.

I'm off to stare moodily out of the observation dome, hoping I'm wrong.

...all gets better and better with these clowns, doesn't it.

Sigh.

I'm off to start measuring up some cardboard boxes and a nice dry-ish bridge to sleep under until this whole global corruption thing all blows over.

...automated rape machine that the to-be-punished rapist gets strapped onto?

There's your IT angle. Of a sort.

...it's full of craters...

Ricardo Montalban, RIP...

Patrick McGoohan, RIP...

When will this all end?

PH, as an icon that will, inevitably, go too...

You've got my vote too, pal. Who ARE you?

Except for the last point. Am quite happy for prisoners to be utterly zonked: happy / docile prisoners mean less trouble and strife for prison guards (I know a few).

There's always one, isn't there?

And today's inevitable blow-hard -- employing CAPITALS to point out yet again that we should always be grateful for all eternity for something that, um, didn't actually quite happen that way -- happens to be you. Congrats.

Sigh. I'd suggest read your WW2 history books. Or maybe read them again -- properly, this time. Assuming you do have books. Books about WW2 in particular. That you can read. But I doubt that would be useful. Hell, I doubt you'll even read the responses to your "cordial" bollix. I certainly doubt you'll read this far.

So perhaps I'm just venting. Oh well: ah, that feels better. On with my day.

Jim the Bo$$ owes me a clean keyboard and a fresh cup of tea. (Ceylon, of course.) Brilliant.

...unless, of course, this is a cunning sales stunt.

Still wonder to this day why a sci-fi-based tax-dodge is still taken this seriously by its adherents. I mean, am I right in having gathered that it's basically about alien-being Thetans, trapped in volcanoes by hydrogen bombs? Seriously?

(Also, why hydrogen bombs in particular? What's wrong with basic atomic bombs? Or more hi-spec nuclear / neutron? Is there some kind of specific blast yield that only hydrogen bombs can deliver? Confused.)

Black helicopter because I think black helicopters are cool. No other reason.

I'm with you on this -- up until this morning, I had NEVER heard of anal whitening cream. My life, strangely enough, was not the poorer for it.

Now, however, I'm just pondering, disturbingly, the mental picture of someone whose job it would be to check, grade and, I assume, probably apply the afore-mentioned product.

Stop sign because, if this is where your job is fast-tracking you towards...

...for acknowledging the 'epic fail'. When you're caught fair'n'square, be honest/open about it, it gives you grace. Of a sort.

...our data-mining database overlords. With or without a 'where' clause.

(Sigh. Come on, someone had to.)

Hello? Relevance? WTF?

Sorry, my poor clown-like mind cannot see the connection...

...oh, please tell me that was a typo and not a tastelessly inappropriate pun...

...but imho "To Live And Die In L.A." was William Peterson's finest. Pure 80s excess, quite OTT really, and a rather good driving-in-wrong-direction sequence of Friedken-directed goodness to top things off.

Probably quite tasteless in certain areas, but check it out if you haven't already.

Paris, coz she's also tasteless. She probably doesn't understand CSI. (Assuming she's capable of sitting still enough to watch an entire episode.)

...and blow me down, an American commenting on British dentistry. Oh, how my sides are splitting. Oh, the wit. Oh, how relevant.

Let's see if we can follow your devastating logic a bit (I've got some time to waste): are you effectively saying that Americans should carry on driving SUVs and Hummers and other assorted useless vehicles with shitty mileage because -- wait for it -- their teeth are in better condition?

Coward, you're a moron. But I suppose your teeth look great.

...and having never fancied kids in any shape or form in my life (too small, too dumb, never able to pay when it's their round, that kind of thing), I'm obviously a little behind the whole 36-Paedo-Party thing.

(Ooh. Wait. Did I really type that? "...little behind..." Did you see what I did there? What was that: a freudian-slip type thing?)

FFS. Really, sarcasm aside, words fail me.

(But thanks for the Logan's Run reference, people. Even have still fond memories of the utterly dire TV series...)

...squeezing out the power chords on the needlessly macho soundtrack? For a large flying plank that kinda, if one squints, could be represented by a guitar fret.

Cool.

...or is it completely, utterly, unacceptably ugly?

Mailing missiles at a country. Well OK, obviously just missile parts in this isolated case, but using a target country's mail service seems sound for the future:

-- saves on fuel costs (especially in these uncertain times),

-- better payload accuracy achieved via personal home/office person-to-person delivery services,

-- arguably lower chances of collateral damage (assuming correct target signs the receipt)...

Fairly reasonable (and go-green) to me.

Lost too many years of my youth trying to make a go of it in the soul-dead flat emptiness that is Palmie. The horror, the dull, unrelentingly vacant gloom of sport-only tedium and nothing-else-going-on-here-forever: it still haunts and drives me now.

Thank God and Blighty for all things London. Even the sideways sleet and knife-wielding hoodies are more interesting.

The Palmie Stop Sign, where all hope must be abandoned before entry.

(Still, it will ALWAYS be better than Tauranga. And Hamilton.)

@Charles Manning

Did the chihuahua make it? (Can't find the story via Google, just a lot of jokes...)

@Stuart Thompson

I thought haggis came from the original Latin haggus, therefore technically wouldn't the plural would be haggii?

Paris, because everything is questionable today,

I think you've moose-takenly posted to the wrong forum.

Paris, coz she's a moose.

I wish I had an empty, howling soul. Mine's a bit full. The howling bit is OK though.

But then I've got bugger-all "friends" on Facebook. Inverse relational type-thing, perhaps?

PH because, well, should I REALLY elaborate?

...actually I too enjoyed The Island. Still not sure why, but drugs might have had something to so with it. So there's about three of us in this posting, then.

Paris, because it's a guilty pleasure of a weird (and possibly more shameful than we thought) sort...