Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Who thought of this?
The desperate neologism - not to mention desperate measure - of the day is this.
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A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.
Well, I like menopaunch, Nige. Everybody else seems to have lost the ability to type.
ReplyDeleteYes indeed - where are they all? We might have to keep what-ho-ing each other all day to get the figures up...
ReplyDeleteWhat ho.
ReplyDeleteWhat ho old chap. This puts me in mind of something P.G. Wodehouse said - that if it weren't for quotations, all conversation between gentlemen would consist of an endless succession of What Hos. There - I think I've made his point for him.
ReplyDeletePerhaps one of our hyperactive bloggers could track down the quote...?
It is not something that concerns me right now and hopefully it never will. Of course, I don't expect to look as intolerably handsome as I do now in a decade or so, but I'll make up for the inevitable paunch and depradations of time by becoming even more witty and urbane. This can work for some men, I believe. Anyway, that's my strategy. The important thing is to just let gravity win and be gracious (and amusing) in defeat.
ReplyDeleteOne can save a lot of needless expense by cultivating a self-image of a perpetual 25 year old and avoiding mirrors at all cost. It works pretty well, at least until you finally figure out the real reason so many more gorgeous young strange women smile at you than ever did when you were 25.
ReplyDeleteNige, who are you kidding? Are you now denying that the picture I've seen of you with a fake nose and mustache wasn't actually a botched nose job? So what if you now have three nostrils? If it works for Dick Van Dyke, I'm sure it works on you.
ReplyDeleteDamn it Chip, there's no hiding anything from you, is there? The worst of it is the glasses and eyebrows are also permanent. Never buy your plastic surgeon on eBay...
ReplyDeleteLook, you're confusing me, Nige - my mum warned me about hanging out with intellectuals. What? Surely, there's a missing apostrophe - it should be Men O' Paunch as in men o harlech. Meno got something to do with the Moon which means baring your arse, doesn't it? Have men over 50 got booty paunch? Most men I see at the gym don't have any buttocks. It's nature's way of indentifying old men from old women.
ReplyDeleteI thought men in gyms were supposed to aspire to Buns Of Steel? I wouldn't know, having never set foot in one (a gym, that is - also a steely bun, come to think)...
ReplyDeleteNeil, is that "let gravity do its work" or "let gravy..."?
ReplyDeleteit will take a great amount of iron pumping to enbiggen the glutes, old chap. which is just as well as you're aiming for the perfect Y shape.
ReplyDeleteNo, you don't need the gym as long as you keep chasing the butterflies, nige. I don't go myself these days, I got fed up catching athlete's foot (it wasn't one of yours then?)
You're right there, Ian - maybe I should make a fitness video, Achieve The Perfect Y The Butterfly-Chasing Way...
ReplyDeleteNeither, Susan. It actually reads "a dash of Worcester sauce in gravy really works". You need to get your eyes tested.
ReplyDeleteAn excellent idea, nige, but would it be classed as a 'sport' do you think? It seems exercise is not enough today, there has to be a larger element of sport involved for it to be beneficial to both individual and society.
ReplyDeleteOh it's sport all right Ian - some of those butterflies fly like bastards.
ReplyDelete