The fly in her argument is that when she says, 'they' will feel like lemons, we don't know who 'they' are. And 'they' might BE lemons.

There he is, tall, tanned, Italian, sophisticated. So what do you do?" I said, "Er, leap on him and snog him within an inch of his life? Taking care not to strangle myself on his false beard, or disturb his banana.

Maybe he overreacted a bit." - "A bit? That's like Hitler saying, 'Oooh, I just meant to go for a little walk, but then I accidentally invaded Poland".

I said, "Do you think she thinks it's me?" Jas said, "Well, it's pretty conclusive, isn't it? She said 'the most sniveling idiot I have ever come across.'" I said, "I didn't know that YOU have been seeing Masimo. Tom the Slug King is going to be very upset.

Non...I am DANCING IN MY NUDDY-PANTS!!!' And we both laughed like loons on loon tablets. I danced for ages round the house in my nuddy-pants. Also, I did this brilliant thing-I danced in the front window just for a second whilst Mr. Across the Road was drawing his curtains. He will never be sure if he saw a mirage or not. That is the kind of person I am. Not really the kind of person who goes and raises elks in Whakatane.

What shall I say? I must tread a fine line between glaciosity and friendlinosity. With just a hint of 'you don't know what you are missing, my fine-feathered friend.

Dad at breakfast today being very quiet. I notice he is clean shaven. I said to him, "Vati, what has happened to the little beaver that used to live on the end of your chin?