Hello, my sister, Libby, also your daughter, is snogging a potato in my bed. What are you going to do about it?' Dad started yelling uncontrollably. I wonder if he is having the male menopause? If he starts growing breasts, I will definitely be running away with the Circus.

Tom is back on a flight at 6:15 P.M. That is 6:15. Do you get it? Not 6:00 P.M. but 6:15 P.M. And do you know how many minutes that is? I do. I have also become a Time Lord.

I like the idea that I can talk to any teenage girls. You know, in a language that makes sense to them.

I am going to keep my mind (well, what's left of it) occupied by doing (and I never thought the day would come when I would say this) my homework.

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.

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.

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.