1) The statement ‘I have a friend who is black, brown, yellow, fat, thin, tall, short…,’’ is a Get Out of Jail Free card for any kind of controversial or intolerant remark aimed at a minority group-

‘I have friends who are gay. Well, I know A gay. He’s often seen masturbating at the gates of St. Evans Primary. A right character. Taken to the hearts of the locals.’’

2) I have built up such an aversion to nightclubs, that if placed in a situation where there is an RNB soundtrack (‘’Urban’’ music, my friends…no Leadbelly soul scything here) scatty lights and an unsystematic activation of a smoke machine, I will shit apples. I will shit apples until the cows come home lathered and inebriated, babbling incomprehensible verse before they fall into a cow-pat stupor. This is only after having hoofed some young maiden down an alleyway, got into some hoofy-cuffs in the taxi line and gobbled a portion of grass along the boulevard, before throwing up on some hens. Naughty cows. Evil nightclubs.
Anyway, despite my propensity to avoid any kinetic activity that comes in the form of dancing (nightclubs being a natural hive of the dancing legions…that’s my tedious link) there is the odd track that will compel me to wiggle my grasshopper legs and flail my Mr.Tickle arms in a fashion so erratic that the masses will fall to there knees.

Epic. epic. epic.