When I went to see Inside Deep Throat a couple of weeks ago, after I bought my ticket I was presented with a tie-in promotional lollipop. Ha-ha, I thought, I see what you have done there, for whilst I suck my lollipop it will be a little bit like Lin[…]

Whilst away I had the privilege, nay pleasure, of watching some Fox News. Its output was probably at about two in the morning, however what was interesting was a five minute package of Palestinian Rap. There was much pooh-poohing that this “uni[…]

Do you know what I hate? Apart from injustice, horribleness and all of that stuff that FT does not have a blog on which we can rant about it. I hate movies which are solely designed to do one thing not actually doing them. Possibly the nadir of this […]

Okay, okay – we will get on to proper science somewhere along the line, not just stuff I read on the side of a bus. But really. Colgate “Oxygen”! I think pseudo-science in cosmetic adverts have reached such a point that Colgate need[…]

It would appear that Lambrini Girls do not know much about sport. However they
a) like drinking
b) like men
so are more than willing to learn. As long as that learning isn’t too complicated. For example, from the Lambrini Girls Guide to Footbal[…]

Lambrini is the tipple of choice round here at Pumpkin Towers. There is nothing we like better then kicking of our imitation Jimmy Choos and throwing back with a couple of girlfriends and knocking back a bottle of Council Estate Cristal. So how excit[…]

I don’t know whay this has never occured to me in the five years the campaign has been running. But Fashion Targets Breast Cancer, laudable charity that it is, seems to have made one tiny error. Look at the target on the left. Where is it aimin[…]

Ulp. South African ladies Bite Back. With special downstairs teeth. And I quote:
It had been designed with engineers, gynaecologists, psychologists and urologists. It was “hygienic – no human hands will be involved in the manufacture&#822[…]

Mystery of urine stained books
This is a job for Hercule Pissoir. Or Sam Sprayed.
We will return to normal service writing about proper book related issues as soon as Ananova stop having quirkies about pissing everywhere.[…]

Menus are strange beasts. I am out at a restaurant and one is plunked infront of me, and I flip through its many pages. It rarely occurs to me to ask the waiter “what’s best”. Clearly something on there must be. But then if the chef[…]