One of the main advantages of living on your own, apart from almost unlimited access to your own genitals and the remote, which in effect means that, even if someone else were there, they wouldn’t want to use it, is being able to dismantle a combustion engine in your living room.

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Asked of the teenage girl training to mind the local convenience store,

“I’m guessing you don’t know if Diet Coke is as effective as regular Coke for washing down engines?”

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Tickers paying for tickets,

“This Moscow State Circus is dear. For the same money, we could have driven to London and seen Harry Potter get his knob out.”

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Saturday karaoke night.

One of two girls stood near by whilst I was strutting my funky bottom enquired of me,

“Excuse me for asking, but are you gay?”

“I might be” I replied, thinking I was enigmatic.

“Oh you’re gay alright, no straight guy could dance like that.”

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Karaoke night continued.

Tickers- “She just spanked my arse!”

Fellow drinker- “Don’t knock it, guys pay good money for that.”

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Fellow drinker- “So they taped me up like a mummy to a plastic garden chair and proceeded to carry me up the concrete stairs to the car. On the way up one of the chair legs bloke and I fell on my head. You can just about still see the mark look. Anyway, they dumped me in the road way outside Tesco’s front entrance. The traffic was trying to make it’s way past so I started to shuffle, best I could, to one side when the other front leg bloke and I fell on the side of my face.”