Pinkie, I am very disappointed! Not only did you lose to Jul who randomly put in answers but your dismal performance has left me as the resident big brother expert (the shame, the shame). I would like to temper this affliction by stating that I have onlt watched 2 minutes of the current series and am unable to name even one contestant. Only Banshee Carrot can save me now… (I’ll help you with the answers if you like)

Well, I got a rather pathetic score of four – and I call myself a (mild) fan. There is certainly a diverse selection of contestants this year, which I am sure will provide a few moments of entertainment…
As for Newquay, what has happened to this peaceful town? Little did we realise the full impact that RTTS 05 (Race To The Sun 05) would have on our peaceful surfing holiday! Why would anyone take straighteners camping? Why would anyone do that to their car? Why? Why? Why?
However, the weather was great and the surf not too bad either. Decoy managed to stand on his board for the first time and I caught a few good waves too bodyboarding – an equally skillful sport which is much misunderstood! I will convert you all, I will, I will….
Any news on my picture yet, or will I have to try and draw my own?

but whos name did you put on the back?

as a proud owner of 5 football shirts, i can say that i have no qualms about wearing them, but usually only when i’m playing sport.

Have parted with ¬£40 of vaguely hard earned cash for a Liverpool top so I can gloat and feel “part of it all”. Never really worn the football kits I’ve bought in the past much on the grounds that
a)I’m not 12.
b) I’m not working class.
c) I feel like a twat wearing one.

However as I sit here in my kit I feel like a Champion. Of Europe. More specifically in football. Woohoo!

You still have milk delivered in pint bottles with foil tops? I thought that was against EU regulations?

In the good old days, when fish and chips came wrapped in last week’s ink stained newsprint and ten bob notes lasted till next Wednesday, many’s the early morning, after a hard night’s partying, listening in a stoned daze to all four sides of Umma Gumma played extra loud on a distorted gramophone, we crept unseen up garden paths to steal refreshing pints of Gold Top from unsuspecting neighbours to drink for our breakfasts.

OK. Piece of piddle… But it made Sasha confused.

If I have five chaffinces all called Steve and Dave is my uncle’s window cleaner. How many bottles of milk do the bluetits hack the lid off?

Mmm, mmm, answer me that one then!!!!