Answer Me This! Podcast

** Click here for Episode 163 **

Good news for Emma from Bristol! Sarah knows exactly what you should do with your four boxes of unwanted Christmas talcum powder:

Picture the scene.

So when great aunty Mabel presents me with a little bottle of talc every Christmas I smile, thank her, and tuck it away with my suntan lotion.

Hooray! So by deploying it for a post-beach clean-up, you should have used up your supply in a mere 80 years or sono time. But whatever you do, don’t sprinkle it on a baby, Jamie in Nottingham warns:

My partner Marie and I have a 14-week-old daughter, Lily Sophia!!! And we have been told by medical professionals that you cannot use talc as the tiny particles – if that is the word – is bad for them! I fucking loved talc!!

Don’t let such a pure love die, Jamie! If you’re scared to sprinkle the substance over your daughter, give yourself a thick dusting instead. You’ll look like John Malkovich in Dangerous Liaisons, which might give Marie a nice post-natal thrill.

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** Click here for Episode 163 **

I’m sure you’re all agog to know, as we were, the technical details of Josh from Warwick University‘s lift ordeal from last week’s podcast:

I’d just like to clarify, where you were wondering if the lift got full of wee – it didn’t, as we managed to open the inner doors and (as Martin suggested) have a wee down all 4 feet of lift shaft, since we were trapped between the first and second floor.

Since the inner door opened fully, and only the outer doors were locked, even Olly could get his sizable penis through the gap.

What a relief! In both senses. Here’s another relief, this time for waggly pop sensation Chico, who must have been very hurt that his career-high concert in Hyde Park didn’t even make it into Olly Mann’s medium-term memory bank. Cheer up, Chico! You made a far more lasting impression upon Michael:

You reminded me of the strange moment I met Chico – I was on a trip round Europe with 2 mates, and when on a boat on Lake Como in Italy, we spent the whole journey distracted not by the beautiful scenery around us but by trying to decide whether it was him or not. We decided it had to be and ended up getting a picture with him and his daughter, the best snap from the whole holiday!

Wow. Call Cameron Crowe – I think we’ve got a plot for Almost Famous II!

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** Click here for Episode 162 **

Hey! Guys! WAIT A MINUTE! Before you all scuttle off to form your own Fight Club-style fight clubs, inspired by last week’s episode, check out the legal ramifications of such, as summarised by Ian:

A ‘real’ Fight Club would still be illegal even if the participants signed some kind of waiver because an individual is prosecuted by the state not by an individual. Imagine if Helen smashed me round the face with some kind of beautifully macraméed cosh.

This is an important principal in things like domestic violence cases where once an allegation is made, it has to be followed through (so that a violent partner cannot coerce the other to drop charges).

Never mind. Cinema on Friday instead?

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** Click here for Episode 162 **

Huw has done the experiments we’re too afraid to do (not being all that keen on heart attacks, or third-degree burns on our arms):

Further to your discussion in Episode 162, I thought you’d like to know that you CAN deep-fry an egg. My parents used to do it all the time; crack an egg into the chip pan – magic!

It’s a bit different to a shallow-fried egg: a bit more crispy around the outside, and because it floats, it allows the egg to become a bit more three-dimensional, with the yolk almost ending up spherical.

You paint a beautiful romantic picture, Huw, of the balletic egg dancing in its death-bath of oil, and of your childhood with your maverick parents and their eggsperiments.

No such romance from Bruce in Paauilo, Hawaii, but I am regretting not having asked him how he came to know the following information:

I listened to that episode the other week that talked about the etymology of the phrase “Pissing like a race horse”. There is an important bit you didn’t find in your research that is germane to that expression. Have you ever done a course of steroids? Race horses have a long association with them… and they make you piss like a race horse.

Good to know.

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** Click here for the Best of AMT2010 Part 1 **

Some cultural mysteries continue to be unsolved – does the spinning thing topple at the end of Inception? What does the man tell everyone in the video for ‘Just’? How many corpses were buried under the patio on Noel’s House Party? – but Niall from Dublin can at least try to close the following case:

Having recently walked down memory lane whilst listening to your ‘Best of 2010’ episode, I felt compelled to watch, admittedly for the first time, Guns N’Roses’ ‘November Rain’ video. Christ, it’s long, isn’t it?

I hope this means that Brendan from Cork can finally sleep at night.

Yet another reason why the traditional wedding fruit cake should be banned.

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** Click here for Episode 160 **

Now, usually you can’t get Dom from Slough to do anything. But one sniff of humanure, and he’s moved to action:

I felt I had to write regarding the humanure section, because although Helen is right to say that it is in use, there are questions over its safety, hence why it’s not more widely used.

Rose George’s book, The Big Necessity
, is excellent on this and many other subjects relating to sanitation. If you only read one book about the safe disposal of human waste, I would recommend this one.

Hurry! If you order now, you can get copies of The Big Necessity delivered in time for Christmas. It’s the perfect toilet read*, in a manner of speaking.

* as is this, of course.

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** Click here for Episode 160 **

You recall all that kerfuffle we’ve had over the past few weeks regarding which of the Queen’s speeches is The Queen’s Speech? Olly may have had factual correctness on his side by saying it was her oratory at the State Opening of Parliament, but a public vote supported my assertion that everyone assumes it’s the one she makes at Christmas. Well, here’s some damning new evidence thanks to Mike in London:

I downloaded your first episode of 2010 and began listening to it.

Boom. Investigative journalism medal please.

Congratulations Mike, here you go:

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** Click here for Episode 159 **

Harry in Kent has written in to shed further light on one of last week’s issues:

You were talking about why do restaurants say something is “86” when it’s gone.

Make of it what you will considering this is just a TGIs urban myth.

I love the idea that TGI Fridays has its own catalogue of urban myths and linguistic quirks. Anyone know any more? Tell us in the comments. No doubt the unique vocabulary concerning onion rings alone could fill a tome.

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** Click here for Episode 157 **

In last week’s episode we asked you to bemoan the goods your parents gave you, and duly you did bemoan:

Megan in North Walsham: My brother and I seem to have inherited opposite traits from our parents. My brother has inherited my Mum’s maths brain (she can barely count) and my Dad’s slim lovely ankles, whereas I have inherited my Dad’s better than average maths brain, and my mum’s horrible fat ankles. Just thought you’d like to know.

Lucy from Edinburgh: I wish I hadn’t inherited my Dad’s hatred of people or his singing voice.

Cara from Orkney: From my parents I inherited: left handedness, AB negative blood, osteoporosis (something to look forward to!), idiopathic scoliosis – although they reckon that it’s genetic – absolutely no arm muscles whatsoever, the ability to be good at most things but not quite good enough to be great, very small teeth, long, slim legs and crippling shyness.

Amber from Kansas: I inherited my father’s good looks. As you can see by my name, I’m a woman. I’m not saying I’m manly-looking. The giant rack I inherited from my mother helps.* Also my Dad is a baby-face and the roundness fits on a woman just as much as on a man. However, there are certain haircuts that I avoid like the plague, as I’ve had more than one relative mistake a picture of me with shorter hair for that of my father! One aunt in particular cheerfully asked where my grandmother found “all these old pictures of Oggie (my dad’s nickname).” It was a stack of pictures of me at various ages.

*Another bit of genes I wish hadn’t manifested themselves. Back pain and trying to shop for shirts that don’t a) make me look like a skank or b) make me look 30 lbs overweight are things I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

Elly from Somerset: What I got: mum’s shortness (I am the shortest in my family for generations, and my brother is 6’4″) and my dad’s under-eye circles and keratosis pilaris. Not fetching aesthetically. I really would’ve preferred my mum’s tits and ability to do well in exams with no revision, combined with my dad’s ability to tan.

Keep ’em coming, people.

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