More retro feedback, harking all the way back to AMTs 180 and 181! This is from B in The Hague, Netherlands:
In two of your previous episodes, you answered a question about whether rough foods (e.g. chips, toast) are okay to be eaten after tonsillectomy or not. In a second episode, somebody emailed to say rough foods actually help in cleaning up the buildup at the back of the throat after the operation.
And because you guys are my main source of medical advice, I decided to eat a piece of toast three days after the operation. And guess what…it did help in cleaning up the wound! This resulted in my mouth smelling less of 10 dead rats – it is now a very tolerable 1 dead rat.
I am now on my fifth day post op and I eat one piece of toast in the morning and anothee one before I brush my teeth in the evening.
Toast, it’s a miracle cure! Buy official AMT toast, PROVEN to be medically effective, only £20 a slice!
Further to last week’s bit about street performance statues, last year my girlfriend and I were in Budapest. We noticed a very good statue that was earning lots of money. After quite a long time of not moving at all we saw a guy arrive and collect the money, this was when we realised that the “human” statue was just a grey painted mannequin!
That’s even worse than the statues who aren’t doing anything beyond wearing a crappy mask or a funny hat! OUTRAGEOUS and IMMORAL. Unless it’s all an art piece. You can get away with a lot of shitty behaviour if you pretend it’s an art piece…
OK guys, since we’re on the subject, let’s workshop my human statues sitcom idea . I suggested a working title of Statues at Liberty; Olly opted for Standing Still. James has raised the bar:
I think Statue-Tory could be a success. Following an ageing Etonian Tory cabinet minister recently removed from office.
Or, along those lines, StatueTORI: cash-strapped Tori Spelling has to resort to working as a human statue to keep her family together. This is more a reality TV show and book than a sitcom, I’ll admit.
OK, how about: Statu[e]s Quo! Human statues by day, Status Quo tribute band by night! And in life they’re struggling to cling onto their current situation, running fast just to stand still.
Or: On a Pedestal. An adorably ingenuous young man/woman is crazy for human statues and thinks they’re the greatest thing ever – but upon spending time with the people behind the facepaint, he/she is forced to learn a few hard truths, and reconcile themself to the fact that nobody is perfect. Not even a human statue. Especially not a human statue.
Alternatively: Freeze!. Human statues are caught up in a stick-up, and a crime caper ensues as the statues have to prove their innocence and track down the real culprits, all without moving a muscle.
Any more for any more? COMMENTS. GO. Together let’s nail this pitch.
One thing’s for certain, whichever option gets made: the outro music would be ‘I’m Still Standing’.
In AMT286, Ben from Northumberland complained of the assault upon his nostrils from his grandmother’s strong perfume. Chris from Hook writes:
A friend of mine used to work with a charity and in doing so she used to meet a lot of people who did not smell particularly good. She used to manage not to gag most of the time by dipping her finger into her perfume before meeting them. She’d let it dry, then she’d have a very strongly scented finger. She’d sit there talking to them, and when she needed to, she’d rub her nose or sit with her finger under her nose, and it worked like a charm.
That’s fighting fire with fire – perfume might not drown out perfume but intensify it into a super-perfume, like the MRSA of scents. Perhaps Ben should counter with quite a different sort of smell, like Roquefort or mackerel. It’s a risk, though, and also people might wonder why Ben permanently has his finger beneath his nose, as if he’s covering up a Hitler moustache someone drew on him with permanent marker while he was passed out drunk.
So perhaps Ben should try Kyle from London‘s advice:
I used to work for an organisation which served a sometimes distinctly pungent clientele. We used to dab a bit of Vaseline (or in extreme cases Vicks) under each nostril which apparently catches some of the smell particles. Always worked for me!
Smart! Now all Ben needs to worry about is whether his suspiciously glistening upper lip will make his grandmother whip out a hanky and give his nose a vigorous wipe.
I started listening to the podcast a few months ago when in my monthly scavenging of the internet for all things Zaltzman (I want to marry Andy*), I came across you guys and the rest was history.
The thing is that I listen to the podcast starting from the back episodes every night sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend. Since she is very hot, we end up fucking almost every night and in the excitement, always fail to turn off the podcast.
It has therefore become the soundtrack to our love in a way that it induces Pavlovian responses every time I hear it in the day even which can result in fairly disconcerting scenarios.
Oh good grief. Usually we only hear what a boner-killer AMT is.
Couldn’t you just STOP listening to the show at bedtime? Listen to it at safely non-sexy times, such as in the waiting room at the verruca-burning clinic, or in a queue at a market stall to buy cut-price offal that’s been out all day.
(If you are somebody who actually finds those situations sexy, then you are too priapic to function in this world. But maybe you could get a job as a condom-tester, allowing you to hump all day in lab conditions.)
*Too late, ladies and gents: Andy is already married. Console yourselves with the knowledge that he’d never love you as much as he loves cricket.
Are we going to have to insert Jackass-style warnings into each episode of AMT, insisting that no one attempt to recreate of re-enact any stunt or activity performed on this show? Because we would NEVER have recommended anyone do what Richard in Finsbury Park did:
In AMT last week you talked about Snaffles Mousse, the 70s dish made from canned consommé, Philadelphia and curry powder.
I was morbidly fascinated by the suggested combination and had to make a batch. When it had set, my boyfriend and I had some on toast. It was without doubt the most disgusting thing I have ever eaten. On every level. I can still taste its foulness now.
Answer me this: what is the most revolting dish you have ever cooked up?
It was by accident, but I made paella with frozen elderflower cordial instead of chicken stock. In fact, because even that mouth-trauma did not teach me to label the contents of my freezer, it happened TWICE. Mark me, it is one of the very few circumstances in which elderflower cordial is NOT more palatable than chicken stock.
Readers, tell us in the comments about your own culinary horrorshows. Maybe then Richard in Finsbury Park will try them out, since he appears to have declared war upon his palate.
And as a fun game between courses, speculate upon the ingredients of this recipe, which I found in a cookbook yesterday:
Another Anonymous Man has been in touch regarding Anonymous Man’s question in AMT284:
Great to hear a question about men wearing knickers – I love them myself, but my wife wouldn’t like it so very few people know.
I do wear thongs designed for men, but they just aren’t as slinky as ones designed for women. As you said, you need to be careful with the choice of design – so there’s enough room at the front!
Is it wrong to wear them when I go to the Doctors or Osteopath (both female)? – I expect they’ve seen everything before, but it is “fun”.
Unlike you, my instinct when dressing for medical inspections is to choose underwear with as much coverage as possible. I opt for a full set of Mormon undergarments with another full set of Mormon undergarments beneath, just to be safe.
But I’d hate to ruin your fun, so I can’t tell you your practice is wrong. But it does place you in the same sartorial school as Peter Stringfellow – click here for photographic evidence that is probably NSFW and definitely NSFLife.
We apologise to Olympians, every Canadian alive, and listener David, who says:
Love the podcast, but must indulge some Canadian pride.* In the discussion about medalists in both Winter and Summer Olympics in AMT284, you didn’t mention** Canada’s own Clara Hughes – the only athlete to win multiple medals in each. She won two bronze in cycling in Atlanta in the 1996 summer games, and gold, silver and two more bronze in speed skating over three winter games (2002, 2006 and 2010). Very different than sprinter/bobsledders. Plus she is generally awesome in her own right. Some love for Clara please!
* Don’t worry, David, the two are not incompatible.
** Of course not – it was a question about sport, so frankly it is remarkable that any of us had anything to mention at all.
Listener Tam has written in with a home-grown alternative to accessories made from sharks’ teeth or ivory or whalebone. Take a look at the picture. Can you tell what the pale-coloured beads are made from? No? Read on to find out:
In an earlier podcast, you were discussing a mother saving her baby’s teeth and whether it was appropriate or not for her to share this with friends. Helen commented in a joking manner that, “What was the mother going to do? Make jewelry out of them?”
Of course she could. I had foot surgery several years ago for a condition called hammer toe. My toes were all bunched up and curled under my foot, making it painful at times to walk. So, to fix this issue, a surgeon cut all of the tendons under all off my toes, and then, on five toes, had to remove the middle toe knuckle; three on the left foot, two on the right. I was awake for the two surgeries and watched the entire process. It only took about a half an hour for each foot, they put me in a surgical boot and I walked right out.
However, I thought that it would be wonderful to have a unique souvenir to show for my trauma. So I kept the knuckles. Once I came home, my husband boiled them to get the meat off, and drilled them for me. My mum gave me some rather fitting beads to make a lovely necklace.
So you see, baby teeth are really no big deal. It’s all in perspective.
That’s right – in perspective of having to BOIL YOUR HUMAN FLESH off your OWN BONES. Did you get the idea from Jeffrey Dahmer’s Etsy store?
As well as the above picture of the finished necklace, Tam kindly included photos of the process prior to completion. Because I don’t want to make casual browsers puke till next Tuesday, you’ll have to click through if you wish to see Tam’s foot pre-surgery, her blood-soaked post-operative appendage, or her disembodied toe-knuckles.
Listeners, over the years you’ve treated us to pictures of your necrotic legs, infected piercings and Satanic effigies. Not wishing to seem ungrateful, but you ARE welcome to send us pictures of things that aren’t leaking pus and blood.
Here’s a response to AMT281‘s question concerning the concentration of Blue Posts pubs in central London, from Leon:
Blue Posts are so named (I am led to believe) because the original actual blue posts marked the limits of the hunting ground which Soho was during olden times.
It’s an interesting theory, and quite plausible; can anyone confirm or refute? Or does it relate to some other aspect of Soho history? Are the Blue Posts marking, for instance, the locus of the 1854 cholera epidemic? Or are they simply referring to, er, what were protruding from the trousers of gentlemen roaming Soho, seeking relief?
AMT-brand advice has come in useful for once! Rosie from Kent living in Sardinia confided in AMT281 that she thought her in-laws’ wine was giving her cystitis. Relieved, she writes:
Your answer was bang on! It turns out that the culprit was not the wine but the fabric softener we were using! It ran out and the problem cleared up, where it had only improved when I stopped drinking the wine. In the interests of science I did a double blind drunk test and still no problems. Joy!
The best of AMT 2013 part 1 sent you, as well as us, tootling down Memory Lane. Tom in Glasgow writes:
Deep in the Answer Me This annals of your previous season, you talked about the method Billy Kennedy’s dad employed to present him with his car on his 17th birthday in Neighbours.* Olly then launched into a sob story about how disappointed he was when his father failed to hatch an elaborate unveiling ceremony for his shiny secondhand car.
This reminded me of how my family gifted me my first car on my 17th birthday. As has become the family tradition, my grandfather and uncle came from Oldham and London respectively to the little Oxfordshire village where I used to live with my dear mother and stepfather to celebrate my birthday in the local drinking establishment.
Little did I know, that around the time of my 17th birthday, my grandfather had decided to call it quits as far as his driving career was concerned, and therefore his car was on the market.
During the meal, when it came to opening cards from family and friends, there were two small boxes from my parents. I was to open the smaller one first. Inside, I found a little toy – a silver Japanese car. Puzzled, I unwrapped the second to find an old box of Hovis flour for home baking. Inside this box…was a car key! Either I had had too much to drink, or the plan was slightly convoluted, but I think what I was supposed to do was to combine the little Japanese car with the self-raising Hovis flour to bake one big, fully-functioning automobile.
Five years on the Micra and I are doing well, and have been on many exciting adventures.
Any of the rest of you got good gift-misdirection stories? Present them to us in the comments.
*Originally in AMT250, if you want to catch up on the whole delightful tale.
If Sarah Beeny can set up a dating service, perhaps we can too? Our first specimen could be Tony from Perth, Western Australia, who writes:
I just finished listening to AMT280 and in it you mentioned Chesca who has started working at Disney World Florida. I thought I would put it out there that I am also single and I happen to be heading over to Florida in April next year. So answer me this: do you think I have a chance with Chesca?
Chesca, if you’re reading this: fancy going on a blind date with a man about whom we know nothing aside from he’s an AMT fan and lives in one of the most remote cities in the world, so it would probably be more of a quickie than a relationship? Let us know and we’ll set you kids up!
Caitlin from Breckenridge, Colorado chips in:
I heard that one of your listeners works at Disney World and has the issue of too few men. I have been living in a ski town and find I have the opposite problem. There are far more men then women. The solution to your listener’s problem is move to a ski town!
However it is not all that it appears. The saying goes: “The odds are good, but the goods are odd.” Despite the numbers being in my favor, there are few men that are worth dating. What would your tactic be in sorting out the good boys from the odd ones? Should I create a quiz? Should they have a set of criteria that they must meet?
We couldn’t really venture an answer unless you elaborate upon the nature of the oddness, or even condone assessing potential fun-partners using something as arbitrary as a quiz; but readers, ski down to the comments and let us know your system for sorting the hits from the gits.
Answer Me This! Podcast 