Here’s an email about love, both romantic and fraternal, from Freddie:
This is a question about the Bro Code, specifically the clauses that apply to girls.
As all Bros know, there are well defined criteria for ladies who are out of bounds, one of which being “Your friend specifically told you he wanted her.”
Here is my dilemma. I went to a local coffee shop with my housemate on Sunday. This was the first time I had visited said coffee shop, and I commented to him that I had suddenly fallen in deep, romantic love with one of the baristas. He then revealed he had been visiting this coffee shop himself for several months, expressly because he himself was also in love with her.
He has informed me in no uncertain terms that if I attempt to date the barista, it is in direct contravention of the Bro Code.
Answer me this: what’s a bro to do? I’ve been back to this coffee shop three times since then and I’m definitely in love with her. I plan on asking her out within a week whereas he hasn’t made a move in months. Can I ask her out and keep my Bro License?
I’m not best placed to answer this question; partly because I’m not a bro, but mainly because the word ‘bro’ is repugnant to me. Yes, even when people are using it with mild irony. It is like the linguistic equivalent of acid reflux.
So, to put it in language I CAN stomach: this is the same situation as arises in Chaucer’s ‘The Knight’s Tale‘ (AKA bros before prose). In that, they settle it because [600-year-old SPOILER ALERT!] the god Saturn intervenes and one of them dies so the other one gets the girl by default.
In your case, Freddie, rather than relying on a god and one of you dying, maybe you could simply see which of you the barista prefers – if indeed she is single, heterosexual and has any interest in either of you, because she is a SENTIENT WOMAN and not merely your prize. If she DOES like one of you, the other should retire from the contest with grace. If she likes neither, the Bro Code can continue to be adhered to without underlying disharmony.
If that solution is not satisfactory to you, hire a solicitor to comb the Bro Code for loopholes. But it’ll cost you.
To solve AMT254 mystery of the continuing existence of Artex, Pete has written in to say:
My dad works for Artex, and I can reveal that one of their biggest sellers is a sort of plaster stuff for covering up horrible Artex.
Makes you wonder if that’s what they had in mind all along.
I can accept that conspiracy theory far easier than I could accept the notion that there are still people out there who actually wish to smear Artex all over their interiors. Of their houses, I mean. What you people do with your own bodies is none of my damn business.
In Answer Me This! Episode 254, we consider whether it’s acceptable to share creamy substances with your partner in public. Ice cream, that is. What did you think we meant, you dirty birdy?
We also discuss:
netball
space food
Artex AMT wedding lists
Tanzanian supu vs. Jewish chicken soup
tiger penis vs. whitebait penis
the Kennedy Space Center gift shop
greetings card inspiration
cleaning up after your parents
goat lungs
and
Nossex.
Plus: there’s only one Olly Mann, apart from the other one (and the imposter one); Helen doesn’t know where you need to go to find stimulating material for your braces fetish, so don’t even bother asking; and Martin the Sound Man is crackers. But you can follow him on Instagram if you like crackers (or, eggs and pictures of clouds).
Speaking of clouds, we’re very happy to tell you that we’re now on SoundCloud! The AMT cumulonimbus is amassing and ready to rain podcasts on you at SoundCloud.com/answermethis.
In this week’s Bit of Crap on the App (available for iDevices and Android) we throw shade at one of the biggest menaces of the 21st century: cupcakes. Crapcakes, more like! Amirite?
It just remains for us to request your QUESTIONS for forthcoming episodes: leave voicemails on the Question Line by calling 0208 123 5877 or Skype ID answermethis; or email answermethispodcast@googlemail.com.
Thanks to John, we now all know how to upset the fairground economy by loading up on horrible cuddly toys above the odds:
Last week when you discussed the grabby machine, Olly seemed amazed that the inquisitor’s friend had been successful at the ‘game’.
I would have shared this logical scepticism until on recent trip to Bournemouth I watched amazed as a scruffy-looking older bloke in a grubby mac was playing the machine and winning more or less every other go! He was putting the prizes in a big plastic bag.
After I’d been standing and watching aghast for about fifteen minutes or so, he told me to fuck off, picked up his bag of plushies (as our American cousins call them) and left. I watched him cross the road to a similar arcade, take a key out of his pocket, open the window of the grabby machine and pour all the prizes from his bag into it! A very low cost restocking.
In case you wonder, his technique was to use the initial go to not grab but hook with just one hook causing the teddy or similar fluffy grotesque to roll on top of the stack, then due to its elevated position the grabber could take a firm grip on the next go. His success rate was extremely high!
I have since tried this technique with a modicum of success. I think looking out for recently filled machines is key to the level of success he enjoyed.
That man really has it made. He gets to enjoy all the fun of the grabbing (a questionable amount) and he’s supplying his own business all the while. I don’t know why he’s not wearing a smart business suit, but maybe the grubby mac is his equivalent of Steve Jobs’s perennial t-shirt. He’s so successful, he doesn’t need his clothes to brag about it.
In the summer when I was 8 or 9 I was super thirsty and poured a glass of what I thought was iced tea over some ice cubes. I took a huge long drink (as you do when you are super thirsty) just to realize my mother had put beef stock in the fridge in what she usually made iced tea. My stomach heaved and I gagged, didn’t throw up but felt sick for hours afterward.
To this day, some 40 years late, I feel physically ill and strong revulsion when I think about it. So gross.
Congratulations, Amy; that’s even worse than the paella I made with elderflower cordial instead of chicken stock. You may think that doesn’t sound too bad, but imagine prawns with elderflower, or chorizo with elderflower, or onion with elderflower. If your imagination is at all accurate, it will tell you that that is NOT an agreeable combo.
Herron has written in with eye-witness experience of the Disney sword in the stone experience as speculated upon in AMT253:
As of 2006, it was still being done. My wife & I took our 2 boys, ages 4 and 7 at the time, to Disneyland in California. Merlin (long white beard, purple robe & hat) gathered people around a rock with an anvil on it and a sword handle sticking out of the anvil. He had some burly man try to pull the sword out but (ha ha ha) no go. Then, Merlin called to my older son, Cole, to try. Shazam….he pulls the sword up (though it never came completely out … Merlin’s good, but Disney lawyers are more powerful). There were cheers; burly man looks sheepish; all are happy.
Contrary to what you said, there was no ruling over the Magic Kingdom for the day (just as well, not sure I want to live in a land ruled by a 7-year-old). He got to wear a crown for about 30 seconds. But he did get to take home a special medallion.
Kris has also written in with the inside scoop on this magical weapon-pulling. WARNING: If you don’t want THE MAGIC RUINED, do not continue reading this post. If your eyes are still following these words, we are NOT responsible for the destruction of your dreams. Ok? Kris says:
I’ve worked at Disneyland Paris now for ten years, in the show department, imagineering and I’m even one of the voices on the phone when you call Disney.
I felt I should settle the discussion about the sword in Fantasyland. I’m afraid it really isn’t that exciting and does spoil the magic slightly.
Quite simply there are two swords. The sword that is there during the day is only a partial sword that is bolted to the floor. It has a slit through the blade where the bolt attaches that allows it to move up and down slightly but will never come loose. (You can hear it clinking when you try.)
There is a tiny door themed into the side of the rock which a technician can access the bottom of the blade and release it. I’m afraid no mechanics, no tricker, no clever release.
In the past, when they have done show with merlin the sword is simply changed prior and after the show. Most times in the shows it isn’t even release and just comes further out of the rock.
(Disclaimer, this is only true at Disneyland Paris – the other parks could be very different.)
Sorry to spoil the magic.
I’m crushed, Kris. CRUSHED. But not so crushed that I can’t wonder what an ‘imagineer’ is and how I can become one.
We kept the picture of this monster small, but click on it to see the big version. But BEWARE, it may make you spit out your breakfast. But, believe it or not, someone wishes to own this bear SO MUCH that it has caused a rift in a friendship. Hear all about it in Answer Me This! Episode 253:
Today we discuss:
summer jobs
summer camp
rat poison
Australia’s bush capital
Helen vs. Michael Jackson Refreshers vs. Refreshers Crash vs. Crash dying and decaying alone
handmade cheques
funfair capitalism
the sword in Disney’s stone
and
lobster hunting.
Plus: Olly is all about the winning, not the taking part; from humble childhood aspirations, Helen grew up into this (warning: disturbing); and Martin the Sound Man seems upset that Kids These Days prefer Nemo to Pinocchio. Nobody likes a fibber, Martin.
In this week’s Bit of Crap on the App (available for iDevices and Android), Olly describes how the late Margaret Thatcher out-Beadled the late Jeremy Beadle. Maybe he pranked her back in the 80s and this was her comeback. What a pair!
As usual, we invite you to send us your QUESTIONS: leave voicemails on the Question Line by calling 0208 123 5877 or Skype ID answermethis; or email answermethispodcast@googlemail.com. From those, more AMT will be begotten.
Our next questioneer Voni from Birmingham is like, baby, baby, baby urrrgh, like baby, baby, baby, NOOOO:
Last weekend a friend of mine had her first baby. As per usual with new parents, she’s been putting pictures of the baby on Facebook and everybody and their mum’s been cooing over them. I’m really happy for her, as I know she really wanted this child and she’s obviously delighted with him. However, I just do not care!
I think I’m suffering some sort of grown up fatigue, as everyone around me at the moment is either buying houses, getting married or popping sprogs. Although I’ve been with my boyfriend for ten years, I have no interest in getting married or having kids. This is very difficult for people to comprehend, and I’m constantly barraged with questions about when I’m getting hitched or knocked up. One charming person even said, ‘He can’t really love you if he’s not proposed to you!’ Quite frankly, I’m sick and bloody tired of it.
I think my friend having this baby is just the straw that broke the camel’s back. I’m so tired about hearing about other people’s kids and wedding plans, I just can’t muster the enthusiasm required of me for these situations. So, answer me this: Am I a horrible person for not caring about this baby?
If you are, then you can join the legion of horrible people who email us similarly lamenting the onset of the new generation, especially when it shits up their Facebook feeds with countless photos of infants.
Happily for you, software has come to your rescue: unbaby.me is a Chrome plug-in that replaces baby photos on Facebook with pictures of other things.
I’ll let you know when they come up with a plug-in to block out mortgage- and marriage-chat.
Release the ‘Political Correctness gone MAD’ hounds, to chomp on this question from Nathan from Nottingham:
Recently my wife bought a load of stuff from the community art shop including a bag full of pipe cleaners of various colours and sizes.
As I was playing with them with my nearly-2-year-old son, showing him how to bend them into a little pair of glasses or a stickman, I said, “These are called pipe cleaners.” Then my wife piped up (pardon the pun), “You can’t call them pipe cleaners any more, it’s not politically correct.” Apparently it would be promoting pipe-smoking.
Call me stupid but up until that moment I had no idea they were called pipe cleaners because they were used to clean pipes, especially not smoker’s pipes. I thought it was just hypothetical cos, yeah, that would clean a tiny pipe if you ever needed to clean one.
I asked about their new name. They’re now called… chenille sticks. Seriously?! If we have to rename them why not focus on what they are for (craft wire?) or what they are like. I suggested the name “fuzzy benders” before realising that probably wouldn’t catch on.
So answer me this, would any kids really take up pipe smoking because of exposure to pipe cleaners? And can you please think of a better name than ‘chenille sticks’ (or ‘fuzzy benders’)?
Readers, do propel yourselves to the comments to answer the following questions:
1. Did you take up smoking as a direct result of playing with pipe cleaners when you were a child?
2. Have you ever cleaned any sort of pipe with a pipe cleaner? (Keep your answers U-rated, thanks)
3. Since hardly anybody is going to answer ‘Yes’ to question 2, if pipe cleaners rarely actually clean pipes, what would be a more appropriate name for pipe cleaners? (Again, I invite you to keep it suitable for the children.)
4. The term ‘politically correct’ hardly makes sense, does it?
Last week, we discussed the peculiar wince arising from eating something that tasted completely different to your expectation. Davi from Chicago comments:
In the vein of your discussion in episode 252, I have a story to tell. My first year in college, my friend Big Mike came into our apartment, giddy with excitement because he had just illicitly obtained a handle of cheap whiskey. He left momentarily to go to the bathroom or something — an opportunity my friends and I took to pour his whiskey out into another container and refill the handle with diluted soy sauce, which very convincingly reproduces the color of bad whiskey. When Big Mike came back, we all pretended to be drinking some and encouraged him to do the same. Needless to say, he was not very pleased.
I am very pleased though, Davi – pleased that you didn’t replace the whiskey with piss. I think that’s what we were all expecting from the first couple of sentences of that email, right?
Here’s what Rachel from Sale really was not expecting:
I was at a National Trust car park with my family, sitting in the car and we were just about to leave. My mum then passed me a conker and told me it was a Malteaser. I thanked her and put it into my mouth. Instead of chocolate I tasted soil and spat it on the floor. It was disgusting!! Answer me this: why do parents play tricks like this on their children??
Ahem – because it’s funny, parents, am I right? Until your beloved child chokes to death on a conker.
And shame on Rachel from Sale’s mum for pulling a prank on NATIONAL TRUST SOIL!
AMT252’s special guest Isy Suttie is kinder in spirit than the average casting agent, as demonstrated by Ben:
After listening to last week’s podcast, the point was raised that on casting calls the casting director might not want to hurt your feelings.
However a few years ago I had an audition for the stable boy in the HBO series Game of Thrones. On the casting call it said “small very fat stable boy”.
I didn’t feel that this was written with feeling in mind, especially as this was sent to young teenage boys!
PS I didn’t get the part… I wasn’t fat enough.
That’s what they told you. Maybe they were taking care of your feelings by not saying you were too crap at acting, or the wrong kind of fat. Or that horses bolt at the sight of you. (No offence, Ben; I’m purely speculating.)
Answer Me This! Podcast 