Our pornography expert listeners have written in to elaborate upon the origins of the money shot. Dennis says:
In a porn film, it’s called the money shot not because it cost the most but because unless the male star ejaculates he doesn’t get paid; they will then call on a ‘stunt cock’ who will knock one out and claim the money. Hardly seems fair, but all male porn stars know this when they sign on.
Kristian adds:
‘Money shot’ has come to mean a scene that is disproportionately expensive to the rest of the production. When studios make use of a ‘stunt cock’ where an actor finds he cannot deliver, it raises the cost of that final scene due to the extra expense of the ‘stunt cock’. You actually get more money for the moment of ejaculation than the rest of your contract, as it is after all what the audience is paying for.
Stunt cock sounds like a wonderfully edifying career with great security and plenty opportunity for personal growth.
Following Eleanor from Norwich‘s request in AMT221 that we desexify pole dancing, Jay in Manchester has been in touch to say that not only is pole dancing NOT SEXY, it’s also NOT GIRLY:
I thought I’d let you know that a lot more guys do pole dancing than you might think! Though I agree with Eleanor that pole dancing is very sporty and requires exceptional core muscle strength, it does need more recognition as a great non-slutty sport which has the side benefits of transferable skills in the bedroom.
I’m sure many people wouldn’t find this sexy, but I include a video of my boyfriend from some years ago and I find it delightful to watch. I’d recommend that you put this up on your website too to try and break the perception that pole dancing is a supremely girly thing to do.
As footsoldiers in the war for gender equality, we oblige:
Sam in Sheffield‘s question about icecreamlollies has dredged up your childhood memories of this icy compound; but none can agree on the correct terminology. Says Chris in Worcester:
An ice cream with an ice lolly plonked in the top is known as a Popeye and they’re not a new thing. I used to have them all the time from the ice cream van growing up in the 80’s in sunny East Grinstead.
However Dave refutes:
I can confirm that ice creams with rocket lollies in them were available from any reputable ice cream man in Portsmouth in the 70s. They were either referred to as Witch’s Hats (because upside down the the rocket lolly looked a little like a persons silhouette and the cone like a pointy hat) or Pokey Hats (presumably because it was a lolly poked in an ice cream cone).
I don’t want to cloud the pool of evidence, but I saw this last Sunday on an ice cream van in north London and now I don’t know who or what to believe:
A lot of artists suffer from Difficult Second Album syndrome, but not us. Following our Top 20 smash hit longplayer The Answer Me This! Jubilee, we are delighted to bring you…
The Answer Me This! Sports Day
59 minutes and 33 seconds of all-new material in celebration of the glorious sporting event that will be wreaking havoc with London’s transport system this summer. Buy it now through the AMT Store, iTunes or Amazon.
Join us for a jog through such Olympian questions as what would happen if Boris Johnson dropped the torch, how you can become an Olympic competitor whilst remaining a lazy bastard, how the Ancient Greek athletes prevented their glistening nude flesh from getting sunburn, whether Danny Boyle’s opening ceremony is going to be like this, and why Jewish athletes might be buying haggis shortly before the competition.
We also learn why the men’s Wimbledon trophy is so fruity, how David Attenborough can be blamed for the popularity of snooker, what the chess queen has in common with the Alien queen, what Jack Broughton has in common with Alan Ayckbourn, and what bookies have in common with Abraham Lincoln.
We check in on such record breakers as James Cameron and Lee Redmond, and face the biggest sports question of all: what IS a sport? And do you actually have to get out of your chair to do one?
We must offer big thanks to Sam Pythagoras Pay and Amy Smith for the jingles, which alone are worth the £2.49 RRP. Eg:
NB The Answer Me This! Sports Day is in no way officially affiliated with the London Olympics. They looked at our waist measurements and said there’s no way they could endorse that.
We’re as surprised as you to discover that Answer Me This! Episode 221 opens with a heated discussion upon the topic, ‘What is art?’ Check us out with our high brows!
Naturally our brows don’t stay high for long; in decreasing order of highfalutingness, we talk about:
Edward Lear
double-ended ice cream
Tracey Emin Jeremy Deller‘s teenage parties
the Marquis de Sade
firefighters
bridesmaids
pole dancing
Charlie Chaplin drowning horribly
the pull-out method
and Annabel Chong.
Plus: Olly is horrified to discover that there’s a boarding school-style communal wanking game that he’d never heard of; Helen knows how to make anything unsexy, using ham; and Martin the Sound Man would like to remind you that you only have a couple of weeks left to enter his Science Songwriter of the Future competition, so make the old man happy because he’s got a bad ear this week.
In this week’s Bit of Crap on the App Helen gives you a great tip for making new friends on late-night public transport, based on her recent encounter with a stranger’s pelvis on the Victoria Line. That stranger’s pelvis could be all yours, if you avail yourself of the app on iDevices or Android! Don’t worry if you’re married; the pelvis won’t be worrying about that either.
We don’t want your pelvises, but we do want your QUESTIONS, so thrust them our way by emailing answermethispodcast@googlemail.com or leaving voicemails to the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or Skype answermethis). As a reward, you may watch the video below of Eleanor from Norwich’s pole dancing team going about their totally sexless business.
Here’s a question of Cruises from Anna from Switzerland:
From time to time – not very often – I read German tabloids. There is not that much to read though, and apart from all the other useless stuff they write about, they constantly print pictures of Tom Cruise’s biological daughter and her fancy clothes and Nicole Kidman and her biological daughters.
If I remember correctly, when Cruise and Kidman were still a married couple, they adopted two kids. So, answer me this: What happened to them? Did Tom and Nicole just send them back to the orphanage, or put them up for another adoption? Or are they adults now and happy not to belong to either family anymore?
Isabella and Connor Cruise have made two massive mistakes, leading to their tabloid nonprominence:
1. Now aged 20 and 17 respectively, they’re far too big and old to be carted around by their parents at every convenient photo opportunity as Suri Cruise is.
2. They’re adopted. The tabloids are notoriously less interested in adopted than biological kids, and pictures of the former are worth far less to them financially. Take the Jolie-Pitt Child Legion, for instance: tabs love the blonde blue-eyed members but seem ambivalent about the Cambodian, Vietnamese and Ethiopian ones, who are of course sleeper agents for Team Aniston anyway.
In case you were wondering, Connor Cruise is now a DJ and you can follow him on Twitter, if you must. Isabella Cruise, if the pap shots are any indication, has a full-time job as Suri’s blankie carrier.
Here’s another question about liquids from Rob, who claims to be stuck at work. From his question, I’m guessing he works at an olive oil factory, and he isn’t too good at his job. He asks:
What’s the difference between olive oil, virgin olive oil and extra virgin olive oil?
Several pounds in price. And a vow of chastity.
Alright FINE. There’s more, but it’s a bit boring and technical, ok? I was merely trying to save you with glibness.
I’ve checked my weekly newsletters from the International Olive Oil Council, which says that olive oil is ‘Oil obtained solely from the fruit of the olive tree (Olea europaea L.) to the exclusion of oils obtained using solvents or re-esterification processes and of any mixture with oils of other kinds.’
So, oil made out of olives. Simple enough so far.
Here’s what they have to say about virgin olive oil: ‘Olive oil fit for consumption as it is. Olive oil obtained from the fruit of the olive tree (Olea europea L.) solely by mechanical or other physical means under conditions, particularly thermal conditions, that do not lead to alterations in the oil, and which has not undergone any treatment other than washing, decantation, centrifugation and filtration.
Virgin olive oil which has a free acidity, expressed as oleic acid, of not more than 2 grams per 100 grams and the other characteristics of which correspond to those fixed for this category in the IOC standard (COI/T.15/NC No 3).’
Everyone still following? Oil. Made of olives. Not heated up too much. No more than 2% acidic. Numbers and letters. So what of the extra virgin olive oil, that which Jamie Oliver pours over his cornflakes? That is:
‘Virgin olive oil fit for consumption as it is which has a free acidity, expressed as oleic acid, of not more than 0.8 grams per 100 grams, and the other characteristics of which correspond to those fixed for this category in the IOC standard (COI/T.15/NC No 3).’
So there I was, thinking the adjectives referred to how many pressings the olives had been through or something, but actually it’s all a matter of acid. Back to work, everybody.
Demetrios has been in touch with a pH-interesting response to AMT220:
In reference to Rory Gallagher’s guitar and the question of rusting sweat, there is a phenomenon of people whose sweat is particularly rust-inducing. They are called, creatively, “Rusters”, and though I am not one, I know of some Rusters who can’t safely handle metal, because the surface of whatever they’re holding will actually begin to oxidize slightly if held long enough.
I have not researched this before, but a brief Google search yields two articles from 1979 in the Acta Dermato-Venereologica which test and confirm a subtle degree of corrosion in low-copper metals from palmar sweat. Certainly, the effect is weak, and does not necessarily translate to corrosion of guitar-surface lacquer, the chemistry of which I don’t know.
Personally, I think that the power to very, very slowly degrade metal is a lame mutant power, and should be the basis for a super team called “The Corroders”.
Well the craze for superhero films is showing few signs of waning, so readers, go to the comments, write the plot summary for the first installment of the potential Corroders franchise, and we’ll send out a pitch to the Weinsteins.
If Martin from Bolton pays you a visit, don’t let him use your loo:
My wife, 12-year-old son and I were invited around to our very good neighbour’s house for drinks and food for the England-Sweden game the other day.
After a several hours and a few beers our neighbors starting talking about what a good job they had done in refurbishing and decorating their main bathroom upstairs and that I should go and have a look. So off I went and yes it was really nice n- ew bathroom sink and toilet etc. I lifted the seat on the toilet so I could have a pee. Then I went to lower the seat (I am a well-trained house husband) and to my horror it slipped and fell hard and cracked.
I went back downstairs and pretended nothing happened and just commented on how nice the new bathroom was. Now I feel really bad. There were a few children at the party and I thought they might be the prime suspects. Do you think I should just come clean? I have not seen them since but we are having them round to ours soon.
Poor Martin! It’s not your fault they bought a flimsy seat from the pound shop. Nor that your house-training came back to bite you in the arse, metaphorically.
I think that too much time has passed for you to come clean without it seeming really weird, and also, you might as well allow the innocent bystander children to be blamed – they won’t know or care, or be ridden by the shame with which you are currently beset. But readers, do you too think Martin should just live with his guilt? Go to the comments and tell him how to fix this situation, because I’d feel terrible if Martin’s life henceforth turns into a toilety version of ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’, being followed everywhere by the supernatural sound of flushing until he loses his mind.
As AMT devotees, you know that we don’t shy away from the most serious questions the human mind can concoct. Remember AMT198 last year, when we boldly tackled “What makes a pie a pie?” Today, in Answer Me This! Episode 220, we broach another foodstuff with an identity crisis – salad:
Seriously though, how can this and this and this and this be even nominally related? Pffft.
Anyway, tossed into the conversational salad this week are:
facts about Eugene, Oregon
Hamlet, the Madonna of his time
Madonna, the sexual bully of her time
alternating current vs. direct current
dentist chair vs. electric chair
Natalie Portman Hershlag
French Freemasons William Kemmler
Pizza Express
rainbow parties Rory Gallagher’s guitar
and
Spin the Bottle.
Plus: Olly impresses the ladies with his great big throbbing veins; Helen discovers that Thomas Edison was a right cnut; and Martin the Sound Man plays coy about his age. Don’t worry Martin, you don’t look a day under 55.
This week’s Bit of Crap on the App is more crap-related than usual, as it features a question from Stephy from Bristol about the point of patterned toilet paper. Along the way we learn upon what Simon Cowell and the Queen probably wipe their bottoms. The rich educational resource that is the Answer Me This! app is available for iDevices or Android, you’ll be relieved to know. Relieved. Ho ho ho.
Enough japery for one week; but if you want to listen to more of our japery next week, you are obliged to send us a QUESTION: emails go to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com, voicemails to the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or Skype answermethis).
Time for our weekly wedding-related question, which today issues from Nick from Colorado:
During a wedding ceremony, the question is asked, “If anyone knows any reason these two should not be joined in matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace.” What the hell could somebody say that would make everybody stop what they’re doing and leave?
Say for instance, it is revealed that the groom has cheated on the bride; does the bride not have the right to say, “Go on with the wedding”? What kind of system is in place to proceed ceremoniously after such an interruption?
Nick has omitted some important words: ‘lawful impediment’ (/modern-language equivalent). Though of course poor form, the groom cheating on the bride is not actually unlawful. Remember one of literature’s greatest examples of someone not forever holding their peace: in Jane Eyre, when [SPOILER!] the heroine and Mr Rochester’s wedding ceremony is scuppered by Mr Mason turning up and mentioning that Mr Rochester already has a wife up in the attic, and their marriage is still legally binding even though she’s a bit nutty and no longer good-looking.
Aside from bigamy, lawful impediments might include the bride and/or groom being underage, or too closely blood-related; although in Britain at least, these possibilities have to be discounted beforehand else you will be denied a marriage licence. I assume that our registrars have nonetheless kept the phrase in the script because the audience would be disappointed to be denied the famous moment of tension, followed by either OMGOMGOMG SCREAMING TEARS WEDDING CATACLYSM or relieved nervous giggling.
Actually, let’s push aside Nick’s questions for a more interesting one: readers, have you ever attended a wedding where this happened? Or where the bride and groom split up at any point during the proceedings of the day? Speak now (in the comments) or forever hold your peace (until our next call for your responses).
Of course I don’t wish misery upon any of the people I know, but I do think it would be a bit amazing to see, and admit it – so do you. You’re tired of all these weddings where everyone’s happy and well-behaved and no relationships go down in flames, aren’t you? AREN’T YOU?
Cait from Bristol but currently in Orlando got a little wild in her hotel room and now is suffering the shame that inevitably follows:
I am staying in a hotel and have just accidentally got chocolate all over the white bed sheets. Unfortunately, the chocolate looks a lot like I’ve shat myself.
So please answer me this: do I leave housekeeping a note explaining that it’s chocolate and not shit? Do I do nothing and let them think I pooed the bed? Or something else?
It’s so delightfully British of you, Cait, to think of leaving a note! If it makes you feel better, by all means do that – or leave the chocolate wrapper in the bed as an indicator of what has gone on in there (NB also a useful cover in the event of you actually shitting the bed).
However I imagine that the average hotel housekeeper has far too many rooms to clean to spend much time analysing your suspicious-looking stains, or sniffing them to ascertain their origin, or sending off a sample for lab testing. Moreover, they will have surely seen so many scenes of filth and degradation during their careers that your little one-woman scat party would barely warrant an eyebrow-raise.
The Answer Me This! Sports Day
July 2, 2012 by Helen ZaltzmanA lot of artists suffer from Difficult Second Album syndrome, but not us. Following our Top 20 smash hit longplayer The Answer Me This! Jubilee, we are delighted to bring you…
The Answer Me This! Sports Day
59 minutes and 33 seconds of all-new material in celebration of the glorious sporting event that will be wreaking havoc with London’s transport system this summer. Buy it now through the AMT Store, iTunes or Amazon.
We also learn why the men’s Wimbledon trophy is so fruity, how David Attenborough can be blamed for the popularity of snooker, what the chess queen has in common with the Alien queen, what Jack Broughton has in common with Alan Ayckbourn, and what bookies have in common with Abraham Lincoln.
We check in on such record breakers as James Cameron and Lee Redmond, and face the biggest sports question of all: what IS a sport? And do you actually have to get out of your chair to do one?
We must offer big thanks to Sam Pythagoras Pay and Amy Smith for the jingles, which alone are worth the £2.49 RRP. Eg:
NB The Answer Me This! Sports Day is in no way officially affiliated with the London Olympics. They looked at our waist measurements and said there’s no way they could endorse that.
SUBSCRIBE WITH iTUNES • AMT ALBUMS • BEST OF • EPISODES • FAQ
• iPHONE APP • ANDROID APP • FACEBOOK • TWITTER • YOUTUBE • MERCH •
Tags: Abraham Lincoln, American football, Ancient Greece, aramith, aristocrats, athletes, athletics, ball games, ball sports, balls, banknotes, baseball, BBC, betting, billiards, Bjork, Blackburn Rovers, BMW, boardgames, bookies, bookmaking, Boris Johnson, Boudin Bakery, bow ties, bowling, bowling balls, boxing, boxing ring, Bristol Rovers, bruise, cameramen, cash, celluloid, ceremonies, charity shops, chess pieces, circumcision, clothes, Coca Cola, colour TV, commentary, commentators, corkscrew, costume, costumes, cricket, cricket jumpers, cricket whites, crickets, curling, Danny Boyle, David Attenborough, decor, depression, diet, diving, duck, Edinburgh, egg, elephants, enswell, equestrianism, erections, etymology, exercise, feminism, fingernails, fitness, flame, food, football, football commentary, football commentators, football teams, foreskins, games, gender, gender inequality, Gettysburg Address, golden duck, grand, grandmothers, grandparents, Greco-Roman wrestling, Greece, Greeks, Guinness World Records, haggis, haymaker, health, healthy food, heirlooms, history, home decor, homoeroticism, horse, horses, injury, ivory, Jack Broughton, James Cameron, jews, Jiminy Cricket, Jimmy Cricket, jockstraps, junk food, Kevin Spacey, l'oeuf, Lady Macbeth, lamb's guts, left-handedness, Leona Lewis, leotard, Linford Christie, Linford's lunchbox, Local Hero, London, London 2012, love, marathon, Margaret Thatcher, Mariana Trench, Match of the Day, McDonald's, meat, medals, metaphysics, Michael Phelps, Minis, money, monkey, mouse, Muhammad Ali, nails, notes, nudity, oil, Olly's grandma, Olly's mum, Olympiad, Olympic flame, Olympic torch, Olympics, opening ceremony, paint by numbers, painting, paintings, pancakes, penis, penises, Persia, phallus, phenolic resin, phonebox, physical exertion, pictures, pineapple, piss, plastic, plastics, podiums, pogo stick, poker, pole vault, polo, pony, Pot Black, prizes, prosthetics, Pugilistic Society, punching, purple, Queen, Raj, record breakers, Robert Plant, Rovers, rugby, runners, running, San Francisco, score, Scotland, Se7en, serial killers, sexism, sexist boardgames, shah mat, shooting, shotguns, slang, slowest marathon, snooker, snooker balls, soccer, sourdough, southpaws, sponsors, sponsorship, sport, sports, sports kit, sportsman, sportswear, sportswoman, statues, steak, sumo, support, sweat, swimming, team names, Ted Heath, televised sport, telly, the Queen, theme tunes, torch, tracksuits, Trainspotting, Tranmere Rovers, trophies, TV coverage, Twitter, undergarments, underwear, unfit, urination, Usain Bolt, Visa, Vladimir Putin, volleyball, waistcoats, Wanderers, Wimbledon, winners, winning, Winter Olympics, wrestling, YouTube
Posted in albums, extracurricular activities, frippery | 3 Comments »