Well, listeners, this is it. The last episode for a month – Answer Me This! Episode 191:
This classic episode is available to BUY NOW for just 79p at the Answer Me This! Store, through a secure server, without DRM restriction. CLICK HERE to find out more and support our podcast. (This helps keep our most recent episodes free)
In our last yaps before shutting up for a month, we speak of:
Gossip Girl‘s out-of-character choice of search engine
Tate & Lyle
Envirofone
Jon Snow’s laptop
cinder toffee Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
Samson speed-dating
iPhones vs. traditional toilet reading
bio vs. non-bio
blue plastic champagne flutes vs. classiness
Rihanna’s Navy vs. Bruno Mars’s Hooligans vs. K£sha’s Animals
female magnets
and
paediatric brine.
Plus: Olly reveals the secret to his Oxford success – York Notes; Helen has worrying plans to become a major soak over the break; and Martin the Sound Man will be jetting off to space on the back of the Philips Man Iron. Brrrrm brrm!
This week’s Bonus Bit of Crap on the App is about newsreader Kay Burley’s eggs, which are available exclusively to denizens of the Sky News make-up room – unlike the AMT app, which is available to any old chump with an iPhone, iPad or Android device.
Though we are off-air for a month, we’ll still be updating this site, and more importantly collecting QUESTIONS for the new series. So send them along, by leaving voicemails on the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or Skype answermethis) and sending emails to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com.
We hope you have a smashing month, and we’ll you on October 13th, bright and early!
Ben from Southampton has done the research that we couldn’t do in the fields of Wales the other week:
I just listened to episode 189 where the provenance of Ferris wheels came up. You’re right that they were named after a Mr Ferris but here are some further details, as learned from the brilliant book The Devil In The White City (movie rights owned by Leonardo DiCaprio).
The Chicago World Exposition at the end of the 1800s was tasked with outdoing the previous one in Paris where the Eiffel Tower was unveiled. A contest was held for the centrepiece of the fair and while many people submitted designs for towers, Daniel Burnham, architect and director of the fair, wanted something different so as not to be seen as copying Paris. The Ferris wheel was the design he picked from the competition entries.
It’s a brilliant book following two concurrent stories – one, Burnham’s impossible task of building the amazing Exposition against seemingly impossible obstacles, and the other being the story of HH Holmes, America’s first known/documented modern psychopath who is alleged to have used the Expo as a cover for killing hundreds of young women (I think it can only be proven that he killed somewhere in the teens but there’s reason to believe it was many, many more).
I highly recommend the book if you are into either the macabre or architecture.
It sounds like a treat! I’m looking for books to read during our month off; readers, please make your recommendations in the comments. They don’t need to be about the macabre or architecture, although I do imagine these to be common enthusiasms amongst you.
They make a mockery of what you said in AMT177!!!!1!!11zomg!!
To which we say: a) yes, thankyou; b) no they bloody well don’t! To recap, we answered the following question from Richard from Dronfield:
In a world where we have amazing powerful telescopes and imaging technology that can see clearly to far corners of our universe and spy out evidence of potential life in far of galaxies, how come nobody has ever produced a half decent photograph of the moon landing sites from Earth, pointed out that we blatantly have left our junk on the moon and then waved this smoking gun evidence it in the faces of all the annoyingly persistent moon landing Conspiracy Monkeys.
You see what he says there, in that question that we answered as it was asked? ‘From Earth’. FROM EARTH. Not from the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter a mere 13 miles from the moon’s surface, which gives it an advantage of approximately 221,450 miles. So you can shut your jeering taunting faces, or we will come round to your house (or workplace) and shove the Hubble telescope into YOUR lunar module.
And even when/if someone does manufacture an earthbound telescope good enough to see every crumb of soil in the imprint of Neil Armstrong’s moonboot, it still won’t disabuse those ‘Conspiracy Monkeys’ of their irrefutable notions. Even if you went to the trouble of taking them all the way to the moon on a flight simulator followed by a fake moon set in a disused TV studio, you’ll never convince them that the Apollo missions went anywhere near the Magic Space-Plate, especially not in the face of the overwhelming evidence that it’s just a large round billboard propped up near the flat earth’s rim.
I’m going to steer clear of the buses in Seattle, after this question from Joe in Seattle:
Answer me this: would you rather sit directly beside a naked man on the bus or a fully-clothed man with his wiener hanging out?
I’d go for the naked man, because I’d assume he was either a harmless naturist, or a groom from a 1980s wedding farce who’s managed to unchain himself from the lamppost and swim back to the mainland, and is now on the bus to his own wedding where he has to stop the bride saying ‘I do’ to the evil best man who has sabotaged him thus.
Whereas a man who was clothed but whose wiener was unleashed, I would assume that he was keeping it easily accessible as he finds buses sexually arousing. I don’t want to sit next to anyone who finds public transport erotically stimulating. Nor would I want to be there when he finished.
Helen in Manchester has discovered why publishers no longer accept handwritten manuscripts:
Recently, a friend of mine wrote me a story, which was sealed in an envelope. Upon opening the envelope, I quickly realised that I could not read his handwriting! I brushed this issue aside by saying that I would read it later, and quickly changed the subject.
Two weeks later, he is still asking for feedback! So far, I have assured him how good I thought it was, however the lies are starting to wear thin!
So answer me this: how can I tell him that his handwriting is illegible, without hurting his feelings? Or should I simply say nothing, and continue to lie, hoping he never calls my bluff?
Because of course, the latter approach, of a valued friend constantly lying about something clearly very important to the scrawly-handed party, would be LESS hurtful than a short, sharp, “I’m sorry, I’m having trouble reading your handwriting – any chance you could type it up for me?” Have any of you readers ever really been wounded by your handwriting receiving negative reviews? Correct me if I’m wrong, but last time I checked, Manchester was not 12th-century China and therefore your friend is unlikely to lose his position in society if his calligraphy is a bit sub-par. Therefore, Helen in Manchester, stop making a piece of paper and ink into a problem, and start being honest.
Last week our special guest Jon Ronson couldn’t hide his revulsion at the idea of having to perform a solo trumpet recital at school, although he did also acknowledge that our anonymous trumpet whiz was obligated to go ahead with it. Aidan from Bedford has the following advice for the girl to minimise the pain that he believes will be suffered by all concerned:
She could say to her head of year that she will do it, but the piece of music should be something fun like the James Bond theme tune or the Wallace and Gromit theme.
Hmm, I’m not convinced – that could be even more mortifying, no? Anyway, Luca presents the counter-argument:
I think she should do it, without any shame!
I passed grade 8 piano when I was fourteen and my headmaster also thought this was mind-blowing so he asked me to play this piece for the whole school.
I too thought my life would be over; then afterwards, a lot of boys (it was an all-boys school) came up to me and congratulated me and admitted that they were sort of impressed, even the “rough” ones.
So I don’t think she should just assume that everyone will hate it! Surely there are people who will enjoy it, and it’s a fun experience.
Look! Photographic evidence that journalist, writer, broadcaster and jolly nice chap Jon Ronson performed his special guestular duties! More importantly, here’s the audio evidence, namely Answer Me This! Episode 190:
This classic episode is available to BUY NOW for just 79p at the Answer Me This! Store, through a secure server, without DRM restriction. CLICK HERE to find out more and support our podcast. (This helps keep our most recent episodes free)
Things we learn from Jon:
i) that to be cast on reality telly, you only need to wave your Prozac prescription in front of the producers’ eyes;
ii) how he could have been Captain Birdseye – no, really!
iii) how the 21st-century KKK are getting rusty;
iv) how you have to speak up when you’re on Conan. We’ll remember that, as it’s bound to come in handy soon in our lives.
We also talk of:
psychopathy (unsurprisingly)
conspiracy theories (ditto) Pleasurewood Hills
Disney character breakfast
Mr Blobby vs. Woody Bear
Noel Edmonds’s Winnebago vs. Les Dennis’s Winnebago
James Middleton’s arse vs. Pippa Middleton’s arse George Galloway’s milky mortification
David Icke
the name ‘Beryl’
traffic cops
the Little Mermaid’s mobility issues
and
pigtails.
This week’s Bonus Bit of Crap on the App (available on iPhone, iPad and Android) is Jon venting his wrath at his archenemy Yo! Sushi. If that whets your appetite for more Jon Ronson, do read his latest book The Psychopath Test, visit jonronson.com, follow @jonronson on Twitter, and buy the Guardian on Saturdays just in case he’s in it that week.
Next week’s episode is the last till October 13th, so get your QUESTIONS in: send voicemails to the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or Skype answermethis) and emails to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com. Harness your very finest question-composing abilities, so together we may endeavour to send off this series in style.
Here’s a bit of a racy mess, brought to us by Erik from Bournemouth:
My friend, let’s call her Bea, recently engaged in a threeway with a couple, let’s call them Joseph and Mary, with whom she’s been friendly with for quite some time, first Mary then, inevitably, Joseph.
Their relationship is somewhat on the rocks and they felt a threesome may perk it up. Bea, not having been laid in a significant amount of time and quite fancying Joseph, was right up for it and, as it was somewhat Mary’s idea, the three of them spent a sweaty night of x-rated passion together.
They parted ways that morning quite amicably, but now Bea is beginning to form feelings for Joseph, who has become quite flirty with Bea; Mary has gone right off of him and says she can’t kiss him anymore. All signs point to an end to to their relationship.
Bea wants to go out with Joseph but doesn’t want to lose Mary as a friend. So, answer me this: how the hell does Bea start dating Joseph, keep her friendship with Mary and live with herself after this knowing she stole her friend’s boyfriend?
This is that plot in Gossip Girl, isn’t it? Where Dan Humphrey not only manages to get near a girl, but sexes his girlfriend Hilary Duff AND his bff Awful Vanessa AT THE SAME TIME? In the aftermath, Duff reads all the miniature signs on Dan’s teeny-tiny face and realises he’s harbouring extra-friendly Feelings for Awful Vanessa. So she solves the problem by ending her six-episode guest arc the relationship and kindly flouncing off back to ‘Hollywood’, to leave Dan to pursue the monumentally aggravating and horrifically dressed character of his dreams. Series 3, episode 9 if you want to revise.
Yes, I watch too much shit telly. Shut up and leave me alone.
Anyway, we can’t expect Mary to exercise the altruism of Hilary Duff. Furthermore, Bea can’t reasonably expect to have everything that she wants, Mary AND Joseph AND a clear conscience, so she may have to choose between being blue-balled but remaining Mary’s friend, or suffering moral twinges as she enjoys Joseph one-on-one.
However, it would be better for all concerned if Bea keeps her pants on till Mary and Joseph have actually split up, because appropriating a friend’s ex is a lesser charge than stealing their boyfriend, although not without its repercussions depending upon Mary’s disposition. Bea should also be wary that, if and when Joseph becomes a single man, he may not actually be interested in her; being ‘quite flirty’ whilst in the boundaries of a relationship is by no means a promise of true affection and/or sexytime once out of it.
But, you know, maybe I’m being too cautious. Perhaps Bea and Joseph will forge a fine romance, Mary will bestow her blessing, and the happy couple will have a simply adorable “How we got together” story to tell the grandkids.
Congratulations in advance to John from Leeds and his wife, who must be readying the overnight bag and practicing the breathing techniques:
My wife and I are shortly due to welcome into the world our first child, expected September 23rd. Last week we went to our first ante-natal class (or ‘Parentcraft’ as it has now been rebranded) to find out all about how to tell you’re in labour, what to do when you’re in labour and, most important in my wife’s eyes, what drugs you can have to ease the passing of the (hopefully) lovable little tyke.
The nurse was very keen on distraction techniques whereby you forget all about the pain by the simple process of having a bath, listening to some music (or an Answer Me This podcast) or having a game of Scrabble, whatever works for you.
I realise that as none of you have given birth you may not be the best qualified people to ask but qnswer me this: what distraction techniques would you recommend for forgetting the stress and worries of childbirth?
How about grabbing the forceps and the umbilical scissors and putting on an impromptu puppet show between her knees? Leading a singsong of some of the more rousing hymns? Or propping up a target at the end of your wife’s bed of pain, to give her something to aim for during the final shunt? If she hits the bullseye, she wins a prize! Of an episiotomy.
Our inexperience in childbirth is hereby made all too obvious, but readers, many of you will have reproduced, so kindly share your distraction techniques in the comments.
Incidentally, my sister-in-law DID play Scrabble during her first labour, but it wasn’t as effective as the three doses of epidural drugs.
Here’s an antidote to existential bleakness from Linda:
A bunch of us yarn-bombed the Saffron Walden Turf Maze on Saturday.
Helen, you’re a crafter, answer me this – how can I explain it to my husband who still doesn’t see the point of it?
Point? Why must there be a point?? I don’t think yarn-bombing needs to have any more urgent or noble intention than making something look a bit more pretty/colourful/comical.
If you insist upon getting a bit more thinky about it, you could say that it compels you to reexamine the yarn-bombed object and its context with fresh eyes; or that it has a similar function to graffiti, but in a cheery and harmless way because, unlike graffiti, it’s easily removable, and it looks like your granny did it.
But it’s thoroughly objectionable to muse so pretentiously about jolly old yarn-bombing, or indeed any crafts; let’s just enjoy the fact that people go to quite considerable effort (click here to see more pictures of Linda’s yarny adventure, which must have involved a LOT of knitting hours) for the sake of harmless fun. And if you want to argue against harmless fun as an objective, I will squeeze my hands over my ears and chant ‘Lalalalaa’ until you shut up and go away.
We’d just booked our research tour of southern Africa to delve further into last week’s zebra-riding question, but now have to seek a refund as Charlene has done our work for us:
I’ve recently moved back from Kenya (I lived there for three years) and went on many safaris.
I asked ‘Why can’t we ride zebras?’ in Nakuru park.
Apparently we can’t because they don’t have strong rib cages and they would break and the zebra would die.
And there go our dreams of becoming zebra dressage champions.
It’s pretty unusual for us podcasters to venture out of our comfortable armchairs, let alone venture into the great not-indoors. Last weekend, however, we donned our cagoules, stocked up on wet-wipes, and took in a lungful of folk-laced fresh air at the Green Man festival – where we had such a smashing time, we decided to record Answer Me This! Episode 189 right there:
This classic episode is available to BUY NOW for just 79p at the Answer Me This! Store, through a secure server, without DRM restriction. CLICK HERE to find out more and support our podcast. (This helps keep our most recent episodes free)
Plus: Olly fears the revenge of Kris Marshall; Helen discovers a sport she IS interested in: topless frisbee; and Martin the Sound Man sees a future where Batman and Catwoman give birth to Dustin Hoffman.
As you’ll hear, we were joined this week by some unexpected guests in the shape of wasps. (They weren’t just shaped like wasps; they were wasps.) Next week, we should be joined by a much less stingy and stripy special guest in the shape of Jon Ronson. (He’s not just shaped like Jon Ronson, he is Jon Ronson.) So concoct some QUESTIONS for the fan of psychopaths, goat-starers and Robbie Williams, and send them in the form of voicemails to the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or Skype answermethis) or emails to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com.
We do hope that Jon remembers to turn up, but whether he does or not, we’ll deffers see you next Thursday,
(movie rights owned by Leonardo DiCaprio).
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