We know that a lot of you use the pumping beats of AMT to keep you entertained whilst running (that counts as us doing exercise too, right?), so would like to say a very big “Good luck!” to all of you listeners who are running the London Marathon this Sunday. But we reserve the biggest amount of “Good luck!” for Sam from Cambridgeshire:
I am running the London Marathon. However, because I am a little strange, I have decided that 26.2 miles just isn’t enough, and have decided to run the 86 miles back home again to St. Ives, Cambridgeshire, straight afterwards.
This foolhardiness is all in the name of charity, as I am raising money for the Epilepsy Society, aiming to raise over £2,000.
We can’t deny that this feat is both very charitable and very foolhardy. Accordingly, we would like you to answer us these in the comments: firstly, have you ever done anything more foolhardy than this in the name of charity; and secondly, have you ever completed an impressive physical feat and followed it with an even more impressive physical feat as a chaser?
How gutting for Rowan to be so blatantly reminded that his joint is less fun than the bog in a retirement castle:
The other day, one of our ferrets escaped. After hours of searching he was eventually found in the washroom of a local old people’s home. So Helen and Olly, answer me this: have you ever had pets run away? And did you get them back again?
We’ve heard of John Thomas, we’ve heard of Ralph, but we’ve never heard of Paddy Reilly, who is an intimate consort of Patrick in Germany:
For some reason, in my family, penises were referred to as our “Paddy Reillys”. I’m Irish and Paddy Reilly is a folk singer from Ireland, but I have absolutely no idea how his name came to stand for the male genitalia.
So, answer me this: have your readers ever heard this euphemism before, or is it completely unique to my strange family?
Readers, have you? Tell us in the comments, or if your parents had a whole other name for Paddy Reilly. Then you can help decide the future of listener Dan‘s Paddy Reilly:
I have two lovely children, with a third on the way.
Here is Answer Me This! Episode 174. Cherish it. Savour it. For it is the penultimate episode before we take a holiday until May. Aw, quit blubbing, you’ll set us off as well…
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)
Today we consider:
Tony Blair’s fortune
fireman’s poles
Barbie cakes
pretty jellyfish Home on Their Own
Chartwell
southpaw mathematicians vs. rhubarb
John Major vs. Rufus Hound
Paul O’Grady’s fake shed vs. John Wayne Gacy This Morning‘s head-shrinker Cluedo, the telly quiz adaptation
post-prime ministerial perks Catalog Living
Britney’s derriere
and
the new face of Blue Harbour.
Plus: Olly shows the ladies a good time in Wood Green; Helen dusts off her good manners in order to tell you that your flies are undone; and Martin the Sound Man WAS NOT LOOKING AT ANYTHING IN HIS PRIVATE BROWSER, alright? This week’s Bit of Crap on the App (find it on iPhone or Android) tells how Olly beat the charity auction system, because even altruists love a bargain.
You’ll be needing noises to destroy the sweet sound of silence while we’re away, so go to answermethispodcast.com/audible to get yourself free and half-price audiobooks. And to send this series out in a blaze of glory, please delight us with your QUESTIONS for next week: leave voicemails on the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or find answermethis on Skype) or send emails to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com. It’ll be something to remember you by on our vacation; like a knot in a hankie, a pressed flower in the pages of a Bible, or a repent-at-leisure tattoo of your face.
Answer me this: why does it become socially unacceptable for males to wear dungarees past the age of three? It’s annoying as I think dungarees are the coolest clothing item ever, but if I wore them at the age of thirteen I would probably be put in a circus, put in a mental home, or possibly both.
Come come, circuses would go bust if the entertainment they were offering consisted of 13-year-old boys wearing dungarees.
By all means, readers, go to the comments and explain to Finn why this twist of sartorial fate is thus; however I think the more pressing mystery is why anybody over the age of three would WANT to wear dungarees. Pregnant women, I give you a free pass; everyone else, why would you wear a garment that makes you LOOK pregnant (regardless of your gender and relative waifishness), plus forces you to undress every time you go to the lavatory? Why? WHY????
The surprising number of archaelogists that listen to this show (ie more than O) are throwing down their trowels, dusting off their knees and getting ready to scrap. Duncan in Wellington says:
I must make a point of order about the expert commentry provided by Nick from Oklahoma. He described pre-European Easter Island as being prehistoric because they didn’t have writing.
In fact they did, and this writing, Rongorongo, was one of possibly only four independent instances of writing being invented.
Now for sure no one is able to read this writing, so perhaps until we can the time remains prehistoric. But I still feel the need to defend these crazy islanders.
If any of the rest of you feel this need as well, there’s no better time than now. Go to the comments and tell us how actually the Rapa Nui invented the bicycle.
Help us promote inland tourism today by contemplating the following pair of questions, then going to the comments and offering your best suggestions for fun in the towns mentioned therein. Lorraine from Ireland is the first person needing your guidance:
My two kids – a 5-year-old girl and 2-and-a-half-year-old boy – have become crazy for Thomas the Tank Engine after getting some of the books as a gift.
After buying a dvd of the original show we discovered that there was an actual Thomasland outside Birmingham.
We were considering taking our small people there during the easter break but am wondering what else Birmingham has to offer. So answer me this: what else could we do during a weekend in Birmingham?
Sadly, Cadbury World is not an option where Dom from Shrewsbury is going:
A year and a half after leaving university I have finally got a graduate job. It involves moving to Nottingham so I’ve been researching my new home and I’ve found sod all. Answer me this – apart from Robin Hood and that one old pub is there anything interesting about Nottingham? The only thing I’ve found is an exciting level of gun crime.
In my brief acquaintance with Nottingham, I went to a lovely tea shop where the staff were all dressed like The Past and had an impressive selection of cakes and crockery. I can understand how that might not keep you in thrall to the place long-term; in which case, the Nottingham Caves certainly look worth a gander. And I’m sure you’ll settle into the gun culture in no time.
Alex in Edinburgh is living out a megamix of Before Sunrise and You’ve Got Mail:
Recently, I met one of the loveliest girls I have ever met in my entire life. Sadly, we were only together for 5 minutes before fate dragged us our separate ways. I live in Edinburgh and she lives in Newcastle.
Not giving up, I added her on Facebook and sent her a friendly message, to which she responded with a friendly message. So far so good.
I’d be thrilled to get to know her better, and perhaps develop a friendship or something more… In person this would be normal and straightforward, but we’re too far apart for that.
So, answer me this:
How do you seduce someone (who is a bit shy) when you only have Facebook at your disposal, with only 5 minutes of real-life chemistry to fall back on?
I know this sounds like a tall order, but I’m quite desirable and she seemed to find me pleasant when we were together.
‘Quite desirable’ indeed! It’s remarkable this girl hasn’t stormed over the Scottish border to break herself off a piece of that.
Facebook is certainly not the only means at your disposal. Edinburgh and Newcastle aren’t that far from each other; it’s worth an hour-long train journey to spend an afternoon together, to see whether said chemistry can be sustained for longer than the time it takes to boil an egg.
Thankyou for waiting patiently for Answer Me This! Episode 173 while Olly disports himself on a spa break. You’ll be pleased to know he is now fully refreshed, like a man half his age, albeit one with the hobbies of a woman twice his age. Anyway, without further ado, on to the episode:
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)
Ruining the serene majesty of silence is chitchat about:
the 2011 census mystery
Nigerian spammers
the All Seeing I
Rapa Nui pissing contests
c@fes
the 1872 Licensing Act
Sir Neville Francis Fitzgerald Chamberlain
self-proclaimed Jedis
Mr Punch vs. fruit punch
prehistoric vs. historic
Buffy vs. rabbits
jujitsu vs. bridge
Pyramid Pool vs. Life Pool
i- vs. e- 2001 – A Space Odyssey vs. Snog Marry Avoid Kane Kramer
self-defence in Ikea
mobility scooters
outside toilets
and
the old man’s coconut.
Plus: if Olly ever decides to take a wife, the lucky lady in question must gird herself for a truly alarming musical interlude on their wedding day; Helen debases herself to try to wangle a replacement iPod; and Martin the Sound Man gives the worst advice we’ve ever heard about saving yourself being savaged by a dangerous dog. Barbara Woodhouse will be spinning in her grave. Happily, however, she’ll be jiving in her grave when she hears the song Martin has dropped on his latest podcast – go along to thesoundoftheladies.com then to listen to it! And go along to your own iPhone or Android device for this week’s Bit of Crap on the App, in which we go from snooker legend Robbie O’Sullivan to Hanson in two easy steps (those steps being the Searchers and the Zombies).
Now take a deep breath and enjoy some good news week – not only this latest addition to our wall of certificates, but also the recommencement of our Audible freebie offer! Go to answermethispodcast.com/audible to get yourself free and half-price audiobooks, because Audible seem quite keen for you to drain them dry. Ours not to reason why.
Having done that, please send us your QUESTIONSfor next week: leave voicemails on the Question Line (dial 0208 123 5877 or find answermethis on Skype) or send emails to answermethispodcast@googlemail.com. Then take a refresher course in snooker ballshideous novelty songs of the 1980s:
We are very delighted to tell you that for the third year running, Answer Me This! has been nominated for a Sony Radio Academy Award! You’re right to think that this is inconceivable, so here’s the proof. Thankyou very much. Here’s how we did it:
Mr Oliver Mann has just got himself a new Mannmobile, and as ever, where Olly leads, others follow. Or they at least wish to follow, as does Jimmy here:
How do I get my parents to get me a car?
I’m a 19-year-old at uni in Preston (no joke).
My parents got divorced about 3 years ago, my dad lives in the same town as my mum so I see him all the time. No worries there.
My dad is now married and my mum is to be August 6th. Both other halves are pretty cool and I’m not a twat so I don’t mind about that. We live in Harpenden (just next to St Albans). From end of July my mum is moving to a tiny village outside of Lincoln and my dad to London.
I passed my driving test last July and wasn’t bothered about my lack of wheels because I went to uni in a month. However, because i have such a long summer and my parents are moving away from where I’ve always lived I really want a car. Partly so I can do LADcar things like wear sunglasses and look cool and do impromptu road trips, but also so when we move I can visit both parents and my friends without spending 50 quid and 7 hours of my live going between places.
My mum and dad aren’t rich but they are not poor and they will be renting their houses and they both have jobs. I’m willing to buy my car, gonna get a cheap car like £400. My mum and dad don’t mind paying for some of the initial costs, but because they don’t talk it’s a nightmare trying to sort anything out.
All my mates have cars but I feel scabby getting lifts for the past 2 years. I have a job pulling pints (and ladies) and work about 35hrs a week so I can pay for petrol etc.
So! How can I get a car when I finish for uni and not be robbed off with more “I’ll talk to your mum, I’ll talk to your dad” BECAUSE THEY DON’T?
I sound spoiled but I’m not. They are both moving away and the least they could do is cough up a few hundred for MOT, tax and insurance. I even asked for nothing at Christmas and my birthday and said spend the money on this.
I’ll be paying for insurance monthly and it should be about £70.
Readers! Are you still paying attention, at the end of that lengthy missive? If so, go to the comments and suggest how Jimmy ought best make the case to each of the parental parties.
Although I think the time to strike was a couple of years ago, when he could have used their still-fresh divorce to guilt-trip them into buying him a car. Someone might as well have got something positive out of that bad situation, right? As it is, him forcing them together to discuss the car with a new marriage looming seems like a ruse that might have borne fruit in The Parent Trap.
Following in the wake of the celeb craze for spring 2011, Elaine from Cork has some happy news:
My significant other and I found that we are expecting a new arrival in November.
It is a surprise for both of us really… we have told our immediate family but not our friends yet!
My question is: do you have any interesting ways for us to break the news to our friends and work colleagues after I have my first scan?
I was think via facebook for friends— but that just seems boring!
Any crazy ideas like sky writing etc… greatly appreciated?
Bravo Elaine and Mr Elaine! It would be pretty easy just to direct your friends to this post, but, I’ll grant you, perhaps insufficiently festive. You could stuff a cushion up your jumper for your next social occasion, and pretend you are practising for six months hence. You could leave a bun in each of their ovens, with a little note explaining this bizarre act (people are quite lenient towards odd behaviour in pregnant people, don’t they?); you could send them one of those creepy photos amalgamating your face with your partner’s and sticking it onto a baby’s body, with the caption, “Brace yourself!”; you could show them all how you’ve turned your erstwhile drugs den into a nursery. However, none of these ruses are satisfactory given the significance of the news, so I put it to you readers who unlike me have produced offspring. Go to the comments, and with your mental fecundity give birth to a glorious scheme via which Elaine can intimate to her friends and colleagues that in a few months’ time they will have to get used to her being tired, distracted and covered in regurgitated milk.
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