My jelly babies were all lost at sea on that infamous day when all the professional snooker players in the world descended on Clacton-on-Sea to compare the size and gaudiness of their respective waistcoats. Still, we did not mourn the loss of the jelly babies, despite having seven of them already enrolled in Media Studies courses at some of the new universities that were formerly polytechnics.
We laugh now at the educational aspirations of garden gnomes, but there was a time - not too long ago - when all of this was fields and budgerigar husbandry was a dark, secret and noble art.
I take an interest in your underwear and what you keep inside it. My cheese and sweet-pickle baguette has never tasted so warm, or so moist. "But," as Albert Einstein never said, "that is the joy of real butter."
Now we prepare ourselves on the very cusp of the edge of the commencement of the start of preparedness for the one day we know will soon come when bicycle clips will - once again - be the bondage item of choice for all true ukulele fetishists. As Albert Einstein also never said: "I have the spanners, do you have the nuts?"
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