How To Make God Laugh? Tell Him

Hen Nights Should Be Banned. You're Honour-bound To Behave Atrociously, Then Feel Terribly Ashamed Afterwards. (this Charming Man)

I Love Prada. Not So Much The Clothes, Which Are For Malnourished Thirteen-year-olds, But I Covet, With Covety Covetousness, The Shoes And Handbags. Like, I Love Them. If I Was Given A Choice Between World Peace And A Prada Handbag, I'd Dither. (i'm Not Proud Of This, I'm Only Saying.)

... I Am More Of An Ambler. I Once Overheard My Old Boss In Dublin Describe Me As Very "hello Trees, Hello Flowers." It Was Intended As An Insult And It Fulfilled Its Brief; I Was Insulted. I Had Little Interest In Greeting Trees And Flowers But Nor Did I Treat Life As A Treadmill, On Which It Was Vital To Keep Fleeing Forward In Order To Avoid Being Sucked Off The Back And Out Of The Game.

My Truth Is That What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Weaker Rather Than Stronger, Although It Makes You Wiser.

For All Of My Life It Was The Size Of My Rear That Caused Me The Most Hand-wringing, But In This Nearly-50 Zone It Is My Stomach That Is The Problem. It Seems To Have Broken Free From Its Moorings And There Is No Knowing How Far It Will Roam.