mousehands : ask philip

Some would say it’s genetic, some hormones, others simply cause they can be. Personally, I think it’s because you let them act that way. You make me sick with your flapping skin, mumbo jumbo attempts at voodoo and lack of respect for dental surgeons everywhere.
This answer was sponsored by Ricki Lake.

You’re a wise person, obviously. Some people resist the overwhelming urge to experience the gubbins again and again. They will regret these actions in later lives. Sitting in their armchairs, waiting for the nurse to bring them afternoon tea, they will ask “Nurse, why, when I had the chance, did I fail to experience the gubbins?” The nurse, being used to elderly regrets, will give them more drugs and watch while they drift to sleep, never to awake.

Of course I am! How could anyone not be impressed at the prospect of nails that aren’t red, aren’t blue but a semi-mystical mixture of the two?

Yes! Think of all those poor sheep, nearby, who’s lives will have been wasted without some kind soul beating them to death with a white picket fence and serving their still warm flesh on a platter with a green salad and French dressing.

Get a tablespoon of ground nut oil per serving, add a dash of salt and par… Wait just one stinking minute! My secret ingredient, you say? Why, that is something completely different. And I won’t tell you what it is, no way! Now get out of my sight, or I’ll get the FBI around like a shot.

Your inner child is playing some horrid game with you. It’s trying to provoke you into an armed conflict with some communist nation, perhaps America. I would trick it into a sense of false security (rather than the more common false sense of security) by watching Dances With Wolves from another room. When the child attempts to work out why, quickly bludgeon it.
As for the muffins, well, if that were to happen I would have to disown you. My shallowness extends even further than you had previously suspected. Oh, and you should know by now that the market moves fast and wild. Always.

I picked it out of a catalogue a few years ago. Vain as it might appear, having a nose shaped like Richard Nixon is not something that I could deal with. The mocking from the local clergy! “Nixon nose boy, Nixon nose boy” they would cry, sometimes interrupting a christening to do so. In the end I plumped for “sexy nose #57” which was claimed will give me a roguish appeal to the ladies. Which ladies I don’t know, but look forward to finding out.

For once, I simply don’t know. Have you been investigating any governmental corruption recently? Trying to prove the existence of an alien new world order from your gravy filled bath tub? Either way, I wouldn’t wait to find out. Scarper, get the hell out of the city for a week or two and with any luck the forces of darkness will simply move on to the next citizen who is of the opinion that not everything is hunky-dory.

The best of things! Taken raw as a starter, or cooked in brine as a side dish, the human foetus shows you as a keen hostess in any society party. Just make sure you serve it with red wine, I can testify the terrifying embarrassment if you give your guests white. Or in my particular case, fresh bile.