Discussion Forum

Talking about evolution, the Andaman Islanders were very likely the first people to branch out of Africa.

Now the Andaman Islanders are one of only two tribes worldwide not to be able to create fire.

They carry embers around in special receptacles. It is believed that the embers must have been kept alight for millennia.

Which raises two questions:

1. Is it the same fire?
2. Surely there's a bit of a market there for match manufacturers?

Used to be a British Penal Colony. Come to think of it, do criminal poets get sent to a paeonal colony?

Very clever. Online Dating = Match-making. (or did I miss the whole point of the post?)

There was I thinking I'd get a 'date' on this thread.

LG

Only coconuts, no dates.

Unless Kid Creole's at a loose end...

Paenal! Neat.

No, the connection was all yours.

Such is the genius of the artist, to allow his audience to make connections, to participate in the creative process, to grow spiritually.

One day I hope to let the world live my life for me. 'Twill be my apotheosis.

Why twill? It's my favourite material for covering rocking horse tails.

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Quote: Lady Godiva

Very clever. Online Dating = Match-making. (or did I miss the whole point of the post?)

There was I thinking I'd get a 'date' on this thread.

LG

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Once you get a 20 year old girlfriend you won't want anyone else to live your life for you. Still, I'm willing if it's that important to your artistic integrity

I refuse to compromise where artistic integrity is concerned. That's why I write obscure magazine articles for The Spoof when I could be rich and famous with a fleet of sports cars and a willing harem of nubile women.

However, on reflection, the mirror needs cleaning. Further reflection indicates that a frisky 20-year old muse would not go amiss. A bowler. Panama.

Sorry, a Trilby.

I love Svengali, I've got all his records. The Swooning Strings of Svengali is my favourite. Far better than that charlatan Mantovani. Not as good as Acker Bilk, mind.

Ah dear Acker! Deep Purple, Stranger on the Shore! Such was the mellifluosity of woodwind and never was matched by Eddie Calvert or his golden trumpet (Oh my Papa indeed!).