Nobel Prize may boobComment on this story
NOW here’s a worthy contender for the next Nobel Prize for medicine. Dr Karen Weatherby says 10 minutes of ogling the upper rigging of a well-endowed woman does wonders for a man – it’s the equivalent, in terms of getting the blood surging, etc, of half an hour in the gym.
Weatherby bases her findings on exhaustive research on a group of men in Germany.
Writing in the New England Journal of Medicine, she says: “Just 10 minutes of staring at the charms of a well- endowed female is roughly equivalent to a 30-minute aerobics workout.”
Men who are regularly involved in such health-promoting activities show a far lower incidence of heart disease, high blood pressure and so forth, she says.
This has the ring of truth, without even going into the scientific and artistic/aesthetic aspects of the female upper rigging. Karen Weatherby for the Nobel laureate! Come on, gals – get that Nobel committee’s blood surging!
THERE’S a row in Britain over horsemeat being found in supposed beefburgers sold by two of the supermarket chains. Social media is already on to it:
l My throat always felt a little hoarse after eating the Tesco burgers, anyway.
l I don’t care what Tesco have done, my burger just won the 3.30 at Royal Ascot.
l I am not horsing around anymore, there is neigh way I am eating their burgers anymore… they better not be on sale furlong.
l My burger gave me the trots.
l They better not have an inquiry, I don’t want the public saddled with the bill.
l Breaking news: A woman has been taken to hospital after eating a horsemeat burger from Tescos.
Doctors say her condition is stable.
For da boids
WHY do crows murder and geese gaggle? asks reader Eric Hodgson. He sends in some collective nouns, some commonplace, others not quite so.
A herd of cows, a flock of chickens, a school of fish and a gaggle of geese – yes, we’re used to those.
Then there’s a pride of lions, a murder of crows (as well as their cousins, the rooks and ravens), an exaltation of doves and – presumably because they look so wise – a parliament of owls.
I dunno, Eric. I’ve always found the second category a little affected. Do people really talk about “an exaltation of doves”? Personally I would put crows, rooks, ravens, doves and owls, all of them, into flocks. But then I come from the Midlands, where we wax lyrical in a slightly different way over flocks of birds.
Spring is sprung,
Da grass is riz.
I wonder where da boidies is?
Da boids is on da wing,
Or so I hoid.
But dat’s absoid,
Da wings is on da boid.
I must try to work “exaltation” in there somewhere.
OVERHEARD in the street shelter for the over-40s: “This old guy at the ATM asked me to check his balance. So I pushed him and he went down like a ninepin. He had very bad balance.”
Hitching a ride
PASSENGERS on a flight from Australia to New Guinea suddenly noticed with consternation that a large snake was outside, clinging to the wing of the aircraft.
Air crew were disbelieving at first when the snake’s presence was reported an hour into the Qantas flight from Cairns, northern Queensland, to Port Moresby in a Bombardier Q44 aircraft. But it turned out to be a nine feet-long Amethystine python that had probably crawled aboard from scrubland and mangroves that surround Cairns Airport.
It did not affect the aerodynamics or the aircraft’s safety but – sad to say – the snake was dead when they landed at Port Moresby, its muscles still in desperate contraction as it hung on. Poor old python.
ALSO sad to relate, a 1.5m caiman – a species of alligator – named Mr Teeth has died after being rescued by police from a home in Oakland, near San Francisco, California, where he had been on sentry duty guarding a stash of marijuana.
Mr Teeth was handed to Oakland Zoo but became critically ill and non-responsive to veterinary treatment. These alligators don’t do cold turkey very well.
Hack golfer: If I don’t get this one near the green I think I’ll drown myself in that water hazard.”
Caddy: “Can you keep your head down that long?”
Until you walk a mile in another man’s moccasins you can’t imagine the smell. – Robert Byrne