Make-overs, escapes and school

Got another of those conspiracy theory e-mails yesterday. This one was originally sent by a natural health product company (surprise, surprise). It focused on the mercury controversy and the use of squalene, which some have blamed for Gulf War Syndrome despite the evidence only being tenuous at best. Squalene is a moisturiser used extensively in women’s cosmetics because it quickly penetrates the skin. You don’t see millions of women going around complaining about Gulf War Syndrome, do you? However, I suspect it could be the cause of so many of these pre-sex headaches you hear about.

The conspiracy theorists can’t really lose when you think about it. They complain vociferously about certain chemicals in medical products, resulting in panic and mass hysteria and the great unwashed refusing to take the medication. The authorities then remove the controversial chemical, not because it’s harmful, but because they don’t want people to not take the medication and cause a mass outbreak of (for example) rubella, which will cause needless deaths. The conspiracy theorists then jump up and down yelling that the fact the chemical was removed proves it was dangerous.

Had a mass escape yesterday. The sheep managed to dig a 100 foot subterranean tunnel from their half of the field into the common. We’ve noticed a patch of ground that’s been growing in height over the last few weeks and it was obviously where they were dumping the excavated soil.

Actually, the manner in which they really escaped made Hay suspect it might have been rustlers who were disturbed and fled. All except one were rounded up, and where she has ended up is anyone’s guess.

It’s our annual school reunion again this weekend – but it’s a big one this year as it’s our 150th anniversary. Some 800 of us are gathering at the world-famous and dilapidated Adelphi Hotel for a night of mayhem, debauchery and booze. We have the 1st Sea Lord as our guest of honour – I think we had tried to get Phil the Greek, but he was otherwise engaged shooting something furry in his back garden.

It’s amazing how women attending dinner dances and functions have to try out some 10 different outfits before deciding (invariably at the last possible minute) what they will wear. We men, on the other hand, wear the same old dinner jacket we’ve worn for the last 30 odd years.

Here’s something scary I made last night; it’s a dictator make-over shot. On the left we have a typical, wild-eyed, middle-east dictator who looks somewhat mad, while on the right you see him after a make-over where he is transformed into the epitome of a trustworthy and sagacious democratic leader who kisses babies.

Before(left) and after (right).

Here’s a question that has perplexed me for a while; at what age should women stop wearing thongs? Hay maintains the prime criterion is not age, but shape.