Sex Is Like Nose Picking. It's Fine

A Book?! What D'you Wanna Flaming Book For?...we've Got A Lovely Telly With A 12-inch Screen And Now Ya Wanna Book!

The Cuss Am I? Are You Cussing With Me?

Poor Earthworm,' The Ladybird Said, Whispering In James's Ear. 'he Loves To Make Everything Into A Disaster. He Hates To Be Happy. He Is Only Happy When He Is Gloomy.

Mr. Twit Was A Twit. He Was Born A Twit. And, Now At The Age Of Sixty, He Was A Bigger Twit Than Ever.

It Is Most Unlikely. But--here Comes The Big "but"--not Impossible.