But a spread of nymphomaniacs would go down. That's one of the things they do. Or so I'm told.
Given the large discrepency between the number that I have met, and the number that I would like to meet, I shall suggest "an insufficiency of nymphomaniacs".
The next question was "which is?". You asked it yourself!
Flirt? Me? No no no... I was simply responding to the question of squirrels. You know how it is - you're typing with one hand, holding a stack of dictionaries with the other, and you feel a sudden need to sneeze. Words everywhere.
By "no", of course I mean "yes". Just a little bit :-)
A quick bit of googling suggests that both "dray" and "scurry" are in use. I get the impression that "scurry" is more of a left-pondian term (Lipton is from New York).
Spurning subtlety sometimes surprises slender Salopian seductresses,
setting sound sense aside, sparking splendidly sordid self-indulgence.
If it's going to be just you and the old faithful dictionary (I trust you have a big one), I suggest that you venture out of R and explore the wonders of S.
Sad Sappho supplements sorrowful solitude soliciting sensual satisfaction sans supporting sidekicks.
I'm not terribly familiar with the habits of squirrels, but the ones I've seen have always been alone. If they're not typically found in groups, I would imagine that a collective noun would be redundant.
In that case, how about A solitude of squirrel?
You'll have to ask Sappho, I think. The Rabbit and all associated machinery are definitely hers. See the warning labels? "DANGER: REMOVAL OF THIS DEVICE FROM SAPPHO'S PERSON IS PUNISHABLE BY CELIBACY".
So that's why the women of Britain walk around looking so miserable. No one has educated the men in the gentle art of origami.
Lesson one: What is origami?
Origami is the art of ensuring that your partner has satisfying origams every time you...
err...
That's not origami, is it?
Oops! I thought it was a little too spacious. One more try.
Bingo! I've struck gold this time. It's the custom-made industrial strength multi-function (it even makes coffee) Super Rabbit. With a power cord leading to a portable generator. I've never seen a pink generator before. Very feminine.
So if you haven't got the batteries, who has?
I'd better decline the coffe. I don't want to risk spilling it as you wriggle and squirm in your attempts to resist my search. See, I do have your best interests in mind.
Now, what have we got down here? So that's where you keep your marbles... A wooden spoon? Not sure I want to know... An old Radio Times? Oh, it has him on the cover... So that's where my Meatloaf CD got to. I've been looking for that... An alarm clock... Boltcutters?... Ah, here it is! One Rabbit. Empty.
Sorry, guys, I failed on the batteries. But I think I've discovered why the girlies generally don't bother with pockets.
What's this? The batteries go missing, and walking around with a smirk on her face and a faint buzzing sound from elsewhere is our best-known leporidae enthusiast. And she says it wasn't her.
Are we non-girlies so gullible? I don't think so!
Hand over those batteries NOW, Sappho, or I'm going to have to take them myself.
secretly hoping she doesn't comply, as the second option sounds much more fun
You can't teach mathematics without inviting Tom Lehrer. You know that, don't you?
You can't take three from two
Two is less than three
So you look at the four in the tens place
Now that's really four tens
So you make it three tens
Regroup
And you change a ten to ten ones
And you add it to the two and get twelve
And you take away three
That's nine.
Is that clear?
Now instead of four in the tens place
You've got three because you added one
That is to say ten
To the two
But you can't take seven from three
So you look in the hundreds place
From the three you then use one
To make ten ones
And you know why four plus minus one plus ten
Is fourteen minus one?
Because addition in commutative.
Right.
And so you've got thirteen tens and you take away seven
And that leaves five.
Well, six actually, but the idea is the important thing.
Now go back to the hundreds place
You're left with two
And you take away one from two and that leaves...
Everyone get one?
Not bad for the first day.
What a genius.
Being the sucker for punishment that I am, I'm going to nominate Eels' "Daisies of the Galaxy". It never fails to make me cry.
Ooh, I'd forgotten about Tampopo. Does it belong in my top ten? There are just too many superb movies in this world. I'm going to have to track down a copy now.
We were discussing food and sex recently too.
Only ten? Oh well, here goes...
Rosencrantz And Guildenstern Are Dead. Tom Stoppard - say no more.
Shakespeare In Love. Tom Stoppard - say no more.
The Man Who Wasn't There. A B&W photography snob's wet dream.
Donnie Darko. Unexpectedly intelligent, great soundtrack, and Drew Barrymore.
Delicatessen. Thanks Jags!
Local Hero. It's impossible to watch this too many times.
The Sixth Sense. But not on my own, and certainly not with the lights off.
Snatch. Lock Stock And Two Smoking Barrels with more humour and Brad Pitt.
Life Is Beautiful. Because however ugly it gets, life is beautiful.
Prospero's Books. Sit back and let it wash over you.
A Simple Plan. Because I can't count.
And Memento. And Brazil. And Bad Boy Bubby. And Fargo. And Proof. And The Virgin Suicides. And everything the Coens have ever touched. And... and... and...
It's a tough choice, but I'd have to be a cat as well. There's something very appealing about the idea of sleeping twenty hours a day.
If I can't be a cat, I'll be a duck. I don't know why - there's nothing particularly appealing about a duck's life. I just like them.
When I was growing up in Australia, the best shows on TV were British. Then I come over here and... what happened? If it was Neighbours that taught you that awful TV could be highly successful, then you have my fullest apologies.
On the other hand, Bremner, Bird and Fortune is on as I type this. Maybe there's hope for this country after all.
I'm even more confused now. Is McCoy another word for Salopian? How many words do you need?
Ah... I'm starting to see the cause of Sappho's love of language.
Oops... was Blue only talking about beards? That's the shaving job I can cope with.
You're on, Jags. Assuming we can find a time when neither of us are flat out working.
Ha ha ha ha ha. Oh, I needed that laugh.
I'm head over heels in love with my Archos AV340. It's the next step in the evolution of the mp3 player - nice big hard drive, nice big colour screen, and it can record video.
There's something wrong with being able to carry my entire CD collection in my pocket, with enough room left for a dozen or more movies. Technology, eh? Five years from now I'll be wondering how I tolerated such a frustratingly limited device.
Let's see if I can sway Sappho's dreams a little.
You were on your way to Newcastle, and I'm hungry.
There, that should do it.