One of the best things broadcast in any medium anywhere is I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue, a comedy panel-game on Radio 4. The chairman, noted jazz musician Humphrey Lyttelton, is genial looking and sounding gentleman with a mind in the sewer. His charm lets him get away with things that a lesser (or perhaps greater) man could not. I was just listening to the radio and heard perhaps the finest example of this, a piece of smut so unashamed that the chair of the FCC might actually explode upon hearing it.

This particular joke makes reference to Lionel Blair, a dance-man and entertainer with a rather camp image (though he has been married for four decades). He was a team captain in a game called Give Us A Clue, based on charades (no speaking, just actions), that is spoofed on I’m Sorry I Haven’t A Clue (remember, ISIHAC is a radio show, oh the comedy hi-jinx that ensue). A typical intro to the ‘sound charades’ round might then be “The expert’s expert was of course Lionel Blair. Who could ever forget opposing team captain Una Stubbs sitting open-mouthed as he tried to pull off Twelve Angry Men in under two minutes!”.

So, finally, to the offending remark:

“The most highly skilled of all was Lionel Blair. But how the tears of frustration welled up in his eyes during their Italian tour at not being allowed the use of his mouth to finish off Two Gentlemen of Verona”

Here’s a list of many others, and scanning through there’s some competition for ‘most disgusting link’.

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Worst word ever

Just listening to a podcast answering the question “Do any other creatures menstruate?” (yes, in case you wondered, other primates do, though many other animals have cycles that serve a similar purpose). The scientist answering the question first went through a quick explanation of what menstruation is (basically a shedding of the uterine lining to help clear the way for next time). She used possibly my least favourite word in place of shedding, however – sloughing.

To slough: (v, pr. sluff) to dispose or get rid of; cast (often fol. by off): to slough off a bad habit.

Not to be confused with ‘To Slough!’, the imperative call to visit the town in Berkshire that inspired the lines:

Come, friendly bombs, and fall on Slough
It isn’t fit for humans now


Add on about 17 years, and attach dangling weights to the boy’s legs, and this could have been me down to the last detail. Except for the detail about running marathons afterwards. And tennis, I suck at tennis. And I only stayed in for 12 months (plus another month when I was 12). And I was there during the 70’s, not the 50s/60s. But apart from that, it’s me.

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