So, this morning my cable guy Lobo Lobo, hobbled into my home looking like Bruce Willis in the last scene of Die Hard (sans the blood). "Why so... uhm… serious, Theo?" I asked. "I'm damn hungry, men. I'm on a bleddy diet!" he exclaimed "A diet, why?" I queried this scarecrow of a man.

"Arrey, I'm socko angry. We are in de church some Sundays ago, and de priest Fadder Lancelot, he has de cheek to tell my Myrtle, 'Thelonious is looking quite prosperous. Wot you're feeding him?' Arrey wot wot ting she replies, dat I have a bleeding ponch, and I have to remove it. So, I'm on a diet," he yelled, pointing at the protrusion stemming out of his midriff.