That glorious day when, heading into work on the bus, or walking to the tube, or sitting on the train, you find yourself suddenly chirpier than you have been in months. You find yourself smiling at strangers again. There is a mild involuntary tumescence in your trousers that comes and goes throughout the morning with the comforting regularity of a heartbeat.
And then you get a text around lunchtime from a mate which says: "At last, Tit Monday!" And you instantly understand why you are so happy. For Tit Monday is that special day in the year when, for the first time, the temperature rises above that magical point which causes girls getting dressed in the morning to decide to show a bit of skin.
After months of dull colors and chunky knit, the world's birds suddenly dive into last summer's wardrobe (they've not had chance to buy this season's stuff) and chuck it on without a thought. Your urban landscape is suddenly lightened with acres of naked arm and leg and, after many dark months of burrowing, breasts rising to the surface like moles at dusk.
Big breasts in white work shirts straining at the buttons. Small breasts bra-less in vest tops, the nipples frotted by ribby fabrics. Breasts in summer dresses bouncing in the distance so that they catch your eye before you even notice there is someone wearing them. Breasts nudging out from the crowd at traffic islands, quivering to cross the road...
And you know it is nearly summer. For previous generations, the arrival of spring was heralded by the sound of the first cuckoo. For us, it is Tit Monday.
Not that it always falls on a Monday. Like Easter, Tit Monday is a movable feast. Last year it fell on a Friday. Friday 29 April, to be precise, when temperatures maxed out at 22.1C after nothing much above 16C all year. It last fell on a Monday in 2004, when temperatures leapt to 22C on 24 April.
And then, of course, there is Tit Monday Night. You see, in early summer, temperatures drop off very dramatically when night falls (Tit Friday 2005 dropped away to a parky 11.8C). But the dollies are not prepared. Slightly stunned by the morning heat, they drag out the summer clothes but forget to bring a cardie (a mistake they will not make again until next year), so that when they're all standing outside All Bar One after work celebrating the arrival of spring, their barely covered nipples have no protection from the cold. It's like a Bring-and-Buy sale where everyone has brought hat pegs. It's like a prog-rock gig where, instead of lighters, everyone is holding up nipples.
So when will Tit Monday fall this year? Will you be the first to text your mates with the announcement? Do not shoot your bolt too early. There will be false starts. You will smell fresh cut grass and see a couple of early starters and feel compelled to declare Tit Monday. But your more level-headed friends will tell you to hold your horses, keep your powder dry, don't fire until you see the whites of their bra straps.
As the poet said: one bold Northern slapper in a bikini doth not a summer make.
leaves of a particular fern were a sure cure for any case of constipation.
When the anthropologist expressed his doubts, the brujo looked him in the eye and said: "Let me say to you, with fronds like these, who needs enemas?"
When you pass the milk cases, you hear cows mooing and you experience the scent of fresh mown hay.
In the meat department there is the aroma of charcoal grilled steaks with onions.
When you approach the egg case, you hear hens cluck and cackle, and the air is filled with the pleasing aroma of bacon and eggs frying.
The bread department features the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread & cookies.
I don't buy toilet paper there any more.
I went to the doctor the other day and found out my is a young female, drop-dead gorgeous!
Just tell me what's wrong and I'll help you in any way I can."
Would Hit Campaign Trail in Place of President
WASHINGTON (The Borowitz Report) – With just a month remaining until the crucial midterm elections, worried Democrats have decided to reach out to the man who played Barack Obama during the 2008 campaign, Democratic Party officials confirmed today.
The Emergency Bra is a protective garment that transforms into two respiratory face masks in case of an emergency.
A conference of the most prominent evolutionary scientists in the world has concluded that the apparent evolution of Ms. Palin into Ms. O'Donnell suggests, in the words of Dr. Hiroshi Kyosuke of the University of Tokyo, "that Darwin got it backwards."
"We still believe that evolution is more than a theory and is, in fact, a very real thing," said Dr. Kyosuke. "However, in the case of Palin and O'Donnell, it seems to be moving in a reverse direction."
Dr. Kyosuke stunned the conference when he presented his scholarly paper, "Tea Party Politicians and the Theory of Devolution," in which he studied the so-called "reverse natural selection" at play in GOP candidates for Governor of New York.
"If we chart the trend line from George Pataki to Carl Paladino, within fifty years New York might be governed by Cro-Magnon Man," he said.
Mr. Paladino did not offer an official response to the scientist's remarks, but said that he had one hundred aides typing on one hundred typewriters simultaneously to craft a statement.
For her part, Ms. O'Donnell today released her official campaign platform, in which she opposes the use of simple tools and the discovery of fire.
Boudreaux, an 80-year-old South Louisiana Cajun, goes to the doctor for his every year check-up.
The doctor is amazed at what good shape he is in and asks, "How you stay in such great physical condition, Boudreaux?"
"I stay in the swamp and I hunt and fish every day" says the old Cajun, and, that's why I'm in such good shape. "I'm up well before daylight and out hunting or fishing all day. I have a beer for breakfast and at lunch and wid my supper. And I have a shot of houch before bed time. And I say my prayers every night. And all is well wid me"
"Well", says the doctor, "I'm sure dem prayers helps, but there's got to be more to it. How old was your father when he died?"
"Who said Pop is dead?"
The doctor is amazed. "You mean you're 80 years old and your father's still alive? How old he is?"
"Pop be 100 next month," say Boudreaux. "In fact, he hunted with me this morning, and then we went to a "beer joint" for a while and had a few beers and that's why he's still alive. He's a tough Cajun man And he hunts and fishes every day, too.
"Well, the doctor says, that's great, but I'm sure there's more to it than that. How about your father's father? How old was he when he died?"
"Who said my Paw Paw's dead?"
Stunned, the doctor asks, "You mean you're 80 years old, your father is 100 and your grandfather's still living? Incredible! How old he is?"
"We tink 'bout 118." says the old Cajun. He likes his beer too, but he won't touch the hard stuff."
The doctor is getting frustrated at this point, "So, I guess your grandfather went hunting and fishing with you'll this morning too?"
"No, Paw Paw couldn't go this time. He's getting married today."
At this point the doctor is close to losing it. "Getting married! Why would a 118-year-old man want to get married?"
Boudreaux looked down at the floor and mumbled "Who said he wanted to?"
Be nice to others, because ...
One day you will no longer be the big dog... just the old dog......
and it's nice to be surrounded by friends.