And one says to the other, "How do you suppose we drive this thing?"

There's a chap who works in the same office as me. Middle aged, smokes like a chimney, dreadful moustache. Most early mornings, it's just he and I here and he likes to wander over to my desk for a chat. Sometimes he brings his newspaper and just reads the headlines aloud to me. He holds repellently right-wing views. Around a week after first meeting him, he gave me a blow by blow account of his vasectomy procedure. Only the other day, he waved a double page picture of noted septagarian Tina Turner at me, leering words to the effect of, "You would, Matt - wouldn't you? Don't tell me you wouldn't. You would."

He's the reason the phrase 'Murder/Suicide' was invented. And you know what? His name is Martin too.

(And no - I absolutely would not. Not even with yours.)