They say you should never look a gift sock in the heel, but let’s be honest . . .
If you’ve ever received a pair for Christmas, they were boring gifts if you were a man – and of very little use if you were a woman!

The same applies if you receive a gaudily-patterned tie.  Although it could double as a temporary dog lead. After being taken for a walk with a purple, yellow and red tie around its neck, any self-respecting pooch would tear it into pieces at the earliest opportunity.

If you receive socks for Christmas, whoever bought them for you spent more time wondering what you’d be buying them than they had about what to buy you.

However!

A set of cotton handkerchiefs, despite being an even blander present than socks, or a tie that remains unworn at the back of a wardrobe, is always welcome.

Why? Because December is a cold weather month.

Cold weather months are traditionally when we get colds and flu. Colds lead to sneezing and sneezes have to be caught before they spread germs.
We knew all this before March 2020.

Since then, we’ve been even more conscious of it.

So, Phil. All this chatter about socks, ties and hankies is very interesting… but where are you going with it?

I’m so glad you asked.

Weather reports within local news opt-outs during ITV’s breakfast show are currently ‘sponsored’ by a cold relief product – and the advertisements to promote it show people sneezing into the crook of their arm in a most disgusting way, as if that’s the norm.  It isn’t!

Sneezing into the crook of your arm doesn’t stop germs spreading.
They bounce off onto the person closest to you.  And any droplets that fly out of your nose have to be cleaned off your sleeve with a paper tissue, which would have been better used if you’d sneezed into it.

I reckon that early morning advertisement should revive the slogan I remember from my childhood, which clearly explains the correct procedure.
“Coughs and sneezes spread diseases.

Trap your germs in a handkerchief!”

Preferably a clean cotton one you were given for Christmas!

What’s special about it?

Saint David was born towards the end of the 5th century.  He founded a Celtic monastic community at Glyn Rhosyn (The Vale of Roses) on the western headland of Pembrokeshire at the spot where St David’s Cathedral stands today.  The date of Saint David’s death is recorded as 1st of March.

The year, however, is uncertain, but it’s thought to be around 601.
That’s round about the same time as the news starts at teatime in Wales.
For centuries, March 1st has been a national festival.

Indeed, the 17th-century diarist Samuel Pepys noted how Welsh celebrations in London for St David’s Day would spark wider counter-celebrations among their English neighbours and life-sized effigies of Welshmen were symbolically hung.

By the 18th century, the custom had arisen of confectioners producing “taffies”— gingerbread figures baked in the shape of a Welshman riding a goat on Saint David’s Day.  This tradition can often be seen re-enacted in Neath on a Saturday night.

Happy St David’s Day on Tuesday.

It’s my duty to warn readers of a nervous disposition that this article contains details of a story that might send them into a state of shock. If you feel unable to read on, please turn the page now.

Still here? Don’t say you haven’t been warned.

A young boy and girl, unaccompanied by responsible adults, are sent on a pointless, potentially-dangerous mission that involves climbing a steep incline.  Unfortunately, the boy suffers a nasty head injury and hurtles down the incline.  Then, without explanation, the girl follows him in exactly the same manner.

Miraculously, despite his head trauma, the boy runs home, where his injuries are treated by a bizarre method that would raise the eyebrows of any medical professional.  Why, I hear you ask, would the nursery rhyme “Jack and Jill” need what is today referred to as ‘A Trigger Warning’?

Well, just analyse the contents.  They go up the hill to fetch a pail of water.  That makes no sense, as a well should be dug out on flat ground, not at the top of a hill.  Jack breaks his ‘crown’ and both he and Jill tumble down the hill, no doubt sustaining additional injuries on the way.

Interestingly, no mention is made of whether Jill survives the fall, which I’ve always thought was insensitive and also a little sexist.

Jack ‘trots’ home, where his medically-ignorant parents slap some brown paper soaked with vinegar on his bonce.

I’ve given you this example of a ridiculous ‘Trigger Warning’ after learning that Chester University issued one to first-year students about the book “Harry Potter And The Philosopher’s Stone”, which is part of their literature module.

The university said, “The warning encourages students to talk to tutors if anything is particularly difficult because of its personal relevance.”

Unless you’ve been stranded on a desert island for the last 20 years (and if you have, welcome back) you’ll know the book is about a boy wizard who competes in games, while flying a broomstick, and encounters supernatural creatures.

It’s reasonable to ask, with so many great works of literature available, why are they studying it?

What’s next on their study list?  “The Tiger Who Came To Tea” . . .  accompanied by a “Tiger Warning?”

As I write, I’m in the middle of fighting yet another parking fine.
In my defence, the ticket machine in question would not take the extra coins needed for the length of time that my vehicle was parked in a small Swansea car park.  I paid for one hour – but needed two hours.

The machine would not take the money for two hours.  I just knew there would be problems. Not a single car park attendant in sight.  How frustrating is that.

My meeting meant that I was unable to pop out and top up, but as luck had it, I only ended up being 14 minutes over my allotted time.  Imagine my surprise to see a parking ticket on my car in this short space of time.

The attendant must have been hiding behind another car counting down on a stopwatch.

If machines don’t work properly, why should people be punished?
I’m not letting this one rest!

Have you had any similar experiences of parking problems lately?
I’d love to hear from you if you have.

Humour has been an important part of our DNA since the Dawn of Man, which was at 5.43 a.m. on a damp Monday.

Laughter’s a wonderful safety valve that helps us through challenging times and, sadly, we recently lost two veteran laughter creators.  Wyn Calvin, “The Welsh Prince of Laughter” was 96, while writer and broadcaster Barry Cryer was 86.

You might think that living to those great ages isn’t bad, but I’m sure Barry would counter that by saying “97 and 87 would be a darn sight better!!”

Apart from being a star of radio comedy, Wyn Calvin was one of the best panto dames in the business and donned dresses and wigs in theatres all over the UK for many years and I hope the young comics he worked with observed and absorbed whatever it was that made Wyn connect with an audience.

He cracked this funny gag on a breakfast TV show a while back.   “Cardiff City’s score last night was nil. And they were lucky to get that!”

Wyn never resorted to blue humour and it wasn’t just because in the days when he was a pantomime star it simply wouldn’t have been allowed by the producers.

He kept the jokes squeaky clean and family friendly because that’s what pantomimes should offer.

As an aside, and in complete contrast to Wyn’s attitude, I was told that the recent Birmingham pantomime contained a barrage of cringe-inducing single-entendre gags that might have been taken from the Chubby Brown Guide To Comedy!

Plenty of newspaper articles and obituaries have covered Barry Cryer’s career in detail, so in tribute to a genuinely funny man, here’s the first ever sketch he sold to television, for a Dick Emery show.  It made me laugh out loud and I hope it tickles your funny bone.

A married couple are sitting in their living room and there’s a knock on the door.  The woman gets up to answer it and a moment later comes back and says to her husband “There’s a man at the door who says he fought with you in the War.”  The man gets up, goes to the door and who’s standing there?
Adolf Hitler!

R.I.P. Barry & Wyn.

I remember the days when you could only get petrol, oil and bags of coal from the local petrol station.  How times have changed!

Today, most petrol stations are as well stocked up as the supermarkets, which is a blessing in more ways than one for many men, especially with Valentine’s Day around the corner!

The last-minute chocolates, cards and flowers can quite often save a relationship.  Having said that, Welsh men are actually quite lucky – we get St Dwynwen’s Day on the 25th January, which I’m convinced was created as a three-week pre-warning just so we don’t forget.

Last year, I decided to get that special person in my life some lovely flowers for St Valentine’s Day.  The landlord of my local was quite touched and displayed them in a vase on the bar.

Pam Ayres summed-up our attitude towards our gnashers in her famous – and still very funny – poem “I Wish I’d Looked After My Teeth”.

Interestingly, when I watched Ms Ayres’ recent TV series, in which she travelled around the Cotswolds, whenever she encountered someone or something that caused her to smile, her teeth seemed perfectly fine to me.

Perhaps in the decades since she wrote the poem she’s been treated by the same Harley Street dentist who apparently looks after everyone currently on TV.  Game show hosts, antique experts, newsreaders and weather forecasters all possess supernaturally white gnashers

One of ITV’s lunchtime ‘Loose Women’ has a set of teeth so blindingly white, when she laughs she could stand in for the Beachy Head Lighthouse should the keeper ever run out of shillings for the meter.

On second thoughts, maybe those TV folk didn’t look after their teeth and had to have them improved by expensive veneers and all the other head-spinning expensive cosmetic treatments available for those who can afford then.

I’ve got teeth in my head – where else would they be? – because I read that due to a lack of NHS dentists all over the UK a frighteningly large number of people have been doing their own dental work!

As bizarre as it sounds, because there aren’t enough NHS dentists, one in five people have performed DIY dentistry…including…brace yourselves for this…pulling out their own teeth!

I can’t be trusted to pull a rusty nail out of an old plank with a pair of pliers, let alone one of my own incisors!

More than half of Brits haven’t seen a dentist for over a year because even if they could arrange an appointment with a non-NHS dentist, they believe the cost of treatment, even a basic check-up, is unaffordable.  That is a terrible state of affairs.

I can relate to this, because the last time I visited a dentist, as I sat in the chair with my mouth open and eyes closed, I heard him say “Mister Evans, I’m afraid this will have to come out…and this…and this…and this!”

When I opened my eyes, he was taking £20 notes out of my wallet!

Prior to Covid, I did a lot of driving up and down the country and much of this time was spent on motorways, where you really have to have your wits about you.  It’s a free-for-all at times, I’m sure you will agree.

It seems to me that the nation’s driving is getting worse; everyone seems to be in a rush.

Now then, here is one thing that never fails to amaze me.  A few times recently I have been happily travelling along within the speed limit and out of nowhere, right behind me appears someone who is in much more of a rush than the rest of the universe.

I can’t see their number plate as they are so frighteningly close.  When they pass me, I can clearly see the likes of ‘Bob’s Plastering Service’, ‘Pete’s Plumbing’, accompanied by their email address and contact number.

Now forgive me if I’m wrong, but driving like an absolute plonker while advertising your contact details on your van is not the ideal way to promote your business, is it?  Just sayin’