Have you been in the maddening situation when someone’s annoyed or insulted you but you couldn’t think of a suitable response quickly enough and the pithy comeback you wished you’d said came to you hours later?
When “Only Fools and Horses” creator John Sullivan was asked how he thought of the sharp dialogue exchanges between Del Boy and the other characters in the classic sitcom, John said “I just give them the sort of comebacks I wish I’dthought of in annoying situations, but hadn’t at the time!”
Sir Winston Churchill may have been a national hero, but his bullishness occasionally rubbed his contemporaries up the wrong way, including individuals with a wit as sharp as his own.
After prodding a portly male friend’s stomach and jokily enquiring, “What are you going to call the baby?”, the immediate reply was, “If it’s a boy, John. If it’s a girl, Mary. And if it’s wind . . . Winston!”
Back of the net!
A friend of mine and his wife had a weekend visit from a couple (let’s call them Doris and Boris) they hadn’t seen for ages, who’d become boorish snobs since they last met and behaved obnoxiously all day Saturday.
Then, things got worse when they all went out to dinner with mutual friends in the evening . . .
The experience was a ‘horror show’ from the moment Doris requested a starter that wasn’t on the menu, declaring, “Chef will enjoy making that!” and Boris ordered the most expensive wine on the menu, despite the fact he’d been unemployed for months.
As that bottle didn’t go far between six, my friend named a different, less expensive wine they might like to order.
Pulling a face, Doris said snootily, “I’m not drinking that muck!”, to which my friend said, “You were happy to drink it at our house last night!”
You’d think that would have given Doris pause for thought, but she had the brass nerve to say, “I didn’t say I enjoyed it!”
To which my patient friend coolly pointed out, “Well, you didn’t refuse a second glass!”
There was no possible answer to that.  Back of the net again!

If I had a shiny penny for every time my late grandma wagged her finger at me and said, “Don’t you dare ditch your winter gear until May is over,” I’d be swimming in a sea of cash right now.
She was dead serious about this rule and would make me parade around in a puffy winter coat, even when the birds were singing and the sun was shining in April.
But one year, I decided to be a rebel and put her theory to the test.
In early May, I ditched my coat like a hot potato.
And, wouldn’t you know it, the weather turned colder than a penguin’s belly!
I instantly regretted my decision as I shivered and cursed under my breath.
My grandma couldn’t resist a chuckle and triumphantly declared, “I told you so!”
But let me tell you, she took this clout-casting rule to a whole new level.
One summer, I paid her a visit in June, expecting some sunshine and warmth.
But there she was, still bundled up in her winter coat, adamant that the saying applied until the end of June.
I couldn’t help but giggle at her stubbornness.
I mean, who needs a winter coat when you’re sweating like a pig in the summer heat?
In the end, I’ve come to realise that it’s best to take this saying with a pinch of salt and rely on good old common sense when it comes to dressing for the weather.
But I’ll always cherish the memories of my grandma’s hilarious devotion to this quirky old saying.
She may have been a tad extreme, but she sure knew how to keep life interesting!

Thanks to decades of watching American films and TV, I have the impression that our cousins across ‘The Pond’ – particularly the wealthy who live on the East and West coasts and have time and money to spare – take it for granted that they need to regularly visit a psychiatrist.
They spend an hour’s session lying on a couch while unburdening themselves of past frustrations, slights and injustices in a bid to ‘learn to know themselves’.
They see their psychiatrist more frequently than we see our hairdresser and barber.
Talking of which, have you noticed there are more barber shops around than at any other time in human history, despite the fact loads of men deliberately adopt the smooth Telly Savalas/Kojak look, so have little need to visit a barber?
It’s a mystery worthy of Conan Doyle.
There may come a time when yours truly might feel the benefit of psychoanalysis, but until I do, I’m able to unburden myself of life’s frustration, slights and injustices right here on this page on a regular basis.
So, really, I’m using you as an unpaid ‘trick cyclist’.
Which is fortunate when so many things today, how can I put this subtly? DRIVE ME UP THE WALL!
At one time, we didn’t pronounce the word ‘Research’ with the emphasis on the first syllable. But since most of the British media started pronouncing it the way Americans do as ‘Ree-search’ several years ago, a whole generation has grown up believing that’s the correct way to say it.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve seen online newspaper articles that are headed something like “You’ve been washing your clothes wrong!” or “You’ve been mowing your lawn wrong!”
No, headline writers! You’ve been writing your headlines ‘wrong’!
The word they should be using is ‘incorrectly’ as any ‘fule nose’!
And have you also noticed how “two-times” has replaced ‘twice’ as in “It acts two-times as fast!” in radio and TV advertisements? Yet another annoying American expression that’s crept in.
My usual ree-action to these wrong things is to blurt out a ‘discouraging word’. Not once. But two times!

Mister Summer’s arrived at our front doors for his annual visit, carrying a suitcase full of sunshine.
He usually hangs around for a couple of months and although his warm personality is always welcome, he can be a notoriously contrary visitor.
He has a tendency to unexpectedly pop-off on holiday at the drop of a Panama hat for a couple of days, allowing his greyer, rather more miserable brother Mister Rain to move in temporarily and dampen everyone’s spirits.
He certainly dampened my spirits the afternoon I left half a glass of vodka outside on the patio table during a thunderstorm and returned to find it diluted and undrinkable.
One thing I don’t like about summertime is the proliferation of ‘mini-beasts’ it brings out.
If I decide to relax in my garden with a coffee and newspaper, within minutes the creepy crawly clarion call goes up and my chair’s invaded by ants; woodlice; wasps; bluebottles; flies; beetles; big fat bumble bees . . . and spiders of varying size.
Although I’ve had a few unpleasant confrontations with insects and arachnids, thankfully I’ve never gone through what Victoria Price from Porthcawl once experienced.
Suffering from a pain in her ear, she asked her husband Huw to take a look.
To his surprise (and her horror!) he found a live spider lurking in the ear canal.
So, they went straight to the Princess of Wales hospital in Bridgend, where she was treated by nurse practitioner Sarah Gaze.
According to Victoria, “Sarah shone a torch in my ear, said ‘Okay’ and then went off to find someone who would take it out.”
Who was that? Indiana Jones?
Removing the spider was a straightforward task, involving tweezers, a steady hand and a lot of patience. As to how the spider got there, Victoria thought it was hiding in the hood of a coat she’d put on after swimming in the sea.
Worryingly, this isn’t an isolated incident.
A few years back, the singer Katie Melua kept hearing a scratching noise – and when she went to the doctor’s she discovered to her shock that it was caused by a spider living inside her ear.
Worryingly, it’d been there for a week!
And hadn’t the decency to pay something towards the rent.
So, before you rest your head on your pillow tonight, check there’s nothing nasty scrabbling around in your bed and don’t let your ear become a web-site!

Festivals are not just about having a blast, they’re a much-needed escape from the daily grind.
It’s the time to let your hair down, forget your worries, and immerse yourself in a world of pure fun.
From mind-blowing music to mouth-watering food and jaw-dropping art, there’s something for everyone. No matter what you’re into, festivals have got you covered!
But hold on, there’s more to festivals than meets the eye.
These epic gatherings are not just good for our souls, they’re also a major boost for our local economies.
Think about it: small businesses get a chance to shine, communities thrive, and jobs are created. It’s a win-win situation!
Plus, festivals are a golden opportunity for talented artists and performers to show off their skills to a massive crowd. It’s like their time to shine under the spotlight!
So, let’s get out there and support our favourite festivals. Attend them, volunteer, and spread the word on social media like it’s your job!
Life is too short to miss out on the good times, and festivals are the ultimate celebration of life itself. Let’s make memories, make friends, and make the most of every moment.
Get ready to dance, laugh, and create unforgettable experiences. The festival season is here, and it’s time to party like there’s no tomorrow!

When Noel Coward attended West End opening nights, after the show he was invariably asked backstage where the actors, writers and director eagerly awaited his critique.
Early in his career, Noel may have sometimes been brutally honest when asked, “So, what did you think of the show?”
But, in later life, he cannily respond in one of two ways.
“What can I say?” or “You’ve done it again!”
Both open to wide interpretation!
I recently thought, “Phil. you’ve done it again!” when I made the mistake of watching a TV discussion in which a none-too-well-informed young lady stridently complained, “Pensioners, with their massive 8.5% pension increase, are ruining the lives and prospects of 20-somethings who can’t get on the housing ladder. Pensioners don’t need increased benefits because they haven’t got mortgages!”
Ladies and gents . . . there’s more!
Revealing a breathtaking ignorance of 20th Century social history, she claimed, “Pensioners had it so much easier when they were in their 20s!”
A justifiably peeved pensioner taking part explained she had started work in 1965 and, to take on a mortgage when she got married, she had three part-time jobs – one of which paid £2 a week.
Oh yes. Things were SO much easier then!
The pensioner eloquently added that not all pensioners are mortgage-free and like everyone else they pay council tax, water rates, utility bills and pay for . . . What’s that ‘luxury’? Oh yes! Food!
The young lady’s crass reference to the State Pension being a ‘benefit’ was also given short shrift! Pensioners have paid income tax and National Insurance since they started work.
Having paid in for half a century, they quite rightly expect the DPW to pay out. That’s the deal.
The young lady preferred to ignore the fact that the recent pension increase has pushed many retired pensioners into the tax-paying bracket. What’s given with one hand is craftily taken away by another!
To become a doctor or solicitor you must study for years before you’re allowed to give your professional opinion.
Yet any idiot can appear on TV and be allowed to express theirs, however half-baked. What can I say?

It was once a common sight, hanging on the wall behind the counter, in many small shops and mini-markets.
A clearly written sign, in full view of every customer, that read, “Please do not ask for credit as a refusal often offends.”
Some younger readers might think it sounds ‘quaint’, but they must admit the wording – polite but to the point – removed any possibly ambiguity regarding whether customers might be able to buy a loaf of bread, a packet of tea and a pint of milk ‘on tick’.
It was cash up front or go elsewhere.
And you’d be hard pressed to find another small business that didn’t have a similar sign behind the counter.
Today, in small shops, people use a debit card to buy anything from a newspaper to a sausage roll. Which is a form of credit that no-one thinks twice about.
That said, when Tesco and Sainsburys had computer meltdowns a few Saturdays ago, for a few hours they could onlyaccept cash . . . which bewildered customers who believe we’re already living in a cashless society.
Presumably, they left the store without their weekly ‘big shop’.
Bear that in mind next time someone confidently tells you, “No-one uses cash anymore!”
Maybe I’m wrong (I guarantee someone will be only too eager to point it out – yes, that’s YOU, Mrs Betty Evans of Fishguard Harbour), but current affairs shows love booking guests who hold whacky opinions and are in a permanent state of expecting to be offended by somebody else’s viewpoint.
It’s not enough for them to simply disagree with someone who has the opposite – and usually more reasonable – view to theirs.
They have to claim they’ve been ‘offended’ because the other person has the ‘audacity’ to disagree with them.
The discussion gets more ‘volcanic’ than ‘heated’ which leaves both parties disgruntled, and viewers frustrated, wondering why they bothered watching.
Here’s a helpful suggestion for TV current affairs producer. Have a big sign permanently hanging in the studio that says . . .
“Please don’t disagree with dippy guests, as a rebuttal of their daft opinion will definitely offend!”

As I sit here, contemplating the elusive concept known as ‘summer’ in Wales, I can’t help but wonder if we’ll ever experience it.
You see, summer is like that distant relative who promises to visit every year but never actually shows up.
Will this be the year we finally get a taste of those long summer days and warm summer nights?
Or will we be left longing for a relaxing break that may never come?
Rumour has it that travel agents are being bombarded with inquiries, as if the mere glimpse of sunshine last weekend has ignited a collective desire for a getaway.
Could this be a sign that the financial hardships are finally behind us and people have more money to spare?
Or is it simply a testament to the fact that people will always find a way to splurge on what makes them feel good, no matter the circumstances?
They say a change is as good as a rest, but it seems most folks are willing to venture overseas in search of guaranteed sunshine.
It’s a bit disheartening, really, considering the natural beauty that surrounds us in this part of the world.
We’re truly blessed, yet we find ourselves yearning for foreign shores.
Speaking of yearning, one of my so-called friends suggested we go camping this year.
After careful consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that nobody needs friends like this.
Life is already hard enough without subjecting ourselves to the trials and tribulations of outdoor living.
So, farewell to the idea of camping, and hello to a life of relative comfort and indoor plumbing.