Cheers, mate!

There are a lot of revelations, the older you get: There is no Santa, Easter Bunny or god..., your "Gay-dar" begins to work (I never would have believed... Paul Lynde??? ) and "Kill the Wabbit" was not an Elmer Fudd original, but was instead based on some Germanic musical ditty. More interestingly, Andy Capp becomes a role model.





Firstly, he's eloquent and speaks his mind - also, he makes up for his lack of skills and shortcomings with resourcefulness. His "devil-may-care" attitude might not help him win any popularity contests, but hey... who else won popularity contests besides Marcia Brady?







Secondly, he doesn't understand women any more than the rest of us. In this sissy-ass age of Dr. Phil and that couch jumping "fella" Tom Cruise, harking back to the days when men and women were cut from different jibs once in a while makes us actually more attractive to each other.








Lastly, on behalf of my balls, I'd like to thank him for his patented, and unconventional sleeping style. As any father can tell you, sleeping on the couch with a couple of kids is a risky endeavor, since the young 'uns invariably target the testes as they dash across the living room in your direction.






If that's not enough, he proudly endorses the greatest 'drunk' snack since beernuts. Sure, they're lowbrow and about as nutritious as sand, but in a pinch, there is nothing tastier. Well, maybe a nice Dagwood sandwich, but who's got the time or dexterity to pull that one off at 1 a.m.?






Here's to you, Andy. Sure, you're an unemployed lout, have a tendency to womanize and, worst of all, you're British, but you're all right in my book. Flo is lucky to have you.