The Unofficial Professor F J Lewis Appreciation Thread

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I have seen those pants, yes.

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Those are the words of a man who does not wear pants at all.
You've got no pants and you're on the phone.

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The reason you don't have pants is because they were confiscated after you continuously soiled them.
That was when you were in your twenties.
That's scoff-worthy, that is.

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Hah!
You speak of my ablution facilities while hiding the fact that your latrine has been discovered in the Sahara desert, and has been linked to the testing of nefarious take-away foodstuffs of the most devious toxicity.
Only a man with no pants could own such a latrine.

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@ Karlos

See a haughty, proud middle-aged woman with pince-nez adorning a vulture-like nose and heavy Thatcheresque jowls? See her sitting aloof in the waiting area of a Harley Street clinic, one eyebrow slightly arched while she shifts her weight almost imperceptibly from one buttock to the other in an attempt to prevent the passing of wind? Do you see that barely animated figure, totally at odds with her surroundings?
That's your ideal date, that is.
That's who you have been trying to make contact with in the personal advertisements of the Cross Stitcher's Weekly after you failed to find a mate outside the local bingo hall.

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Hah!
You speak of restraining orders when your rusted VW beetle is prohibited in every city center in England. That's because you were luring cats to their deaths on the freeway, by dragging a piece of rotting haddock behind said vehicle.
And that's how you tried to woo the ladies, that was.
But Thatcher didn't bite and that's what made you cry.

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You're sour because Thatcher didn't bite.

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No, my good man, that sort of skill never wanes.
I'll see what I can do.
Where is PMC, by the way?

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See a rusted, mangled shopping trolley, embedded wheels-up in the river, having been stolen by Chavs?
See the clumps of wet toilet paper strung on the wirework and the half-deflated condoms that were the Chavs' mascot on this trolley?
That's PMC's motorcar, that is.
That's his car after he prepared it for his wedding.

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Said waterway is paradise compared to where you go on holiday.

See an offal rendering plant, processing the guts, gizzards and various off-cuts from the seediest butchers in the most economically-challenged village on earth?
See the huge iron cauldrons used to boil such slop, the bits of animal bowel, mucous, chicken toenails and cartilage adhering to the rim as the contents are poured from there into an acid bath?
Do you see that steaming, gritty, foul pot emitting such a potent stench that not even the bravest of flies dares to draw near?
That's your prime holiday spot, that is. That's where you curl up with your copy of 'Inside MS DOS' to read on vacation.

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I see.

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I at least can get to London, having been attracted to said civilisation by like-minded academics, and having acquired the wherewithal to purchase and pilot a suitable vehicle for taking a significant other to the restaurant.

See a derelict tramp, his clothes in threads, his features gaunt, his appearance lacking any kind of charm or sophistication? See how he nervously clutches the last remaining rusted coins in his possession, as he leans haphazardly against the bus shelter, his odour almost physically pushing the other customers away?
That's you, that is.
That's you waiting for the number 130 bus, hoping you'll catch the one that your girlfriend is driving, so you won't have to pay the bus fare. That's what happens in Yorkshire as opposed to London.

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He is going to cry.

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We should analyse the rationale, effect and influence on future civilisations of the introduction of metallic money by the Phoenicians in 1500 B.C.
Instead of trading in livestock, which were often cumbersome and difficult to transport, the Phoenicians invented metallic curved coins or tokens of value, thus avoiding the need for large cargo carrying ships when trading for goods.
Of course this was a highly advanced adaptation of the trading system of the time, an advance which you could well take on board even today.

I have seen you trying to catch pigeons to exchange for burgers at Burger King and I was hoping that some of the advances made by the Phoenicians more than 3000 years ago may appeal to you, if presented by an academic of suffiently high prowess, such as Professor F J Lewis, the very man with whom you are now fortunate to communicate!