I do like a good conspiracy theory. Who really killed JFK? Who shot JR? Questions that keep you hanging on the edge of your seat until the next series or the newest wave of evidence/fabrication come into play.
It's a bit over 40 years since Gil Scott-Heron penned the piece that would earn him monikers like ''the godfather of rap'' and ''founder of the spoken word movement'' for the rest of his days.
There are lots of contenders for the saddest lines ever written.
I was brought up on traditional Christmas stories, the sort that saw me going to midnight Mass and arranging holy plaster figures in a home-made wooden crib.
My granddad taught me how to bowl. A cricket ball, of course; for him there was no other sport. I remember standing in the back garden, the smell of cardigan wafting from behind me, his big hands over mine.
Liz Breslin spills the beans on her trip to the formerly top-secret Bletchley Park.
Sitting in the dentist's chair is one of the last refuges of single-tasking.
The news that our terrorism alert levels have gone from very low to low in the past few weeks has brought to mind those swingometer rural fire warning rainbow charts.
After a week at home with the flu (the real sort, the doctor said), we'd tried most things.
Let's face it. There's a lot wrong with the world these days. But two things make me really mad. Stainless steel pineapple slicers and planned obsolescence. Let me explain.
As far as I can tell, there is no official mental disorder relating to sports fanaticism.
Altruism might not be such a fashionable thing these days: in the culture of the selfie we're encouraged to consider, enhance and preen ourselves before we ever get to thinking about others in society.
Here is a millstone to grow up with: big boys don't cry.
Last week a friend opined that if there was a pill you could take three times daily to give you all the food nutrition you need, she'd never cook another meal.
It would be much easier to adopt a poker face if we were in control.
''With great freedom comes great responsibility.'' Liz Breslin debates the issue of freedom camping in New Zealand.
If the stories are not recalled, they will be forgotten.
A little procrastination can go a long way. Even when it's not on your to-do list.
In 1990, Andre Agassi starred in commercials for a camera brand.
Some people notice shoes, right? Walk down the street and that's what they'll look at.