All Manner of Miscellaneous Bollocks [ed. Dogtooth]

I was going to write a review of my current obsession, the webcomic Achewood, but I'm feeling lethargic, so instead I'm just going to throw you a handfull of ill-conceived jokes and observations in the manner of a unemployed Parisian left-bank [rive-gauche? ed. Dogtooth] 'thinker'.

Firstly, inspired by Dogtooth's arch intellectual in-jokery I thought I'd dig up some literary and artistic chat-up lines I crafted some time ago:

Postmodernist: Hey baby, how would you like to mute my post-horn?
Futurist: To be honest, I'm just looking for a quick shag...

Surrealist: Fancy making a call on my lobster telephone?

Vorticist: Sleep with me or I'll hit you on the tits with this bar stool.

Beat Novelist: Can I balance this whisky bottle on your head?

If you are anything like me you will have been wanting to see Norman Mailer bite a chunk out of Rip Torn's ear for some time. .

I was reading the Sunday Times in bed this morning (more accurately, I woke up and found the Sunday Times was in bed with me, and a good deal of the ink was actually on me: I am becoming text) and I saw a mention of the TV series Hornblower. For some reason I have a real objection to this series, and I can't for the life of me remember why. Any suggestions would be welcome.

I was going to give you a picture of the Florentine Pietà in a sort of lame attempt to show that I'm just as down with the visual arts as Dogtooth, but it doesn't really photograph that well, so instead here's a picture of Beckett, the most photogenic man in history.