There are no lollies in the Lolly Factory. There used to be! When the factory actually produced real lollies. Varieties that would turn the head of the sweetest tooth. All shapes and sizes, all flavours, and all colours. It was shut down, because, management in their blinkered, philistine, misogynist way refused to see reason. You see, they manufactured a product by the name of Ladies’ Allsorts. And, it was a big seller. The varieties of lollies was exquisite…’delicious’ woul

‘There are no words to this song, Hey lolly lolly lo, You make them up as you go, Hey lolly lolly lo.’*     Step 1. Have a brilliant idea (preferably while drunk, in love, infuriated, or all of the above) and scrawl a two-sentence outline on a napkin.   Step 2 . Earn the disapproval of the waiter for destroying the table linen.   Step 3. Purloin the napkin (they don’t care anymore anyway) and forget how you managed to get home.   Step 4. Take some Alka-Seltzer when you wak

“What do you mean I can’t go? We always go!! You promised us we would go. This is not fair; I always buy a big bag of Lollygobbleblissbombs. You promised mummy. It’s not fair, its its…” Marty breaks down to dribbling and whining as he stamps his feet and thumps his little fists into the un-mowed grass. This seems to bother the bull ants who are looking for any passing picnic at the time and don’t like the idea of being hit in the head by a snotty nosed 15yr old spoilt bra