I don't get people. What's their appeal, precisely? They waddle around with their haircuts on, cluttering the pavement like gormless, farting skittles. They're awful. - Charlie Brooker

When I was about 12 I once spent a happy few days staying at a beach bungalow in Hikkaduwa part owned by Mr. Clarke, there I read a set of the Space Odyssey novels belonging to my Grandad (Also Arthur C.) but the pinnacle of the experience looking back at it is playing on A.C.C's beloved table tennis table. Up until recently he still played a mean game. My uncle swore that at eighty five and in a wheelchair he was still unbeatable. Happy Birthday to him!