An intriguing offer arrived in the email this week, apart from the usual fascinating offers, such as enough Viagra to raise the Titanic; or yet another Rolex watch to match the ones that thousands of fanatical readers send me; or 'Hello, I am Nadia, a good bride for you from Moscow.”

Which I don't doubt for a minute, and it would be worth a whirl, only she may not last long when my wife finds her installed at home. Thanks Nadia, but I won't be rushin' into that deal. Wouldn't say no to a quick squizz at the photos, mind you.
No, this message in question is from someone called Maureen, titled:
'Come and join us at Playcentre!”
My first reaction:
'Are you completely insane?”
Why would anyone in their right mind purposely put themselves in confined quarters with several dozen small, energetic children with very shrill voices and vast amounts of fingerpaint destined for your trouser legs?
I have enough trouble keeping myself from tearing my hair out if I'm trapped in the same room as my own two little darlings. And they are 21 and 19. I can only imagine the horror of a swarm of under fives. In fact I remember their days at kindy and still marvel at how parents survive it.
Then it occurred to me that right now, hundreds of parents and playcentres are preparing to do just that – launch themselves back into the trials and tribulations of early childhood education. And by all accounts, they are of sound mind and judgement. Well, most. Some have clearly cracked.
Reading on, the invitation is to those with preschoolers, to see what it's all about. That was a relief, since I clearly haven't qualified for at least 12 years. And I suspect any middle aged man turning up at playcentre without a qualifying child would, in this PC age, be immediately arrested and be offered to Graeme Capill as a room mate.
However, Maureen raises a good point for those with young'uns, that playcentre is worth checking out.
What better way to help mould the minds of our future generations? I salute all those fine teachers and volunteers who are this week launching themselves back into the rigours of another school and preschool year.
Wear old trousers.

Spelling police
In other news, debate is still raging about the spelling of Fonganui, which is now officially neither Whanganui or Wanganui.
The government is trying to keep everyone happy, opting for the Status Quo.
Here at RR we think Status Quo is a silly name for a city, but pretty cool for a rock band.
So we'll keep calling it Fonganui.
Also the government says you can spell it which ever way you like.
I have some startling news for the government: There is no law (ha ha) against spelling names incorrectly.
So there is little point in telling people how they are 'allowed” to spell things. If there was a law against bad spelling, three quarters of the population, including 80 per cent of journalists, 90 per cent of teachers, and 99 per cent of signwriters would be locked up by now.
Dog tucker
And speaking of locked up, that's where the moron who fed kittens to his pit bull needs to go.
One irate caller to the Sun who rang to express the irony that this guy had been ordered to have no contact with animals said that 'He is one.”
It's timely that our local MP Simon Bridges is pushing for harsher penalties for animal cruelty.

Ropehead spliced
Meanwhile the really big news is that Nandor had a haircut. It was a major headline in Granny Herald.
Ex MP Tanczos drivelled on about it being some sort of cleansing ritual after his torrid time in parliament, freeing himself of the pollution.
Can you believe this bull? The only pollution would be the oil slick on the barber's floor and the homeless critters scuttling away to find a new home. Why this makes the headlines is beyond me.
Our neighbour Werner (pictured) gives excellent haircuts every day on The Strand but you don't see that as breaking news in 48 point Times New Roman. Except today, in an attempt to redress the balance.

Parting shot
Finally, a lot of Tiger's big sponsors may have abandoned him after the affair, but word is that he's picked up a major audio company, keen to align its sound system with the golf star.
Their product is High Infidelity.