I had a fellow commuter who claimed that he could never be wrong. His name was Arthur Wright and he said as long as he was Wright, being wrong would be a contradiction in terms. As a result he never had to appypollylog to anybody.
Me? I'm a horse of a different colour. I've been wrong so often that when I get it right the world celebrates. So, unlike my friend Mr Wright, I get lots of practice at the old appypollylog.
Hmm... I wonder if his wife ever asked for a refund when she took Mr Wright to be her one and only and found that he wasn't as perfect as his name?
What you got back home, little sister, to play your fuzzy warbles on? I bet you got little save pitiful, portable picnic players. Come with uncle and hear all proper! Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You are invited.
Benedict Arnold 