One tiny dollop of toothpaste, dropped onto your dark shirt front will stand out like a fluoroescent blob of liquid paper ~all day~, no matter how many times you try to rub some water into it?
Could it be used to cheaply paint 'night view' stripes on bicycle tops?
The gooey, inedible remains of Weetbix, if left in the bowl for longer than three minutes, sets harder than super glue and must be soaked an entire day for each minute left unrinsed.
The local hippy hills dwellers could use it as a more natural (it's always the most wholesome breakfast cereal as determined by Choice magazine) adhesive for their mud-brick houses. That way they save can money on cement costs and maintain bowel regularity.
All over-publicised and celebrated 'Gen Y Millionaires Under Thirty' all come from wealthy families who either owned part of the company or lent them the money to start their own business?
Come on, recite the old eighties-recession joke with me: How do you create a small business? Give ~insert billionaire's spawn name/s here~ a large one.
Babies can lift their pudgy little feet up to their mouths and suck at their toes with minimal effort.
Yet later on in life when such natural gymnastic ability would be rather welcome in ~ahem~ our nocturnal nookie naughties, it is only the pornographic (see Pamela Anderson) or the depraved (see Paris Hilton) or the Circus Freaks (see previous two) that can put their ankles behind their ears?
We love our parents, appreciate how hard they worked to provide for us and raise a happy family and yet it is the biggest and lowest form of insult when your partner snipes, 'You are soooooo like your Mother/Father.'
Bless 'em both, but I don't want my father's hairy ear canals or my mother's ability to staccato-sneeze continuously for ten minute intervals.
When you politely sneeze into a tissue, you get nothing but air and tiny droplets.
But sneezing with your mouth open leaves an embarrassingly large snail trail either hanging out of your nostrils like green stalactites or splats straight onto someone's trouser leg. Especially if you're in the middle of a powerpoint presentation or at a romantic restaurant.
If you have small, innocent children with you and animals of any form are nearby, they will, without fail, either flop out their tumescent pink dangly bits or have a mad rutting session directly in front of you.
And trust me: there's only so many times you can say, "Oh, they're just play fighting" before they keep asking "Why" and won't take, "Just because, eat your cornetto" as an acceptable answer.
The more urgently you need to be back at the office, the less likely the tradie will arrive anywhere near the time (give or take six hours) he promised you yesterday he'd be there.
If you're renting, then it's even worse. The situation will be fixed just as you finally move out and the costs taken out of your bond money.
With the most decent and very best of intentions, you will always be caught farting.
Even the sly one you've considerately dropped at the front door away from your loved ones will be blamed (quite rightly) on you. These little bottie burps are like homing pigeons or heat-seeking missiles that will follow through to the living room, where, like the old saying it will hang around you. Like a bad smell.
Just as you insert three minties, a white knight and/or several fantails into your mouth and start to enjoy them, the telephone will ring.
The call will most definitely be for you and will require you to be at your most eloquent, persuasive and professional; which is rather a challenge when your molars are glued shut with caramel and you sound like a walrus burping in a cave.
There. Now use this information wisely and improve yourselves and the wider community you live in.