Love the grandmothers, I want to be like that when I have to be one!!

Our version was he hasn't the sense God gave a lettuce.

And our non PC was 'camp as a row of pink tents', one that will for ever describe a friend, now sadly gone, victim of the big C, who, at a folk festival, unrolled his tent and proceeded to pitch. After a muffled exclaimation, he emerged waving a pair of pants/trollies/shreddies/whatever you want to call them, in the air and saying 'I wondered where they had gone'. Now, given that he hadn't been camping since the festival the previous year, you just knew that they had been in there for 12 months, but were never quite certain that it might not have been more...... For him, the world will always be 'sooooooo fruity'.

LTS