C (9:42)

Hi Bill, it's Orlando here from Sydney, Australia. I just have a question about op shopping and cravats. I'm a 21 year old university student and I often find that classic menswear can be quite expensive. So I go op shopping and I just wondered whether you ever go op shopping and if you have any advice for your younger listeners on how to acquire classic menswear at a more reasonable cost. The second part of my question is cravats and wearing cravats. I was very lucky to inherit my grandfather's from the 1940s and 50s and I love wearing them, but they can be very flamboyant and I just wondered whether you think you can wear a cravat in this day and age and whether they might make a comeback and if you ever wear a cravat. Thank you so much, Bill.

B (10:31)

Ciao, Orlando. I spent half my life in what they now call vintage shops. They used to be called second hand shops and I've just been told that they are now also called pre loved shops. And I'm instantly putting pre loved on the banned word list because it's just too, too bad. Anyway, yeah, no, so I dressed almost exclusively out of vintage stores when I was a kid, or rather when I was a young man. And it's a great idea. I live near quite a famous vintage store, but it's mostly caters to women. But yeah, and you would go to posh areas where the secondhand stuff would be, you know, posher. When I say vintage stores, I don't mean what you call apparently in Australia, op shopping, because that means charity shops. I did go to charity shops, but there were also vintage stores which were not for charity. They were for the person who ran the shop to make some money. But either way they would be secondhand clothes. I loved the kind of randomness of it and that you would get things that you wouldn't normally if you wouldn't go in a shop and buy them for, you know, new. But they were somehow acceptable because they were secondhand. As for cravats, Orlando, are you out of your mind? It's 2026, you can't wear a cravat and you're at university. You'll never get laid, you'll never get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or whatever it is you're looking for because you will look like someone who is pretending to be 63. I just don't think they will ever be. It's, you know, who knows? Everything goes in circles, but I don't think they'll ever be rehabilitated. I wear a scarf under a coat and I tie the scarf around my neck. And somebody the other day, a young person said to me at work, oh, that's a nice cravat. And I was, I tell you, I had to watch my mouth, I had to restrain myself. And I said, tight lipped. I said, it's a scarf. And she went, oh, I thought it was a cravat. She said the word twice. Anyway, they may be cute and they came down the family line and everything and they have sentimental value, but for God's sake, wear them around the house, but don't go out on the street. That would be my advice, Orlando. But then again, you know, like everything, that's just me, you may be able to pull it off. Hi, Bill, it's Christina Anne Chesterton here from deepest Burgundy in France. I'd like to know your thoughts about etiquette when taking one's dachshund or as they're known here, Tekel with one for dinner or social occasions at friends or acquaintances. Thank you, Christina. Hello. I used to have a friend called Ken Campbell. And Ken Campbell was a genius. He was routinely described in the newspaper as a lunatic genius, which used to really get to him. And he'd say, why can't I be a genius like all the other geniuses. And he had a dog called Werner, who was ironically called Werner, after Werner Earhart, of Earhart seminar training fame, which was a sort of semi cult that happened in the 19 somethings. And he ironically called his dog, who was a girl, Werner. But he used to say that if they won't take the dog, don't go. He conducted his life according to where Werner was allowed. And therefore, if Werner wasn't allowed, he wouldn't turn up. And he wouldn't go into any establishment where they wouldn't tolerate wurner, which is one way of navigating through life by dog. Navigating by dog. I used to have a dog. The trouble with my dog Smokey, was that he would eat the dinner if you turned your back for two minutes. He once lifted a whole roast chicken off the Sunday lunchtime table and took it into the garden. And then it came back and we couldn't find the chicken. And he came back and he did that thing that dogs do, which is he would sit with a very, very straight face as if nothing had happened, which always used to make me laugh. The joke in the house was that I was like Smokey. In other words, I was long. He was a sort of lurcherish kind of thing. He was actually a rescue dog. My friend from Chile and when she first saw him said, oh, he's a street dog. Which I was quite. I was more than quite offended by. But it's true, he was a mongrel. And we had a Tibetan terrier called Nell, who was also black and white, and they were like lady. And the only black and white. And the only funny thing that Smokey ever did was that if you played the chord of C on the piano, he would howl in the chord of C, which I know you had to be there, but it was really, really funny. The other funny thing he did, and I'm going to get into trouble for this, but I'm going to go ahead, is that if you gave him a wine gum, he loved. Guess what? He loved a wine gum. But it meant that he had to snap up his jaws in order to get. Because, you know, they're bouncy and dogs aren't used to bouncy food. And my daughter used to howl with laughter. Now we're both in trouble, but she would beg me to stop because she thought it was wrong. I don't know whether it's wrong to give a dog a wine gum. It's almost certainly officially, technically, you know, dietarily Wrong. But is it really wrong? I don't know. Where do you stand? The other impressive thing about Smokey was that he could catch a Frisbee in midair and hang there like Cristiano Ronaldo. And also he was a festival of bad character. He was terrified of his own kind and would take a two mile detour to get away from any dog that resembled him in terms of size. But if there was a small dog, he would howl and bully and become unbearably aggressive. So he'd go missing if there was anything that equaled him. But he was a good dog and I miss him. It's now time for our I'm with the Band feature, which is where we invite people to send in the name, preferably embarrassing name of their early band as teenagers and some embarrassing, preferably lyrics from one of their signature tunes. And we've had lots of responses. And one here from Kings Mountain, North Carolina, and it's from Kim. And in the 90s, says Kim, I played drums in an arty punk band called Tex Svengali. And while most probably wouldn't call this one of our signature songs, I always loved these lyrics to the song Rhino Stand. And the lyrics are, I don't think I like humans no more. They either make me mad or bored, only happy when they're causing problems. I'm embarrassed to be one of them, which I think he did well to send it to us. Kim. I think they're great lyrics and everyone can identify. And they rhyme, kind of. No, they rhyme. They really rhyme. To rhyme problems with one of them is exemplary. Thank you for that. If you have any preferably embarrassing lyrics from your early band before you were 27, then we'd love to hear them. And I will read them out live on air on your behalf. And that's the end of this week's I'm with the Band. This week's playlist is called Instead of School. And the reason it's called Instead of School is because I have a friend called Carl Johnson who plays blues guitar. And he always used to say that playing blues guitar was what he did instead of his O levels, which always used to make me laugh. And for those of you who don't know what O levels are, they're what GCSEs used to be before they became GCSEs anyway. So this is called Instead of School in honor of Carl. It starts with something that I know Carl would approve of, and it's called I'm Tore Down T O R E, which is an Expression I really like. I've only ever heard it once before, and that's a Van Morrison song that many people will be familiar with called Tore Down a la Rambo, meaning the French poet. It's just a little bit of ancient jive talk that I. I like ancient jive talk, particularly when it's been laundered through irony and made it into the modern world, as you probably are familiar with. So that's the first track. And the second track is by another favorite artist called Dr. John, the Night Tripper. And it's called Right Place, Wrong Time, and I like it a lot. And then there's I Can Tina Turner with a great song called Nut Bush City Limits, which a lot of you, everyone over, I don't know, 30 will have heard, but it really swings. And then another band that I thought I discovered and then realized that they were internationally famous was Elastica. I got to them, you know, this century, which is a little late. And this is a track called Stutter. I love the lyrics. I like Elastica lyrics. They're very cool. No need to whine, boy Like a wind up toy you stutter at my feet and it's never the time Boy, you've had too much wine to stumble up my street Is there something you lack when I'm flat on my back? Is there something that I can do for you? It's always something you hate or it's something you ate Tell me, is it the way that I touch you? Have you found a new mate? Is she really great? Is it just that I'm much too much for you? These are refreshing lyrics. The next track is from Kelly Rowland and it's a song called Daylight, which I thought was unique to her. But then I discovered that Bobby Womack does a version and it features Travis McCoy. And it's about going out late, staying out all night and coming home when everyone else is going to work. We all know about that. And then David Bowie with Suffragette City, with very mysterious lyrics, but just a great driving tune. I know that Carl will disapprove of half of that list, but what can I do? He's just got to get out more. This episode's book is called the Idiot by Elif Batuman. Again, you don't have to remember the title. It will be in the show notes and I enjoyed it very much. Elif Batcheman has a habit of calling her books the same name as novels by Dostoevsky, one of which is the Idiot and the other is the Possessed, which amuses me and which will amuse you if you read the book. I really like the book. It's funny and romantic in a. An odd way. And I'm going to read a little bit. Ivan called at 10 that night. Where are you? I asked. I'm outside your house, said Ivan. I looked out the window. He was standing under a street light at one of the emergency telephones. Those phones were a direct line to campus police. They didn't even have number pads. I had no idea how he had used one to reach my room. I went downstairs. He seemed different from usual, more restless. I think we need to get a drink, he said. He had said before that he thought drinking would help me. He said it would help with talking. This obsession with drinking was one of the things that had most surprised me about college. I had always looked down on alcohol because my parents liked to drink at dinner, and it always made them more annoying. I had known that alcohol was supposed to be a big part of college life and that some people would really care about it, but I hadn't realized it would be basically everyone except the most humorless or childish people, and also some people who were religious. There didn't seem to be any way of not drinking without it being a statement. Fine, I said. Let's get a drink. Ivan took me to an upscale beer garden twinkling with white Christmas lights. The bouncer asked for our IDs. Ivan didn't seem to understand at first why we weren't being allowed in. He seemed to think we were somehow being discriminated against. I'm not 21, I told him. That's the reason? He asked. That's it, pal, said the bouncer. We walked 20 minutes farther from campus to a crowded bar in a basement, where we came up against a warm wall of cigarette smoke, beery exhalations, and some kind of vaporous sawdust. Ivan found a table where people seemed to be thinking about leaving, a high table with stools, and loomed over them until they got up. You can wait here, he said. What do you want? I don't know, I said. Ivan looked at me for a moment and then went to the bar. All around people were shouting, wearing T shirts. Their backs seemed more numerous than their faces. I saw Ivan leaning over the bar and talking to the bartender, who had a pixie cut, laughing eyes and dimples, though her mouth wasn't smiling. Ivan came back with two pint glasses of beer and handed me the paler one. The glass was heavy in my hand. It felt expensive and adult. I didn't understand why we had to be there in that place. At the same time, there was nowhere in the world that I would rather have been. I thought about what a special, unusual person Ivan was, how much more present and alive than other people, how he said and thought things that, no, nobody else said or thought, and how ready he was to walk around with me for hours. All I had to do was write him an email and then he walked around with me all day long. Who else in the world would do that? Health, Ivan said in Russian, and we clinked glasses. The beer was cold and not especially unpleasant, but I couldn't tell what the point of it was. Like the iced coffee, it was at once watery and bitter. Apparently that was desirable. Is it okay? Ivan asked. I'm not sure, I said. He picked up my glass and took a sip. I looked at him closely. It's beer, he said, shrugging. Try this one. He pushed his glass towards me. I tried it. It tasted extremely similar to mine. Do you like mine better? He asked. I shook my head. We traded back our glasses. I wasn't sure I would be able to finish the beer. Swallowing became increasingly difficult. I thought I could feel my body swaying ever so slightly on the high bar stool. I didn't find that talking was any easier. All around us, people were laughing and roaring so loudly that we had to lean in close and shout past each other's ears. Lingo by the Cranberries was playing in the background. You've got me wrapped around your finger, the singer warbled over and over in a girly, excessively beautiful voice. It felt ominous to me, the aestheticized girliness, infatuation and weakness. Do you like the Cranberries? Ivan asked. I don't really like this song, I said. Do you? I like it. He was pulling apart and counting a wad of fives and singles. I have enough money for two more each. I realized he meant two more beers. My heart sank. I had thought getting a drink meant you only had to have one. You have just been listening to Bill Nigel in Ill Advised by Bill NYC and we hope you've enjoyed it. Please keep your questions coming. Not that we're short of questions, I assure you, but it's always nice to have fresh data. You can send them in via our Instagram, which is ill advised by Bill Nye. We look forward to hearing from you and you know, take it easy wherever you go. Oh, and whatever else you forget, don't forget to disco. Ill Advised by Bill Nigh is produced by Chiara Gregori, actually Kiera Gregory and Alice Williams and the assistant producer is Angelique Somers, which is pronounced Somers, and it's an ipod. Studio production. ACAST powers the world's best podcasts. Here's a show that we recommend.

D (28:54)

Welcome back to two Judgy Girls. It's Mary from the Bay, and it's Courtney from la. Every week, we're talking about the only things that truly matter. Bravo, pop culture, reality tv, and of course, our very own chaotic lives. If there's a feud, a scandal, or messy drama, we've got thoughts. Lots of them. We break down all the episode like it's our job. Because honestly, it kind of is. From Beverly Hills to New York summer house to Southern Charm, if they filmed it, you better believe we're gonna talk about it. Expect hot takes, unfiltered opinions, and a lot of laughter. We're like your best friends who never stop talking about tv. So pour yourself a something strong, maybe a teeny or a big cup of coffee, and join us every week for two Judgy Girls. Because being judgy has never been this fun.

B (29:43)

ACAST helps creators launch, grow, and monetize their podcasts everywhere. Acast. Com.