Brian Rogers Rogers Rabbits www.sunlive.co.nz

This week I rocked up to the Sin Centre, ripped my clothes off and a dude in a white coat was all over me, like a rash. Now already I can hear you saying that I would be a prime candidate for the Sin Centre. However it turns out, that was a typing error.

I actually went to the Skin Centre, on Cameron Road.
The waiting room was very nice and had the most comfortable seats ever. We scored them nine out of ten. The only let-down was the selection of magazines, which had a strong women/gay interior designer focus. Leaping off the top of the pile was Pippa Middleton on the cover of a woman's weakly.

And when I say leaping, certain parts of Pippa were taking on three dimensional behaviours as she put the magazine cover through contortions that the hard working blokes at the Kawerau paper mill never envisaged for their 170gsm glossy stock.

Pippa must have been there for a skin check as well, as she was showing vast amounts of it. We've already given Pippa a fairly thorough checking out in the last year, so I'd be surprised if there was anything untoward about her skin surfaces that the rest of the world hasn't already documented.

The good doctor went over my outsides checking for imperfections. Hard to believe I know, but, yes, we all have flaws. He remarked that I had a large and varied collection of fine old moles. At this stage I thought he should stop reading my old address book.

They might be old but it would be going a bit far to call all of them moles. Lovely old tarts aging gracefully, maybe, but moles is probably a bit derogatory.

By now most of their numbers will have changed, a lot of them are overseas, some are still in the asylum and a few have gone lesbian.
Then I realised he was talking about spots on my back. Fortunately he finished his check and I got my gear back on quick, before his fascination with my mole collection made me worthy of being skinned, stitched and bound – and turned into a reference book. Probably called ‘Skinned Rabbit'.

They did find a couple of items for further investigation. One was a small rash on a leg that I probably caught from the Sin Centre.
Then they photographed a gnarly thing that looked like a map of Alaska. On close up inspection, you could see ice, trees and a few angry bears ripping the head off Sarah Palin.

They'll be keeping an eye on that one, and if it starts changing – for example, if it starts looking like Australia, it'll be time for action. Fair dinkum. They'll know it needs treatment when they can see little idiots with corks around their hats standing around a barbie with shrimps on it and some nearer the side of the deck drinking Fosters and trying to push Pauline Hansen off the edge.

I recommend y'all get a once-over regularly. It's worthwhile peace of mind to know your outer layer isn't harbouring anything nasty. Tauranga's levels of damaging sun rays are amongst the highest in the world and with the region's love of the outdoors and a wonderful climate, we have a high rate of skin cancers that claim too many good people.

We probably all know someone lost through this. Yet it's easy and quick to have a regular check. Keep yourselves safe, people. It's worth it, if only to browse the magazine covers.

Meanwhile this week, we've had some smouldering criticism from smokers, as expected, following our plan to have them registered as sickos, banned from the free health system and generally treated like the second rate lepers that they are. Check out some of the nicotine-induced rantings in this week's letters and also in the comments on SunLive.

One smoker, in complete denial, suggests we make up the figures on dead smokers! Yeah right, me and all the doctors in the world sat around having a bit of a laugh and decided it would be really funny to tell the world a huge porkie that smoking is dangerous...
It would be a lot easier if they just gave up, then we wouldn't have to have this discussion. Find something else to do with your hands. Take up drumming. Learn the poi dance. Get a cat. Do Sudoku...

Super size Sudoku

We've had a complaint about the size of our Sudoku, which as I explained in a previous column, we suspect is a small Japanese car. I have no idea why so many of you think we need a Sudoku – the Mitsubishis, Nissans and the Ford are going just fine.
But we try to keep everyone happy and therefore are interested to hear your feedback on our Sudoku, although I wouldn't be surprised if you say it doesn't have enough leg room.

Peter Wakelin says he needs it bigger, so there's more space to make fairly complicated mathematical notes. (I think he should just get a roof rack for it.)

Peter went to quite a lot of trouble to point out examples of superior Sudokus, such as the one in the Listener. (They probably bought the luxury version with leather). We suspect Peter is not alone, so we've upgraded the size of the squares of the Sudoku, to bring you the stretched limo edition. That way you can fit in all sorts of confounding mathematical gymnastics. If that doesn't work, forget it and take up smoking.

Parting shot:

There isn't much hope for the planet when you see these Twitter postings. From people who didn't know the Titanic was real.
http://www.sadanduseless.com/2012/04/you-cant-fix-stupid/