You’re in luck, Richard Ayoade is already in a calendar!
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This is so perfect! I couldn’t decide whether to get my mechanics a subscription to Ms. Magazine or the Blu Ray edition of Fried Green Tomatoes. Now I don’t have to choose, I’ll just get them all this perfect tire-themed, empowered calendar! 
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I find the whole genre tired
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mmmm, Elba.
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Rule 34.
You might be surprised.
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Or horrified.
Or nauseated.
Or aroused.
Or all of the above (you freak).
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Who is this Yoko Ono person of whom you speak?
{{observes horde of rabid boomers coming to draw and quarter me}}
Oh…that Yoko Ono!
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Tread lightly lest your puns get punctured.
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Puns, alliteration, naked comedy…
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She’s awesome! I’d rather listen to Yoko Ono’s music than that of The Beatles. >ducks<
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“Men getting their scarves and ties tugged” is another good theme.
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I’ll have the Idris Elba/Jeremy Brett sandwich with a Doc Holiday chaser, please.
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When are you going to take a break again?
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When the conversation gets tired or participants need to be rotated. I’m sure we can iron out the details, no need to lug out grievances with overinflated expectations.
Edit
Ima gonna get flattened for that one, aren’t I? Falcor, no pressure, but when you eat me can you be sure to let me come 'round again? Spare me from the indignities of bald faced banning?
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Try not to overrate the shocks and leaf the suspension at the door.
Falcor, I think we can both agree that @japhroaig is a bad influence on me and I’ll be a model Mutant when you banish him to the Nothing*.
*Not really, don’t banish @japhroaig. I’ll behave.
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I have never seen anyone policing anyone else’s personal preferences when they find person X attractive. Actually it seems to me that people are more shamed for not finding person X attractive. Like they are being not enlightened or something - or maybe they are not being manly or womanly enough or something - depending on who person X is and who is doing the shaming.
Tread lightly, Japh.
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Where in the world do you live?
I still amusedly remember my first major crush. Truly the love that daren’t speak its name, wild horses couldn’t have forced me to confess my passion (why would they try to do that anyway?), but anyone who spent more than fifteen minutes in a room with she and I would have easily realized that I was completely devoted to her. My longtime best friend, realizing that something should be said, eventually opined, “I guess she’d look all right, if she lost some weight.”
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