Fishy tales

I am prepared to accept that this is probably the last time some of you will venture on here, because I am about to scare you away with some atrocious humour.

It all started, you see, when I found possibly the best ever typo on a friendship tribute website:

You know friendship is true when it continues even after one friend's sole has left this earth.

Typos: not just fun for editors.

The story continues with me feeling Not My Usual Cheery Self for the past few days, a problem compounded when I trotted off to the bathroom today to discover that the lovely new trousers I bought on Monday had a dirty great rip in them across the lower stomach (I don't mean that in a coy way, I do mean literally the lower stomach) and I'd managed to wear them for a full day AND put them back on this morning. Ye gods, what a numpty.

Best Mate decided to rise to the challenge of cheering me from this little mood slump by carrying the fishy amusingness to its farthest possible point. Nor was she flying sole-o (sorry), I decided to throw my lot in too. So please welcome the Best Of Fish (and do feel free to join in if you haven't already left in disgust):

If your pet fish is a fantastic confidante, does that make it the sole of discretion?
If it has a huge family to support, none of whom have jobs, does that make it the sole provider?
If the fish enjoys a spot of karaoke, does that make it a sole singer?
Would its favourite movie character be Han Sole-o?
If you were baptising your fish, would you have to say 'bless my sole'?
In its younger days, when it was the coolest kid on the block, was it a funk sole brother?
Financial difficulties plus incontinence? Poor wee sole.
If he set up a business selling something you couldn't buy elsewhere, would he be the sole trader?

It's all a bit sole-destroying really, isn't it?