Oh I remember now, I was gonna blog about...

my graduation! Whoop! (Well it was a week or two ago, cut me some slack). To be honest I wasn't really looking forward to graduation as a) it signaled the end of university for good and b) dressing smart and standing around awkwardly? Gah! But I guess it all turned out okay in the end and was a nice enough day. Well I got to see lovely people again and have my last student drunken evening afterwards.Look its me getting graduated! Exciting and shaky! Although I'm getting a head of myself here. So yes that silly cloak and hat, what an odd set of clothes, thirty seven quid for the excitement of wearing it (for a few hours, I could have paid more and hired it for a week, imagine someone going into a club tarted all up with it on). There's four arm holes in the cloak, which was very exciting and confusing (no put your arms down the hole I was told, but I had down the hole, it was confusing, a minefield and frustrating to see me peers putting their arms in fine, well they got a higher degree classification, so it all makes sense, bigger brains). Look there's me all smartly dressed with my piece of paper that cost £3,600, bargain! (Thanks Tony Blair).

Well before the exciting ceremony when we were told what we'd have to do the Star Wars mentions came thick and fast. I was told it was like a Jedi cloak, that we could just pull out lightsabres, my Star Wars geek brain was exploding with creativity! AM I JEDI? Then I was told the actual ceremony was like the end of Star Wars Episode 4: A New Hope when Han and Luke (but not chewie) collect their medals from Leia. Would R2-D2 make it to my graduation, would chewie get his degree?I got asked how does the music go in that scene, and I did a rousing version (ba-de-da, de da da...) while queuing up, it was stuck in my head! (Although I was subsequently given a tune which I was told would eradicate any tune that's stuck in your head, the theme tune to Animal hospital, it ruddy works!)

Although once I got in the whole thing felt like wedding, walk down the aisle with the person who comes closest to me alphabetically, how romantic. Wouldn't marry them. So I shook hands with the Chancellor, (of the university, not of the exchequer, sadly I'd love to shake that darling hand) a man that's the chairman of Reading football club (did I know this before hand, did I fuck). His name is John Madjeski and is like a hero of Reading, apparently. Although I wanted to shake hands with the vice chancellor instead as he looks like Kilroy (he could be the real Kilroy for all we know, what's Kilroy done recently, gone into hiding and become Vice-Chancellor of the University of Reading? probably). Look for yourself here, it's ruddy Robert Kilroy Silk.

And that was my graduation, over before it began, I'm sure there's more I could say (we threw our hats in the air, how cliche) but as I'm blogging this nearly two weeks later my memory is little fuzzy. I've only just remembered I have a blog. Toodles!

This week I've...

...made to think I'm a horrible person for steeling a pink balloon from a children's party, apparently 'I'm not a child', shit that hurts. I've realised not to select Kim Wilde's Kids in America on those dance machine things, unless I want to lose my legs. I convinced a friend that the reason Amy Whinehouse is in rehab (oh no, no, no) was that she was addicted to calpol. I got confused when our quiz team put down 380 as the answer to the question I thought was how many games does a championship team play in a season "wot they play 2 games in 1 day?", turns out the question was how many games are played in a championship season. I've realised that I'm just not competitive in the slightest, failing to give a shit that I was coming last in some playstation games. I was on a peaceful protest against the violence of some fox beating the crap out of a polar bear. I thought about making some games for uncompetitive people, stuff like tea party the video game where you have to pass over all manners of foods to your companion and have a nice virtual conversation, sounds fun. Life is too short to be competitive at video games, at least I'm reliably informed life is too short, but this month has been quite slow for me. My first week back (of my third and eek final year at uni) has been worrying laid back (I do enough to get by it seems, gah!), so I guess I best put the pedal to the metal and put my gear up a stick and other car based metaphors that I'm failing to write. I need to shut up and drive.

This clip from the movie Walk Hard that comes out this month amuses me, it appeared in front of St Trinians and was more amusing, witty, better shot and edited than that whole film, maybe it'll amuse you too, or maybe not. Who am I to tell you that your comedy tastes are wrong.Although I can tell you that the live episode of 2 pints of larger which is supposed to air tonight (on BBC3 home of family guy and umm.... some other show that might be any good, I forget now) is defiantly not funny, and I say that without it even being screened live yet. What's the point of it being live anyway (other than I assume a thrill for the 'actors'), as many, many, many DVD packages have demonstrated (and Anne Robinson BBC1 shows), out takes aren't funny. Ha-Ha-Ha, he fluffed a line! ROFLAMO.

Ummmm... I've forgotten my line on how to finish this blog so umm..... bye! Oh I've remembered now, I should end with Rihanna's Shut up and drive, as I name checked it in the blog! Oh yesh, that's what the masses are demanding. On seconds thoughts, maybe not, turns out the song is about sex and not driving as I initially thought. God, I had metaphors about driving earlier in my blog today, could they be interpreted as being about sex? Oh noes!

2007 hey?

Seems the popular media dictates that some kind of retrospective is necessary at this time of year, well 2007 hey? There was some highs, some lows and some indifferences. I thought about writing about my favourite stuff of the year, but then I couldn't be bothered, I thought about looking over my life the past year and summing up some highs and lows and couldn't be bothered mainly as I can't remember what I did this year (I think if memory serves me right I released a charity single which was Christmas number one, it was entitled 'When you believe') I thought about making some new years resolutions but sadly I can't be bothered, sadly guys and gals I'm just to shattered from the sales to blog anything of note. Look at the sail I saw. So tall, it tired me out.Geddit? Sales? Sails? Yeah. Sorry that's pretty poor, maybe I'll make amends by doing some kind of a list.

TeeVee I've enjoyed this year: Doctor Who, Flight of the Conchords, Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe, Battlestar Galactica, The Office (US), Heroes, Never Mind the Buzzcocks. Yeah those shows have been good, the bestestest ones of the year, they've certainly all been vastly superior to the latest season of 24. Ugh.

Filums I've enjoyed this year: Hot Fuzz, Run Fatboy Run, Superbad, Knocked Up, Bourne Ultimatum, Little Miss Sunshine, Stardust, Ratatouille, Blades of Glory. I've liked the comedy films this year, admittedly some of the films listed aren't amazing, but I've enjoyed them, and they've been better than Pirates 3. Ugh.

Music I've enjoyed this year: Scooch. Enough said.

Life that I've enjoyed this year: hanging out with all the lovely peeps I'm fortunate to know. Yeah! Peeps!

New years resolutions for 2008: Follow up my Christmas number one hit 'When you Believe' under my alias of Leon Jackson with a fantastic album which disses Rhydian for being a ginger traitor for dying his fair, apparently he'll go back to ginger when it is back in fashion, fool, it is always in fashion. Said Leon Jackson.

Here's to 2008, the year I stop being a student scum and become a dole scum. Ugh.The sign fell off my forehead just a second after the photo was taken. Ugh.

Suck my days...

Hello there, it's another one of my weekly catch up blog posts where I just randomly list some stuff that happened to me this week keeping it short and sometimes ambiguous in a hope to make it sound much more interesting than it might not already be. Wahee!

This week I laughed myself silly at Matt Lucas and David Walliams on Johnathon Ross and then wept myself silly knowing they're still insisting on producing that Little Britain crap, I saw Karl Kennedy of Neighbours fame at the Student's Union which (let's not pretend it sophisticated in any way) left me with a stupid grin on my face, although a man of Dr. K's age signing Ruby (Roo-Bee, Roo-Bee, Roo-Bee) is a little surreal a sight. I worked until 4:30 in the morning, a disappointingly student achievement, we're supposed to work all night us creatures, well maybe another time soon, like maybe tonight. I also got confused about male toilet conventions, I know we don't chat in the loos like the ladies or go to the loos in pairs, but when a lecturer starts talking to me in the loos (whilst washing the hands, not whilst pointing the pink pistols at the porcelain firing targets) I felt like a rude dick when I wasn't being that chatty, is it allowed by social conventions to chat in the loos? I just don't know. Admittedly I tried it once when a bit wankered, the old toilet chat, but couldn't hear my friend over the hand dryer. Actually maybe I've chatted in the loo twice, some guy in a Camden Weatherspoons called me a cunt, happy days (it was in a friendly way I must stress).

I think that's all I've got share with you for this week, I can't believe I said this blog would be ambiguous, it's not that ambiguous sadly, maybe next week it'll be. To conclude for any of you lovely readers who aren't my facebook friends and won't have seen my new look, here is my new gangster look, enjoy!Word to your mothers if you have lesbian parents.

Student D.I.Y.

I am a student on a bitching coursework heavy based degree, and after a day of heavy coursework bitching I decided to relax and do as many of my forefathers have done, and do the do it yourself. I decided I needed to fix my chest of drawers drawer as the handle snapped off and the general drawer was out of shape. Never fear super glue brought for Warhammer purposes (not mine I must stress) did the job for the fixing the handle, even if I decided also to give my pinky a gluey glow. Alas I had no hammers to put the drawer back into shape, but I had text books read at 6:30 AM for a presentation the same day! Swish!

Next was to fix my bedroom door handle, which as you can see I fixed with an elegant solution.Masking tape with swear words on. Well there was no screwdriver to be found sadly in the house.

Now who wants me to come round their house and practise my student D.I.Y. ways on your house? My rates are cheap, I am a student.

I touched up Martha Jone's arse today

She didn't seem to mind too much. Okay it's only a cardboard cut-out in Forbidden Planet (maybe one day I'll get to touch a real ladies bottom), in London, I went else where in London too. To the bfi went I (and a lady friend), for an evening (well an hour and a half) of Robert Webb, David Mitchell, those writers of Peep Show Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong, the producer Phil Clarke and Sam Delaney a presenter I only recognise from shit Telly talking about one of the best shows on the tellybox, Peep Show! The evening had the six men talking about the show (as you would expect) showing video clips including some clips that inspired them such as that Woody Allen chap from a film I gather is rather funny, and a clip from 'Being Caprice' which I gather isn't funny, it's rather dire and boring, but was shot in POV style so could be said to inspire the Peep Show. Praise be if someone as bland as Caprice inspired something so inspired as Peep Show. Huzaah!

They also showed the never seen before Pilot for Peep Show (this should be on DVD! Why is it not on DVD!?!) which was interesting viewing, alot of gags in the pilot could be found in the first series, such as Jeremy's interview with JLB Credit (I'm being nerdy here folks, forgive me, randomness will resume by the end of this blog). What was different was the use of a lot of incidental music which ruined the show, alot of Jez and Mark watching TV which added little to the show and some incredibly disorientating camera work which, whilst more true to the POV format, didn't quite work, thank fuck for some artistic license. All in all it was a lovely evening, some discussion of series 5 (they're writing it!), brief discussion of the america version (they're writing it!), and general discussion of the show in general (they wrote it). Perfect for a Peep Show geek.Look I've got the new DVD as well as some Battlestar Galactica Mock-lego toys. I'm sad. But not as sad as the 'journalist' who wrote this tripe headline in popular London toilet paper the 'London Lite' in regards to everyone's favourite Rihanna.You see what they did there? Ugh.

Am I an evil brother?

My sister wanted me to buy her alcohol what with her being under the age of eighteen and her going to a gig and apparently requiring to alcobooze to enjoy the music. Fortuantly I brainwaved a bill for my services (Well it was more me cheekily pocketing the change, she did say she'd buy me a magazine to bribe me, and nerd magazine aren't cheap like heat).

1 X Walk to Shop = £1 (It is a ten minute walk there)
1 X Stimulating conversation = £1 (We talked about trees)
1 X Getting ID out for the lovely cashier = £1 (I loves the look people have when they look at ID trying to work out age, sometimes I think they just don't want to look stupid staring at it for ages)
1 X Tip = £1 (Remember the tip!)
_________________________________
Total Earnings = £4.

Not bad for half an hours work. I should feel bad for ripping off my sister.

Damm I forgot to charge her VAT!

Recently I've been...

...not really doing much to be fair. I experimented with a new chav look which I think I might not quite be able to pull off. But bless me, I do try my best.Yeah dudes.

I was so bored yesterday I went out to Tesco, can you believe they're making a mess of the Crawley Tescos to add all sorts of stuff like an upstairs! The baked beans just kept moving! Agony! People need their baked beans. And damm those evil Tesco bastards for moving the baked beans around the place. Misleading the baked bean buying peope of Crawley.

I've been continuing with my weekly confidence shattering driving lessons fun, who knows, maybe I'll be a driver soon, most of the time during my two hour fun duration period I reach a absolute confidence shattering cock up about an hour in and just want to quit. I'm not the most enjoyable person to teach to drive.

I'm thinking of reading to aleviate my bordem, this book looks fun.An amazon reader review says 'it should make an interesting conversation piece'. I can imagine sticking a copy out on my coffee and scaring visitors.

To conclude Flight of the Conchords (like a New Zealand Mighty Boosh) continue to amuse me too much, particularly this song of theirs, maybe you'll like it.

Wot I as been upto

Clapham Junction is what I've been upto. Yawn another post where some weirdo proclaims his love for a train station. Big shitting deal. Move on. Well I made two 'Via Clapham Junction dream trips' this week. Thats the justification for the love. Lovification.Woof, what a surname.

I say 'another post where some weirdo proclaims his love for a train station' like I'm not alone in a strong plutonic love for Clapham Junction.

Via Clapham Junction Dream Trip Number One.

I went down to Dorset (via Clapham Junction) for a camping trip in a friends garden, the camping in the garden didn't really agree with me, but I had fun, checking out the sites of Weymouth and Bournemouth (they have beaches biatches), seeing the simpsons movie again this time stone faced but not wanting to slag it off because everyone else seems to like it! I enjoyed busting some moves on a dance machine (Javine, my favourite), I enjoyed some confusion at having a suprise birthday party about 11 days early, so unclued was I, I just was an infuriating guest and not able to understand subtle hints for me to fuck off out of the room. Woe is me. And I got buried in sand in Bournemouth not once, but twice, here is a photo of me buried the first time. I'm a pretty mermaid!I went on some ride that went upside down that made me question weather I liked rides like that, I thought as I could cope when rollercoasters went upside down sometimes I could cope with this ride that span upside down. I just closed my eyes half way through and clutched onto the metal bar for dear life.Can you see the ginger hair flying in the pic? Spot the ginge, the books will be bigger than Where's wally. Love them books, good stories. And that was via Clapham Junction dream trip number one, now onto...


Via Clapham Junction Dream Trip Number Two.

I went to the final recording of That Mitchell and Webb Look Series 2 (Really? Have to wait till February for it to air on the telly? What an outrage!). I mostly just wanted to go so I could have my photo taken with the Dalek thats at the BBC, which I did.I wanted to get a bit more intimate, but when the man told me not too touch it, I slightly held back my sexual urges for the dalek.Still it looks like me and the Dalek were making out, so it's all good.

As for the comedy, it was funny, well most of it. The warm up man failed to generate any real wit, I'm not that fussy, but someone with enthusiasm wouldn't go a miss would it, not some guy with some 'ironic dark material' like Ricky Gervias Ironic racist material. Still Mitchells and Webbs, some good stuff, Dan's gone into enough detail for me not to repeat what he's said, or I could copy and paste what he has said. That's lazy, but I am a lazy blogger nowadays. Zombie Big Brother parody, not funny, Numberwang and parodies of other teevee shows, funny. And on the plus, I didn't need a wee during the show despite having three half litre bottles of coke at my disposal. It's all gravy. No, not coca-cola with Gravy, that wouldn't work. And I got to pass through Clapham Junction earning a tedious enough link for both of these blog details of these escapades. Wahey!

Now to try and teniously link my holiday to Portugal in a few days time with Clapham Junction, I might fail.

Portugues people have visited Clapham Junction, like me.

Gingerphobia is rife in my family!

You'd think having a ginger aunt, and a great grandfather who was ginger (he apparently would tell people he was ginger) would mean I had a pretty tolerant family. But sadly my sister insists on ginger segregation with this present from her recent holiday.Ginger chocolates for a ginger man? Outrageous.

But how do they taste you ask? Well in an anology for ginger people, they initially seem like a good idea, but become bland, dull, annoying and you realise they just don't work!

----------------
Now playing: Jarvis Cocker - Running The World
via FoxyTunes

Sigh, I wish Gingers were running the world.

It's just as well I amuse myself

Whilst getting changed today out of work clothes I sang myself a little song, based on the frosties ad where some annoying shit sings "they're going taste great" I sang "I'm gonna get changed". This amused me far too much than it should have done. If you don't know of the frosties advert I talk of (don't pretend silly billys!) then this youtube clip might help.

Hey, what's happening dudes

Well I aint blogged since the 29th of June, so no doubt you're after some kind of explanation, after all, as all mathematicans can tell you that is a 92 day long gap. Well Mathematicans and non-mathematicans I've been moooooving! From one student house to another, and spending time at new student house for a week to make sure everything is all gravy. It's not all quite gravy, the freezer door is quite keen of falling of the hinges, and my bed has a good old dent in it, but other than that, it's all good my friends, I'm back home in West Side Sussex, maxing out the bandwith on the parents intertune connection, but now I want to take a moment of your time (if you want, it's optional) to show you some photo arousements of my last week of house moving. Don't worry, there's only four photos.Look it's my new room, bit smaller than last time, and left with a slightly girly touch to it (it had pink curtains and the smell of popery, but my man stench soon got rid of that, though I still love the pink curtains). The room looked a bit dire with white walls, but some good typographically spaced posters and it looks alright.Look, after only four days of living in our new student house we already aquired a trolley. Well it was a hand-me-down from a friend who was moving out of the student area. And they are good snack holders at parties.The living room with it's white walls was just looking depressing, so I moved over my art gallery from my old student house, and some hot shot (me) commissioned a frustrated artist (me) to draw a new picture, one of the new student living room. Enjoy, and maybe the gallery will grow and grow and I'll get my own art gallery. One can only hope.But my week ended, and I decided I was bit bored of being in Reading without Interweb, so I came home. On the train, with a suitcase full of crap. My suitcase fucking broke, the handle snapped off half way during my half an hour walk to the train station. Rain started falling two thirds into my walk to the station. Bin men started talking to me at about the same point. "Are you going on holiday" "No, going home from uni" "You've quit uni?" "No, term has ended" A charming conversation transcribed for you.

Going through Clapham Junction (which is claimed to be the busiest railway station in Britain, and even in Europe according to Wikkipedia) from platform 4 to platform 13 wasn't fun lugging the suitcase. It frustrated me, and made me think next time, I should get the bus to the station, and not stuff the suitcase with so much crap, and not break the suitcase. Still I left a nice present for someone on their front garden, a broken handle, fucking annoying that the bin men were compost binmen. Although I'm convinced that Earley is the friendly part of Reading, whilst Clapham is one of the unfriendly parts of London. The photo above is of my broken handle on the train if you're interested. Wish I took a photo of my suitcase handle dumped on someone's lawn, but I didn't want to miss my train.

Was that worth a seven hundred and twenty seven day gap in blog posts? Probably not.

Random Student Evening and TV Geh?

TV Geh? would so be the title of my TV show if people feel they don't have enought choice of shows about telly, what with there being Harry Hill's TV Burp and Charlie Brooker's Screen Wipe.

Anyway onto my first point on my blog minutes, random student evening. It started with me discussing with my friend after watching Bruce Willis on the Daily Show and an advert for the queen (that filum) my potential franchise film, Zombie Diana, my aim for the film series for it to be the most offensive film ever for Daily Mail readers. I would say more, but then I might actually start writing it. Which I probably won't.

Then onto the student union for the quiz, we didn't win, we never win, but it's the taking part that counts. Then onto a student bar in halls with the promise of pound a pints, what with the alcohol froth going out of date during the summer break. I cosumed a couple of pints, and got a delightful history timeline drawn on my arm. Well I got some delightful trigonometry fun drawn on my arm last thursday (SOH CAH TOA in da house), it seems only fair to have history timeline drawn on my arm (1929 Wall Street Crash!), although I wanted better use of me veins as a timeline. But oh well, no need to be picky. Maybe next week I could have a venn diagram on my arm or some science, I'm open to suggestions.

Then off to some chippy for a 99p Pizza, bargain, tiny of course, but 99p? That's so cheap, it's almost exciting. Even if I did pay 30p more for them to hide peperoni under my cheese (under cheese? this is an outrage). Then for some reason it was proposed with have a Doctor Who marathon, all of the second series (that one that David Tennant started in). Great! Well probably, although it beat walking back in the dark through Reading on my own in 2AM fearing the dogging filled park of fundom. I lasted until 7:30 after that Cyberman episode with that guy from Only Fools and Horses that I should have fond affetion for if I bothered to watch Only Fools and Horses (isn't the Green Green Grass just turdily hilarious?). It was my realisation there was seven more episodes to go (I thought six, forgot Mark Gatiss sold episode about TeeeeVeees, but remembered that Peter Kay episode, ugh! Shit). So I went home to bed for a couple of hours of kip to be a woken with a TV Geh?

You know tennis, well the tennis cup this year is being held in Wimbledon. I kid of course, I know of Wimbledon. Well what I loathe more and more on TV is Montages. The montage that started Wimbledon coverage today was just plain non-sensical. Tony Blair, 10 years in office as Prime Minister resigned a day ago or two. Tim Henman knocked out of his 14th wimbledon, but he says he'll be back next year, sure he won't win, but he enjoys it. That Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocell song time to say goodbye. Combine all three things into one montage? Intercut famous quotes of Tony with old footage of Timbo. But... Tim isn't saying goodbye, he'll have a holiday, and be back playing tennis. Tony is saying goodbye for being prime minster for good. Why intercut these two things together in one montage? How does the 'friend of foe' quote from Tony link to Timbo? Tim doesn't have foes, he plays tennis. It's just a nonsensical montage! Tim Henman crashed out of Wimbledon the day after Tony crahsed out of office! I just don't understand it. TV Geh?

Well goodbye, may not be blogging for a week, but I'll be back. Ciao.

Virgin Media want me dead

No, I'm not going to start ranting about the Virgin Media take over of NTL and complain that I'm missing lost or 24 (cos I downloaded them instead on my Virgin Media connection, although I'm still not sure why I bothered downloading the recent series of 24, what a turd), I am (of course) refering to the vans that drive around from Virgin Media. One would assume these vans go around installing lovely Virginny Richard 'Him from Casino Royale' Branson goodness down cable pipes.

What with being a happy go lucky pedestrain with a disregard for Motorists, I get annoyed when I cross a traffic lights and those fecking car wheel lovers try and speed up really quickly to escape having to stop at the lights. Well a week ago (I meant to blog this sooner, but hey, I had more important things to blog like cocks and art) a driver of a virgin media van did this very thing. No real reason to link death and Virgin Media (unless anyone wants to calculate some idea of a man strangling himself with Virgin Media cabling), but it was as a crossed the road after the virgin Media van breaked that I suspected death linkage, for you see this van had the caption "Near Miss" on the side of the van. Near Miss (refering to its lovely and only aspect worth being a Virgin Media customer, on demand service) but more seeming to ring in my mind that the van had just had a near miss in fucking hitting me! And there's another van going around saying "Faster, Faster, Faster" which of course means they want to run pedestrains over.

It's a sick world we live in, more people should be chasing cars (what does that even mean?) than cars chasing men. 'Oh let's have fun, with cars chasing men...'

This week I've...

... been on a party on a boat, been confused that Jack Johnson is the kind of song you use to conclude said party on boat, spent the week trying to think of a dissertation idea then getting inspiration at the last hour through a Charlie Brooker article, been on a bouncy castle, inflatable sumo restled, inflatable gladiator dueled, flung myself at some velcro wall whilst wearing a velcro suit, sung a Britney Spears song at karaoke as a dedication for a friend's birthday, got some fucking spyware on my laptop, almost had a joke engagement, watched the apprentice and wanted to see a penis shaped building on the south bank, watched hot fuzz a few times, cut my nails, but none of this is worth blogging in light of the fact this morning I changed my laptop wallpaper for the first time this year!Yes I know of the print screen button, but I'm being arty.

Karate Report

Last night I went along to Reading University (Don't call it that, it's not it's name, it's the University of Reading!) Bar Quiz and Karate session. We did alright in the quiz, we got full marks on the music round which was all girl groups, being a big fan of them Sugababes and them All Saints (can you believe that some of my later karate sparring partners didn't realise All Saint's had done a cover of Lady Marmalade, they ruddy did you know!) I was able to provide a significant enough contribution which gave us a decent enough score for our team 'You know where you are with a cock'.

But you don't care about that, you want to know about the karate. Well I foolishly said to someone in possesion of the karate book that I wanted to do a Karate duet of Barbie Girl. Then I was put down also for a mystery karate duet with another sparring partner. The Barbie Karate duet never materialised, but as a closing to the karate evening I did the mystery duet with another sparring partner. Turned out to be Oasis and Champagne Supernova, a song I quite like, but I'm only comfortable doing karate when I'm making a tit of myself. I tried to throw a few swear words into the karate battle for my own amusement, but just felt silly, and ended up holding the karate microphone a decent enough distance away from my mouth, so that my fellow karate battler could hold a tune loud enough to go over mine. But that's the thing about karate, there are different options.I may have changed the word Karaoke to Karate for no apparent reason.

Karaoke Fact of the day! Dojo kun is a set of guidelines for karaoker's to follow both in the dojo(a room in which karaoke is taught) and out of the dojo, in a karaoker's everyday life.

I'm such a racist!

Hello blog. Whilst talking to a friend today about their forthcoming holiday to Venice, I'd thought I'd converse about my experience of my day trip there. I could talk about how I was bored by the evening in Venice, how all the shops were really expensive in the square, how we got pointed out which was Elton John's house, how I thought Venice was really beautiful, about how the architecture is really beautiful, about going to McDonalds in Venice, instead...

"It's full of Chinese tourists"
(Smiles all around, me thinking I best clarify myself so it doesn't sound I hate the Chinese, althought I'm not partial to the food)
"We were staying in Verona for a couple of weeks, had a day trip to Venice and I was suprised that there was just loads of Chinese tourist whilst there were none in Verona"

Conversation swiftly changed to talk of Gondolas. I should have talked about them instead.

This is why I should not be allowed to have conversations.

Geh! I want to be mothered

Hello friends, I've just got back from my first exam, and gosh damm it, exams weren't like how they used to be. I want to be mothered. I had to walk to the centre of campus (a good half hour walk) to find where my exam was because they took it down from the uni website saying where they were a few weeks back, and I didn't have the hindsight to look then. Still I had a lovely walk through lovely 'got a fag?' (Yes I do have a gay friend, thanks for asking, but I do not have ownership over him) Reading.

When sat down in the glamarous exam hall (actually glamarous, its a bloody hall, and they've crammed in too many desks, I had to almost climb over the table to get into my chair! I thought I could push the desk slightly forward, but no, that would push into lovely person #1 and I couldn't move the chair back because that would go into lovely person #2), I expected to be told to fill in the front (I'm used to bloody school forcing the number 65217 down my throats again and again, no throat forcing when at uni!), I expect to be told I can have the 10 minutes reading time, I just feel naughty taking a peak at the exam paper when I am actually entitled too. And I want to be told that I can put my pen down at the end of the exam, not to be told to leave quietly. What kind of end is that to an exam?

Needless to say I'm biterly dissapointed with my exam experience, and shall ask the invidulator for a full refund of my exam experience when I sit my last exam tomorrow.

Geh?

Last night I got a text confirming our family holiday plans for August, we're going to Portugal (Same time zone as the UK, no changing watches, wahey! Not that it's much of a chore really). What did I say in a reply to my mum (other than telling her I'd been revising all afternoon, although predictive text annoys me, it thinks I want to tell my mum I've been retiring recently) "Portugal sounds cool" One minute later on MSN I get my sister saying "Bro, you do know that Portugal's hot?"

I do know that Portugal is hot, but I didn't want to text well wicked to my mum, in hindsight I should have texted good, so I didn't sound totally geographically impaired.

Portugal of course has a Mediterranean climate, which I like well know now, thanks to Wikkipedia.

Catch up post

The last couple of days have been quite interesting blog? Want to hear about them? It might be quite long. No? Oh well, scroll down to the end of the blog and look at the pic of my arse and then leave.

Not wishing to start up a theme in my blog posts, but my first point on the agenda is poo. I'm getting the poo in early because it give me plenty of oppurtunity for some creative writing by inserting as many poo puns as possible. Did you know I'm on a graphic design degree of sorts? No I never talk about it, I'm not quite sure why not, maybe there's just not much comedy to be extracted from it. Anyway as part of the design degree of sorts I and someone else was selected (guess I must be pleasing some people of the graphic desing degree of sorts) to do some design work for the Royal Society (which apparently is a big deal, but I'm quite niave of science, and don't really understand science, that's what happens when you have a science teacher of dad). One of the features of the display will be a gut model, which we foolish agreed to be shown, I not quite realising it was 4 valves passing poo (real poo) around through pipes simulating the colon. Apparently at the exhibtion the real thing will only have brown coloured liquid, probably for the best, poo smells folks. Geh! Poo!

I entered the bowles of London (thanks Dan) last night to watch the Mitchell and Webb comdians (who do have some shit on the C.V. people) with their cohorts to record another part of their quite good radio sketch show. It was solid comedy stuff as usual, all the strongest material was on the first night and sadly the quality of the material may have declined a little (Geh!). The heat in studio certainly didn't assist my comedy enjoyment factor. Blasted heat. But I enjoyed seeing the comedy with the Cheryl and Dan and their respective cohorts. The comedy was certainly not of the quality where I can poo puns, but the shit storm on Oxford Street was a bit annoying when walking down it. And I was annoyed in the bowles of me on the bowles of London (Oxford Street) when I couldn't find any good shitting points, I'm not paying to shit, and the one in Virgin was closed, and I just can't work out how the fuck to use those McDonalds taps on Oxford Street. Don't worry, my hands got quite the thorough clean after I had seen the gut model. I'm so sorry that I've now got the delussion in my blog posts that you wanted to hear of my pooing woes.

On Thursday night I might have well shat on the stage at karaoke and would have got a more welcome reception. "But Richard hasn't heard you sing" was enough encouragement I needed to do Karaoke. I decided it would be fucking hilarious to do Avril Lavigne's Sk8er Boi (I almost wrote Sk8er Boil, now imagine the songs, boiling fresh skaters!). I got booed during it, and as not a regular karoke singer I often forget I can't hold a tune, admitedly I was egging on some of the booing, but apparently there was cheering at the end (that I'd finished) and people were singing along to it (why weren't they singing louder over my voice eh?). Video footage may exist of this haunting rendition, my friend's phone was definetly pointed at the stage, and I never quite got confirmation he did record it). No one would want such a video on YouTube anyway. Would hurt their ears.

And now as promised, the photo of my arse, I could explain the context to the photo, but why bother. Poo comes out my arse folks!