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Day Tripper

Another day, another evening before a day trip! Yessss!

I won't deny, I'm a big fan of the day trip, and we all know it. I'm hoping to get a pen, or at the very least a pencil for my troubles tomorrow, as me and Emily are heading off to Chatsworth House. I've already prepared the CD, and we have a whopping great FOUR CDs, that's right, and that's lucky because last time me and Emily went on a day trip to Hampton Court palace we got lost whereupon I proclaimed 'it's ok, we've got another CD here!' - phew thank god for that!

Unfortunately, God doesn't appear to be smiling on me because the weather forecast is a bit rainy tomorrow, but although the rain may dampen our jackets, it most certainly will not dampen my spirits, or my ability to buy pens, so there!!!! You've got to stick it God, make sure he gets the message that you don't care what he's going to do just to spite him!

I'm the queen of coincidence, and this means nothing to me. This probably means nothing to you either (apart from you), but I don't care what this means to you (only to you). Ha!

Exciting news for you folks - another day trip planned on Saturday! Yes, that's right, one week, TWO new pens!!! It just doesn't get any more exciting than this, and because of that, I won't tell you the details of that day trip just now, it'll only spoil the suspense for you, let's just say that it involves a large castle, and I do like those indeed.

In other news, although I haven't stepped out of the house today, I've managed to avoid any supermassive black holes that are meandering around the Oldbury area, and for that we can all be truly grateful, but I have been told to watch out for Spon Lane and Farm Road, I think that might just be a general life lesson for us all though! Spoon Spon, Broom Brom. Let my road to the top of the charts begin with that phrase, you heard it here first.

Anyway, before this blog lives up to its name just a little bit too much, I shall sign off now, see you on the other side of the Peak District.


Voice Control

I have typed over 55,000 words in my temp job this week, just over half of which have probably been 'erm' and 'um', which all have to be typed in minute detail.

I managed to pick up a whopping great 64 minute tape to transcribe, which didn't exactly fill me with heady anticipation, but upon listening to the tape, the very considerate man told the woman not to speak at the same time as him to 'make it easier for the typist' - I love him, he's thought of me when he's doing his job, isn't that nice, it makes mine so much easier.

I've been sitting next to a robot for two days now. The robot wasn't there on Monday and Tuesday, but she is disturbing me now. I don't know about you, but I've always found it common courtesy to smile at least at a person sitting next to you in an office environment, but not the robot, she just types, types, types staring at the computer screen with such intensity as though it's going to reveal an undiscovered Shakespearean sonnet. I wrote "you are a robot" and put it next to her, of course, I wrote it in shorthand, because I'm a coward, I suppose we don't know if she understands shorthand, I don't know if they have that in robot school, but she doesn't look away from the computer anyway.

Tomorrow may or may not be my last day of typing, although it's unbelievably dull, it's gone by quickly, but I can hardly say I'll miss it, or the robot, if I have to leave, I'll miss the money though of course. Some people have been working there for a YEAR. This week has taught me a valuable lesson if nothing else, I can't let this become what I do.

I'd have shot myself by now having to do this, day in, day out for a year - there must be something better, there's your incentive, must try hard to get a job with at least two different functions, so as one does not end shooting oneself through tedium and boredom. And I think that's a lesson we can all appreciate.

Well that's all for now, I've done enough typing for the day, I don't know why I'm volunteering to do extra ;)


It's so naughty that I haven't blogged in almost a month, what kind of behaviour is this for a journalist?

But please be inspired to know that I have at least been writing in some form or another, on the Motley Fool, so you know, from all that I'm just whacked out. Wait a minute, that's no excuse, I take that back. I'm just naughty.

I've been temping for two days and my ears hurt and I'm getting RSI in my foot. Oh well, never mind, at least there's a microwave so I can have hot soup and watch half an hour of either Loose Women or Sixty Minute Makeover - oh the excitement.

I think Hurricane Gustav hit Cardiff this afternoon, just as I was leaving work because my umbrella (I say mine, but I found it somewhere) has finally bitten the dust, the trees outside the office were bent over double and I nearly got blown into the road. Half an hour earlier there'd been glorious sunshine, God is against me today clearly.

I think we can all thank Matt for today's blog, for upon his return I just had to compete really, although his is much better than mine because mine has just been a boring disapassionate list of today's events, which were, all in all, truly unexciting. Oh hang on a minute! I forgot to tell you how they had no minced beef in co-op because they are doing it up, see it's not all dull dull dull in Amyland today.

Anyway I best get off, I have to start some research for more advice for the financial inept, if only I had some for myself.

Ciao chums. xxx


If half of what I say is meaningless, does that make the other half incredibly meaningful?
Well Prudence, I ask you this, dear, don't pass me by.
Now, because I'm so tired, and it's been a long, long, long day I think I will end this blog, otherwise a revolution occuring somewhere between a scale of 1 and 9 might happen.
You don't know how lucky you are, honey pie. You're wild.
Now you've reached the bottom of this blog, perhaps you want to go back to the top.
P.S. - If you can guess the theme of today's blog, I shall give you a piece of candy.
P.P.S - If you've got something to hide, don't speak to me and my simian friend.

I wonder how your engines feel.

A dialogue between myself and the 49 killer ducks at the lake today:

A(standing for me): Mmm, what a lovely day, I have some stale bread here, I think I shall visit the ducks in the park and feed it to them.
D:(standing for any duck, they don't have individual names because they are EVIL): QUACK, bread, bread, bread, bread, bread, bread, bread.
--- 20 minutes later, arriving at the park ---
A: My my, there an awful lot of ducks about today aren't there.
D: QUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK. Bread!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! She's got bread, get the bread, get the bread, get the bread, get the bread. GET. THE. BREAD.
A: Here ducks, have some bread.
D: I want the bread. No I want the bread. Give ME the bread. I am going to peck you. Give me the bread. I want the bread. No, I want the bread!
A: Plenty of bread for everyone.
D: Quack quack quack, let's all descend on the bread lady.
A: Woah, where all the ducks coming from? They're everywhere. Argh. You can have the bread, take the bread, take the bread, just don't hurt me.



"If you've got a bazooka, and people know you've got it ... you're not likely to take it out".

That is a quote I found in this week's Newsweek. I like it - mostly because I like the word bazooka, and also because it could be taken in a number of ways - and you'll know if you're a regular reader about my penchant for euphemisms and innuendo.

Do you know, I've ripped out the quote and I don't even know which story it goes with - that's how reckless I am these days, but I'd like to invite you to make up your own stories, the wilder the better.

The problem I see with the quote is that, if people know you've got a bazooka, yes, it's right that you might not need to take it out, but if you never took it out - would people not forget about the said bazooka, and then one day you'd have to take it out just to remind everyone that you had one, and then all kinds of crazy stuff could go down. Do you have any problems with the quote?

In other questions today, Captain Cook - hero or villian? With that haircut how could he be anything other than a villian? Seriously, there's no excuse for that is there?

You may have read in the previous blog post that I fulfilled my life's ambition by visiting Barry Island, well I was back there again on Thursday - what is it called when you have already fulfilled your life ambition and you go back for more - is it greed or what? Still, I think I'll go back again. I like sand.

Well after today's blogging extravaganza, I believe that both you and I should be thoroughly blogged out.

And that's it for today - come back tomorrow to see if there's anything, although judging from the length of today's you might not want to.

Au revoir. x


It's not very often you can say you've fulfilled your life's ambition, but I managed it yesterday, and at the grand young age of 21 at that, I can retire now.

I am of course referring to finally getting to see Barry Island. Yes that's right folks, don't get jealous now, but I also built a sandcastle there too! Now, the only problem is, what do you do when you've fulfilled your life's ambition - it can only really go downhill from there can't it?

No! The answer is of course... to get a NEW ambition! Yes that's right, pick something else slightly unusual out of the air, and make that the next ambition. Of course the best thing about the Barry Island ambition was that it was always fairly easily achieved, so I think the next one should only be a slight step up from that - I'm thinking perhaps a visit to Weston Super Mare, or somewhere even more exotic like Great Yarmouth or Walton on the Naze. You can keep you Rio carnivals and all that jazz, I'm going to the WOW on the waterfront in Cardiff, because I'm that cool! (Or is it because I'm poor - oh well I'm sure those things go hand in hand anyway...)

So I'll leave you to think about what your life ambition is, and whether you've acheived it or not. And just to note, that visiting Barry Island isn't my main, overaching life ambition, although it does help with that, because my main, overaching life ambition is simply to be happy - and you can't ask for more than that.

Ciao for now folks, I'm off to research more life fulfilling ambitions - I'll keep you posted on the details of that.... if you like...

Peace out :)

Why do i check the prices of storage units in the Sunday Times style magazine?
I don't have enough money to buy stuff to store, let alone £2000 storage units. Has my life been reduced to checking such unnecessary fiddlements?

I think the answer can be found in the following conundrum, which is:
Have i been watching this tennis match for my entire life?
During this tennis match, i managed to walk to Albany Road, look around at and photograph various graffiti art, walk around Woolworths, checking everything in minute detail, walk around Bargain Wonderland, or whatever that's called, walk back, read the entire Sunday Times, cook and eat my dinner, get changed, straighten my hair and upload about 100 photos on flickr. From that estimation, I do indeed conclude I was watching this from the moment of conception. or at least it feels that way.

But having invested so much time, I can't stop now? can I? What if it never ends, and this game will go on and on and on, with the eventual loser being the one that dies first, and the score being 157 games to 156?

New Balls Please.


Did you like what I did there? I had this much anticipation, so I made you wait as well.

Then again, I think pretty much everybody who reads this blog knows the result anyway. In case you're wondering what the result I'm referring to, I am of course talking about my degree result.

Well, I have to say it's a big anti-climax, both for you and for me. I think because I'd already pretty much figured out what I was going to get, actually seeing it on the wall didn't really do much for me. It was interesting to have a nosy at what other people got though. I'm shocked at some people's cleverness, and intrigued by other's apparent lack of it. I myself am sat squarely in the middle, and that's better than being on the wrong side of centre, so I'm content.

I'm not particularly happy with what I got for my dissertation, not sure if it was worth it all in the end. Actually yes it was. Gives you something to talk about I suppose. Never mind. Time to move on. Must try harder and all that jazz. Or not try harder and have a life - it's a tough choice, hard to make, it tends to make itself for you. I will try harder... fancy coming out... er yes OK then.

So that's that. And that's me, the graduate. Fancy that.

Until the next time I feel a ramble coming on - Au revoir.

Oh - I got a 2/1.


So tomorrow is the day that everybody (in JOMEC) has been waiting for - yes degree results day.

The kind people of JOMEC Admin are pinning the names of us all on the wall so we can all have a gawp (and possibly) guffaw at other people's grades. How nice. If I ring them up though to ask about my own degree result, I can't know because of confidentiality. Go figure.

I wasn't nervous about the results after having spent a frantic few minutes calculating the exact scores I needed to get particular grades. I thought that shouldn't be too difficult. Then Julia and Miranda asked me if I was nervous and I don't know if this set the ball rolling or I've just been watching too much Lost but last night I had some pretty disturbing visions in my sleep.

I dreamed that I only got 11% on my magazine module which meant that I got a 2:2, but I told everybody I got a first. There was then some sort of weird postgraduate meeting, although all my friends from home were there - they apparently are now wanting to do postgraduate courses at Cardiff perhaps? - and I had to reveal that I hadn't done very well at all and got shockingly low on the magazine module. To top it off, on the statement of results they had rather lovingly written in big letters: THIS IS THE WORST ANYBODY HAS EVER GOT!!!!. Even the people at JOMEC aren't usually that callous.

So here's hoping that doesn't happen.

Jen pointed out however that if this does happen, I have an incredible gift for telling the future, which is worth more than any degree. And Miranda said that it would be a good time to re-evaluate my life choices. Both good points. Damn then. I can't stop thinking about this big black letters. They will haunt me for a while.

So anyway, I'll let all my fans know the outcome tomorrow, I know you'll be dying to know.

I'm off to have more terrifying dreams about letters.....


To make up for the fact that I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks, today’s blog is extra long for your reading pleasure. And I’ll try to get back to normal as soon as possible. Meanwhile, I take your suggestions for topics to cover. If you want to hear my unique take on anything (and I mean anything) just let me know!

A review of the nice times I’ve had since the last blog post:

Friday 6th June – Saturday 7th June
Possibly one of the longest and best just a little bit longer than 24-hour periods of the year so far. Making the drive from Birmingham and after declaring what only seemed like fifteen minutes in to the journey ‘The Welcome to Wales’ sign is just around the corner, around almost every corner, the jubilance that was felt when the sign really was just around the corner was insurmountable. I’ll try to get it right next time.

Anyway – to get back to the point, me, Emma and Clare packed a lovely picnic and headed off to the equally lovely Roath Park. I did my usual trick of attracting a couple of freaks. We all realised that taking a loaf of bread into the middle of the lake on a pedalo to feed the swans only results in the entire seagull population of Cardiff descending on said vehicle.

Next it was time to test out our newly refurbished garden with a barbeque. We got on the wine pretty early and got my soundtrack CD blasting out. Lovely sausages. Then it was off to Barfly, taking the scenic route (because I forgot my head), where the DJ tormented me by refusing to play Day Tripper until gone 2.30. The cad.
Made it into bed circa 4.15am – and shockingly managed to emerge from the pit before noon, whereupon the remaining sausages had to be finished off. In the midst of all this came the stunning news that even during the ever forceful credit crunch, the food for the entire weekend (including picnic and bbq), pedalo hire, and a night out to Barfly came to the grand total of £14. Get in.

RATING: Splendid.

Monday 9th June

It was time to visit Fun Factory – the Monday night club night at the Union, for my very first (and most probably last) time ever. Apparently it was exceptionally busy and half of JOMEC where there for one last hurrah. It’s nice to know my fans are still following me as I have this effect on lots of places I visit.

RATING: Super.

Friday 13th June

Certainly wasn’t unlucky for me. Another first – The Summer Ball. I found myself prone to several of my moments upon seeing everybody suited and booted. I was overwhelmed by how fantastically organised the event was.... a bar queue rather than the usual scrumhuddle. Well I never. Deluxe Portaloos which included a sink and a framed picture – what that added to the experience I’m not sure. The free dodgems provided a notable incident – tainted by the naughty pushers in (I JUST DON’T GET THE FACE! – P.S. I still don’t). Hannah applauded my driving skills; I have to say I was particularly impressed with the driving while simultaneously bending down to pick up a bracelet manoeuvre. My bag went flying off and I didn’t even notice. What can I say other than I was in the zone...

It was a tad scary in the dancing area, had some scary moments, but Zane Lowe played some classic tunes to make up for it so it was all worth it in the end.
Hannah and Miranda rescued a poor drunkard called Graham outside the Castle Gates. I was proud of my friends.

RATING: Splendiferous.

Saturday 14th June

Feeling like a truly wild child, I took up Hannah’s offer to go to Swansea for a night out. I was tired at first, but ended up having, as Luke might say a ‘quality’ night. More moments ensured, as well as utter disbelief at having a proper sit down curry at 3.30am. I’m still in disbelief over that. There was much dancing to be had, although I won’t pretend to be able to contend with Luke’s Duracell stamina.

RATING: Spectacular.

And lastly...

Yesterday (Tuesday 17th June)

Me and Jen spent the day re-enacting our childhood by crafting and baking fairy cakes. I made an elephant named Amé (naturally) – which didn’t match up to the box but was fun none-the-less. Hours of entertainment provided by the wonders of the £1 bargain from Hypervalue! Here’s a handy tip – Banana Icing isn’t worth the experiment.

Jen gave me her soundtrack CD, which I listened to while writing this blog on my bed, and it is, quite simply, fantastic.

RATING: Spiffing.
The ends of eras are upon us. It’s the end of Uni, the last ever Baitshop on Thursday, and Harold Bishop left neighbours today. Everything’s changing.

Everything changes but you.

Until next time - The End. x.

Going back

I have always been fond of looking at old photos and thinking about the past. I'm not sure why, I think I find it hard to believe that at one point in time I didn't exist. I know that the world was probably a worse off place without me, but judging from old photos, they all look to be having a wail of a time, so maybe I'm wrong on this one.

After looking through all these old photos, I have already earmarked the names Ada, Dinah and Minnie for any future children I may have. I'm not sure what I'll do if I have a boy. It may end up a bit like the Johnny Cash song, with a boy called Minnie. Either way it's gotta be better than naming your kid blanket.

It's fabulous that the fifty+ year old photo albums have been kept so immaculately. I really appreciate the captions. You can almost hear a voice in those words. Then again, the fact that I like words shouldn't really come as a shock to anyone.

Also another revelation from today. I've been telling people I've got Welsh credentials. Turns out I was wrong. I'm more English than anything. Whoops. Don't tell anyone or I might get stoned in the street. Only kidding - I'm hoping after all these years spent there to become naturalised.

I think there's something special about black and white. I might start getting my photos printed in black and white. That, coupled with the pictures of me dressed in Sixties clothing is sure to confuse my kids in 40 years time, and that's all that anyone can hope for.

And lastly a sad note to those people in the photographs who remain unidentified. Who are these people? Why are they unidentified? The older ones are especially intriguing, long forgotten names and faces, left to lie in a box. I should stop all this, depressing thoughts. It's been a happy day.

So here's to Minnie, Ada and Dinah, my ancestors, and my children.

Peace out kids. xxx

The nice part about being a pessimist is that you are constantly being either proven right or pleasantly surprised. - George F. Will

I haven’t got the greatest of hopes for today’s blog, but we’ll see how it goes.

This entry was inspired by iGoogle’s quote of the day (above), and as per usual, a rather a lot (too much) thinking has been involved ever since. To aid my thinking I picked up my philosophical dictionary (it’s a dictionary of philosophical terms, not literally a dictionary which is philosophical – we could get in to a whole heap of mess and metaphors carrying on at this pace...)

Under ‘pessimism’ in the dictionary there were three different entries. Well that’s an optimistic start to help with this blog at least. Under one of the entries for pessimism were several associated words; sorrow, pity, gloom, despondency, hopelessness, absurdity, pain, death; however the most interesting point of this entry was the idea that these things are not just possible, but inescapable. Before I slit my wrists right there at the kitchen table, I looked up the entry for optimism. Much to my chagrin, the opposites of these words could not be found. Which I thought was a great shame.

Flipping back to pessimism, I noticed that there were metaphysical entries. (Once again, not in the literal since, but entries about metaphysics). Schopenhauer says that this world is the worst of all possible worlds, because if it was any worse than it was, it couldn’t exist. This is interesting, but I’m wondering if Schoppy considered that this is the only world? What does that mean then? I bet he did slit his wrists at the kitchen table having thoughts like that all day long. Cheer up love, so long as there are fruity cakes and peach melba in the world, it can’t be all bad can it?

The most famous pessimistical (is that a word? I hope so...) metaphor we’ve all encountered is the glass half full/empty metaphor. I’ve always believed that the state of fullness or emptiness is entirely dependent on the state with which it started. If someone brought me a glass full of water and I drank half of it, I would then say it was half empty. If, on the other hand, they bought me an empty glass and poured some water in, I would then say it was half full.

I’m guessing however, that in the analogy, we don’t know what the glass started off as. This is why I think I will say that the glass is half full because we can presume that at some point it has indeed been empty. Maybe this just proves my optimism. One thing’s for sure, it proves my pedanticism.

So how to conclude today’s blog. I think I’ve decided throughout all this thinking that I am indeed an optimist. But I do worry that I should be a pessimist, because then, much like George F. Will, I’d never be disappointed. So if I’m an optimist who worries, what does that make me? I think I must be a post-modern optimist. ;)

Ciao chums, I’m off to fill glasses half full with water. xxx

It’s one of the biggest clichés of modern times. To be a woman is to have a passion for fashion. Or at least a passing interest.

To some this is completely normal and only what is to be expected from the girlies. However in a post-feminist era, some sectors of the female population (namely me) have been feeling guilty for embracing such obvious feminine qualities.

To be interested in fashion acknowledges the fact that appearance matters. We are constantly sold the contradiction that it’s what’s deep down that matters, while at the same time making sure we are a slave to the fashion industry.

How is anyone supposed to make sense of such double standards? Not only is the acknowledgement that appearance matters present, but there’s also the startling fact that an interest in fashion suggests that it is important. Aren’t we supposed to be more involved in weightier matters such as politics, economics and whatever passes for real news today?

And hence, we have the guilt. We shouldn’t be interested in fashion, because it’s shallow, because it’s cliché, and at the end of the day it’s a triviality that doesn’t matter. Then again, maybe it does. Maybe it’s a welcome distraction from all the rest of the nonsense that goes on. It’s nice to look at pretty pictures of pretty clothes. Nice patterns. Nice colours. Nice nice nice.

To delve into more seriousness and still keep up the clothes quota, think about the history of the fashion. The rise and fall of hemlines to reflect economic prosperity (or lack of). The corset, the (entirely fabricated) bra-burning incident. The freedom of the flapper girls. And so on ad infinitum. I could probably add more to this, but I’ll admit I often get distracted by the pretty pictures and so don’t read up too much on the details, but you can. If you like.

So in the post-feminist world, don’t worry if you like fashion. If you also demonstrate your intelligence through other arenas, I think you can just about get away with it. That’s what feminism should be about anyway – the freedom to be how you want to be and not be judged for it.
So I say, like fashion, or, don’t like fashion. Your choice, my choice, everyone’s choice.

The funny thing is, I don’t even like shopping.

I finally finished my CD which epitomises my music taste (or does it epitomise me - not quite sure about that one). A lot of songs had to face the chop, and making the final 25 was hard, so if you're one of those songs - congratulations. Check out my abstract greetings to a song?!

Well, for those of you eager to know, these are the songs that made the final cut, along with an explanation as to why they're there - enjoy! Any of my special fans who would like a copy of the CD - please let me know! :)

1. Is You Is Or Is You Ain’t My Baby – Dinah Washington (1956)
I suppose one of the main reasons why I love this song is because it shows a blatant disregard for grammar, and that’s something I strive for in my everyday life.

2. Great Balls of Fire – Jerry Lee Lewis (1957)
It’s very lively, and along with the next song, it symbolises the big changes that were coming.

3. Johnny B Goode – Chuck Berry (1958)
Because I’m not sure the rest of the songs on this CD would exist without it.

4. Cheek to Cheek – Frank Sinatra (1959)
Because knowing this had made it on to the list would make my Dad happy, and that’s nice.

5. Stand By Me – Ben E. King (1961)
This was no. 1 on my birthday. I was not born in 1961. I was of course born in 1853; I think you will agree I look remarkably good for my age. I look 120 at most.

6. Hit the Road Jack – Ray Charles (1961)

I’ve always found it a bit of a shock when that woman comes in with “Don’t care if you do!!”.

7. I Just Don’t Know What To Do With Myself – Dusty Springfield (1964)
I did think about putting “Son of a Preacher Man” on, but I thought that although brilliant, it’s a bit cliché and everyone’s probably heard it a million times. Nobody wants to hear a song a million and one times, look what happened to Peter Andre. This song was covered by The White Stripes, and I like them a bit too. Multi-faceted.

8. My Generation – The Who (1965)
This was a fairly late admission to the CD, and it is here because with it, this section of the CD basically encompasses the Sixties, and that ain’t no bad thing. We all know I should have been around in the Sixties and not now.

9. You Can’t Hurry Love – The Supremes (1966)
This is here in spite of Phil Collins bastardizing it in the Eighties. Despite his attempts to ruin it for all music lovers, it stays on the list because it’s a nice message of hope for everyone. One day when I get the band together, I think we’ll release this first. I also like the tune, and the sound of Diana Ross’ voice.

10. Waterloo Sunset – The Kinks (1967)
Because I like to imagine Terry and Julie wandering about. I wonder what they’re doing now. I like the backing vocals on this because they are a bit ethereal. And what a lyric “chilly chilly is evening time.” They don’t write them like that anymore do they? Oh and isn’t paradise a nice word?

11. Being For The Benefit of Mr. Kite – The Beatles (1967)
Choosing a Beatles track is, for me, like choosing my favourite crisp product. That’s right, nigh on impossible. But I chose this one because it’s an album track, so there’s a chance not everyone has heard it. This song has an interesting back history, and is actually based on a real circus. Henry the Horse dances the Waltz – a classic line. I must admit I do sometimes get a bit scared by the surreal sounding circus music, but in the end I think you should always be slightly scared by your music choices.

12. Ride A White Swan – T-Rex (1970)
Because this is just the beginning, and I think it epitomises the seventies. And it’s not I Love to Boogie, which some people think is the only T-Rex song.

13. Brown Sugar – The Rolling Stones (1971)
Another hard choice. I went for Brown Sugar because it was from the seventies, and I wanted a nice representation of the seventies. I think their sixties stuff is a bit too similar to the Beatles.

14. Ziggy Stardust – David Bowie (1972)
I will admit this one made it on to the CD because of the track length fitting perfectly, and it’s not ‘Let’s Dance’ which is quite frankly an abomination. Also, as an afterthought I like the words ‘star’ and ‘dust’.

15. Superstition – Stevie Wonder (1972)
This was the only song that was a definite from the word go. Something about this song just makes it simply stunning. I think it’s the guitar sound.

16. Heart of Glass – Blondie (1978)
I like Blondie, but I have to admit the main reason I chose this is because it’s my top scoring song on SingStar. I think I was particularly good on the “ooooooooooh oh oh oh”. Plus Blondie is pretty hot in the video – I’d have certainly given her a go. Another good one to represent the Seventies as well.

17. Lucky Star – Madonna (1984)
There are numerous reasons why this song got chosen. Obviously we have the star references again, but also the sound at the start that continues in to the background of the song is just divine. Also, check out the groovy dancing in the video, it’s awe-inspiring.

18. Raspberry Beret – Prince (1985)
Need I say much more than ‘She walked in through the out door’? In special homage to this song, I walked out through the in door of the library. WILD.

19. Song For Whoever – The Beautiful South (1989)
Another lyrically inspired choice – ‘I love you from the bottom of my pencil case’ is one of my all time favourite lyrics. I also like the acknowledgement that songs are written to make money. Nice.

20. Married With Children – Oasis (1994)
A good one if you find someone a bit annoying, as the lyrics fit very well to that situation (mentioning no names, obviously). I like how it’s quite jolly sounding despite containing much vitriol. I do of course like the more popular songs of Oasis as well, but as previously mentioned nobody wants to hear a song a million and one times. I used to watch Married With Children quite a lot; maybe it reminds me of that a bit as well.

21. Country House – Blur (1995)
I suppose I really wanted to encapsulate the nineties without the need for all the ridiculously cheesy pop that now sounds terrible, and this for me does it. The lyric ‘I’m a professional cynic, but my heart’s not in it’ helps too. Oh and the reference to Oasis. Nice work.

22. The Bartender and the Thief – Stereophonics (1998)
This is another one which tells a story, and I like songs that do that. Also it has some nice manly foot-stomping about it. Plus, something Welsh has got to be on here somewhere.

23. Hella Good – No Doubt (2001)
Partly because I always think that Billie Jean is about to start and partly because of the awesome bass-line. Plus this was made in a simpler time when Gwen didn’t go about yodelling like a banshee.

24. Toxic – Britney Spears (2004)
Brilliance. Or... as a guest contributor says...
“A song of such magnitude is unfortunately overlooked in these judgemental days of demonization of anything considered "pop"”
Another song that was made in much simpler times. I generally also like words with x in because they make a nice sound when you say them.

25. Once More With Feeling – Get Cape, Wear Cape, Fly. (2006)
This song just reminds me of my years at University. I’ll probably hear this in ten years time and still think of Uni. Ten years time is a subject of hot debate, I’m always thinking about what’s going to happen in ten years time. Also I saw him in Bridgend, and that’s gotta deserve a special mention anyway.

Regular fans of this blog may have noticed it's gone a bit quiet lately.

Some of you might be deluded enough to think this is because I've been out having a life, or perhaps doing some work. Well you'd be mighty wrong.

I think after essay time last week, I lost the spirit to write, coupled with the fact I was only reading literature based on media events and so on, wasn't condusive to a great blogging atmosphere. But I'm going to come back, and this time with a vengeance - just as soon as I can, I promise.

Me and Jen have promised to make a CD previewing our music tastes, it has to fit on to one audio CD - I don't know how to cram my 9 days worth of music into 80 minutes, I'm not quite it's possible. I've been faced with quite a few possible conundrums - what if I pick a song that I like, but I don't like the rest of the artist's catalogue - does this suggest that I do? Plus, today's choice could be very different from yesterday's choice, and a million times different from tomorrow's. I don't think it can ever truly be narrowed down.

Secondly, I'd like to make this blog more interactive. If anyone has a good topic for me to write about, please let me know by commenting on this blog, or by just emailing me or phoning me, I promise I do want to speak to you as well, I love you all.

So give me coffee and TV, I'm off to read something for inspiration.

Peace out. x

As of approximately 1pm yesterday, cry freedom could be heard ringing through the Bute building as I, after a long an arduous night was finally free of my degree.

And how does it feel? Am I running through the streets yelling praise be and jumping up and down with glee? Well, no not really.
I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. As a carthartic release, I decided to immediately list all of my no-longer needed textbooks on eBay in the hope of raising a few quid. Now they're all sitting, rather sullenly in a box, packed up ready to go when and if somebody else wants them.

I should use this time to read all the books, watch all the films and listen to all the music that I ever wanted to do but didn't quite have the time, because I was busy doing work. I should make this blog the most fantastic blog you have ever read, I should tidy my bedroom, have a big clearout and just generally do fantastic things.

But the mountain of books I want to read just keeps growing, and it would be impossible read them all. I might have a go at watching The Shawshank Redemption though.

Then there's the job I should find, I will look for one, I promise, I need one.

I thought I'd have a few days off, not doing much to celebrate the fact that I don't actually have to do much, but I'm not sure it really works like that. I'm already thinking "shouldn't I be doing something?"
Oh well.

As you can tell, because I haven't been blogging for a while, the quality has gone down. Well I've got no excuses now, hopefully there will be better ones to come.

That's all for now, I'm off to read every book ever written.

Peace out x

Because nobody sees the show until my heart says so, check out Matthew's blog, because today's post is the bestest one I have ever had the pleasure to read.

Let's go, Eskimo. (Matt's Blog)

Just to let all my fans knows that I have not died, contracted malaria or taken a leave of absence and disappeared off to France. I have in fact been stuck in the crazy world of essay writing. It's a biggie, and it's the last one. Probably the reason why I've managed to stretch it out for so long.
Anyway, I have to use all my creative energy to make that semi-readable so I'm afraid the blog has taken a back seat for a while. But NEVER FEAR! I have been doing other readings and such like, and as of Wednesday/Thursday, normal blogging service resumes.
Until then, here's small philosophy problem for you:
Does this blog only come into existence when you load it onto your browser? Discuss.
Until the next time, ciao chums. xxx

You could always do a blog called "Emma is Brilliant" - I won't mind.

So here it is. Emma helped me yesterday, she likes to look after me because she is a good sister. It's nice to have a good sister.

Here she is in Budapest, doing well not to look like a maniac (her words not mine).

So everybody say hooray for Emma because she is a nice lady.


During my existential crises over the past few days I've been doing some more thinking. I'm going to need a lie down after all this. I don't think I can handle it that well. More to the point where is it all coming from? Scary stuff.

Anyway for your delectation, here are some of the debates we had last night at the poor poor quiz (bad loser alert). But hey, what's the point of a quiz where you could get all the answers right and still manage to lose - pointless. Just play bingo instead. Bah. Humbug.

Debate #1 - Is it easier to argue about politics than about religion. Does religion ultimately seem a bit too personal? Whereas politics you can take a more standoffish POV, see the other's, and perhaps just agree to disagree. Doesn't seem to be the case with religion so much. You run the risk of hurting people's feelings and that's just not very nice is it? Oh well. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Jesus loves us all, I had a leaflet about it today so it must be true.

#2 - The importance of media education - and am I too cynical? Does Rupert Murdoch want to control us all? Is it all one big marketing lie to get us to buy things we don't need that will eventulaly kill us all? It's important we all learn about these evils so we can fight. But what are these evils? Hmmm... perhaps too cynical.

#3 - Sex and the City - is it feminist or anti-feminist? See my media blog for more full thoughts on this.

#4 - Lastly - and this was more of a debate with myself. Why the sudden desire to learn more and consume more knowledge? Is it because of this blog? Is it a cycle, the blog means you need more to write about, so you start reading more, start thinking more, then the thinking makes you blog and so the circle is complete? I like circles. I suppose then anything that gets you thinking is good really, hmm. But then too much thinking and your brain explodes, and nobody wants that.

Well that's all for now. My head hurts. And so does yours by now probably after this week, so here's a nice picture of a butterfly to take away all that pain. I like to think about rainbows, when it gets bad. You got to think about something to keep from going mad. (Thanks Gwen).

I'm off to try not to think. Don't think about purple elephants.


It is quite frankly simply amazing the ping-pinging that your brain can do. Jumping from one topic to another with the greatest of ease, and picking up on the subject that was three topics previously.

Today was a day for much thinking, hopefully I won't turn into Rodin's statue with all this thinking because I can't imagine that would be much fun.

Nancy and Stacey make their return today. Nancy revealed something about Stacey to an nearby listener and Stacey didn't think this was very nice. Stacey wished that she could storm out, but then she realised that wasn't in her nature. Stacey thinks that the green-eyed monster is still lurking in the air, but can do nothing to confirm this. Stacey doesn't like this but needs to move on.

The next ping on the stop after the digressions of Nancy and Stacey's morning play was the subject of destiny and fate. I can never remember why I wanted to come to Cardiff in the first place, but I'm certainly glad I did. I would not have done my dissertation if I'd have gone to Leeds or London, probably never even given it a second thought. I would not have been to Roath Park and seen the ducks. I would not know the people who I know, I would not know Nancy, or for that matter, Stacey. Stacey would not exist, perhaps Tracey would. It's something I will never know, and something I don't think I want to know. What made me pick Cardiff? Was it fate, destiny, coincidence or something else? Woah... too much thinking. I better stop before my brain explodes. What a mess.

After we depart from this station, we got to questioning whether if you were being written about would you realise?. Assuming pseudonyms and abstract situations are used, would we ever be aware. Certain parties in this conversation seemed to think so, but I would like to credit them with more cerebral functioning than other people. Maybe it's just because they know that it happens that they know. Who knows? Certainly not me that's for sure. You're so vain, I bet you think this blog is about you.

The next stop on the list was time travel and alternate dimensions. Now this is the seriously heavy duty stuff. Physics and all sorts. I said that I didn't think time travel was possible because if it was then people from the past would be here saying hello to us. My conversational opposite said something about alternate universes being created when the time travel exists, which is exactly the same as this one, so we wouldn't know about it anyway. Well this just blew my mind. I also said I'm frightened of paradoxes. I don't understand them. If you go back in time and do something to prevent your birth, then you die... but if you don't exist to go back and alter the time line, then it's a paradox. It was at this point that my brain actually did explode and a team of Paramedics rushed on the scene and shouted "What the hell has been happening here then? STOP THIS DANGEROUS ACTIVITY AT ONCE!".

I had to have a little break from the thinking (after the disastrous results of the last time) and I think the last notable discussion I had was about the Mozart effect. This was with another conversation partner, I have well and truly been a debate whore today. My partner proposed a new effect called the Beethoven effect. In case you're not as sad as me and know about stuff like this, the "Mozart effect" basically states that listening to Mozart enhances your intelligence (when compared to listening to nothing or 'relaxation' music.) I want to recreate the test but with my favourite song of all time "Smack my Bitch Up" and observe the results.

Well, with all this thinking I might have to go and lie down in a darkened room for a few years, you might feel the need to do the same after today's marathon. Or if you feel you can continue, head over to my media blog for a tale about another debate I had about mens and women's magazines.

Today really has been about the mass debate (read in to that what you will...)


P.S. I'm extra proud of today's blog picture, because it was in fact taken by my good self in Paris, circa 2005.

Originally uploaded by amydavies87
Sitting in my bedroom,
Looking at the sun,
Thinking about the park,
And all it's fun

But it takes 20 minutes to walk
And oh oh oh
What if I can't get my spot?
And oh oh oh
What if I get too hot?

The long walk to the park
It didn't seem so long today
Why is that then - hey?

Get to my spot and it's free.
Lots and lots of space for me.
And all my crap
I've got too much stuff
Here and at home
Oh what to do.

The trouble with the park
Ohhhh the trouble with the park
Yes, the trouble with the park
Too much time
Too much time
Yes far too much time
Oh Oh Oh.

Falling asleep in the park
Like being a tramp
But only the best part
The sleeping part
I bet it's no fun being a tramp in winter
Oh to be a summertime tramp

Oh oh oh
A summertime tramp.

Walking back
Doesn't take as long
It never does
Why doesn't it take so long?
Not so much stuff
It's all gone, devoured, gone.

Oh oh oh.

There and back again.
And Back Again.
There and Back.
There and Back Again.
Back Again
Back Again Back Again Back Again.


I would thank the inspiration for today's blog, but I know he won't like that so I won't.

Even though yesterday was officially the hand in date for the dreaded dissertation, I could still talk about national identity until the cows come home.

I found myself in a pub with two Welshmen and an English woman (and myself of course - it would have been hard to leave myself behind really - I've tried it before, very messy business). I'm not quite sure how it happened but we got onto the subject of national identity, as it turns out the Welshmen have nothing against us individually, but more like as a whole nation.

The ladies explained that its nothing personal really, it's just a collective cultural ability to dismiss the other nations, probably as a result of an Anglocentric media or something. It was quite a heavy discussion after several rounds of drinking and I'm sure it was past midnight. I think that's pretty impressive. Then again, maybe it was impressive because of the drinking, not in spite of it. Perhaps the conversation actually went something like this:

Person A: What about this er, er, Welsh/English thing then?

Person B: Yeh. Damn it. God damn it.

Person A: Yeah, totally. You're so right. Why didn't I think of that. Nothing personal. HSIHKJFHSKJDGHKJFG. Definitely. Culdkjshftual diffs and that.

Person B: I lovvvve you. I bloody do. We're all British aren't we? Errrrrrrrrrr................ [something incomprehensible]

Person A: Not really.

Person B: OK, but I still bloody love you.

Person C: You know what I think? No no, it's gone. But I bet it was an excellent point. I bet it really was.

Person D: Whose round is it?

It's just another one of those things we'll never know I'm guessing - unless someone in the pub has a recording of it?

Let me know, I'm off to consider what the hell a media event is.



Isn't it funny what jealousy can do to people? When it becomes obvious that you want something that someone else has, all reasonable rationalisation goes out of the window and the green eyed monster steps in instead. (You will note that in my picture, the entire monster is green, not just his eyes - that's because he has become entirely consumed by jealousy I think).

But jealously cannot exist without words, so to be jealous of words is perhaps a very strange conundrum indeed. Intimidation. That's something else that can cause behaviour that is similar to jealousy.

But the point is this can all be so easily resolved. Stop believing that you don't have what the other person has and perhaps it will come to you, because, in the end, you won't get something without trying for it. You also have to want something, and to want something you have to forget about jealously and think instead about how you can acheive it without putting down those that do, because that simply won't get you anywhere. You might also want to think about whether you actually want that thing, or whether it's for status or simply because someone else posesses it. If you had it - would you still desire it so?

Lastly, it is important to remember that jealousy is something that happens to us all, and can be uncontrollable. But once you learn to recognise this fact then you might be able to let it go and in the end be happy.

And that's all anybody could want really isn't it?

(I love you but you're green...)
P.S. - If you think you could spare the time out of your hectic schedule, then please pay a visit to my media blog for yesterday's entry on Euro 2008.

'Look at the world around you and try to see and understand as much you can' Paulo Coelho

I spent the day at the lake today, and I thought that perhaps the lovely surroundings might inspire a fantastic blog, but I think I might be wrong about that one. I took my notepad and paper with me, but for some reason it does not inspire me as much as the keyboard seems to. Maybe that's because the computer gives a sense of urgency that somebody might actually be reading this, whereas there, in the brilliant sunshine the thought of who might be reading this couldn't have been further from my mind. Or was it? It can't be that far or I wouldn't have brought my notebook with me.

There's another point while I think about it - why have I started this notebook from the back? Could this be an anti-establishement statement against the years of oppression which forced us for centuries to start writing from the front?! Or am I just backward?

Going back to an earlier blog about resolutions, I think I am keeping them up fairly well, although point no. 11, about making this blog more interesting isn't really for me to judge.

I'd been waiting to get to the lake since Saturday, and I can tell you it was worth the wait. But then I didn't want to leave. Why did I have to leave? Probably sleeping there wouldn't have had the same lure as being there in the mid afternoon sun. Maybe I would have been pecked to death by ducks who are used to having the park back as their own territory come sunset. That's not something I'm willing to find out in the near future, so I'll have to settle for going back tomorrow if it's sunny and I've actually done some work.

I took lots of photos for photos of the day, the trouble is this leaves me with a dilemma over which one to choose. I decided to be greedy and make a whole album for it instead. When trying to capture the sunlight sparkling off the water my camera just wasn't up to the task. Rather than be sad about this, I've decided to see it as positive, as something special. Photo of the day has made me want to get out more, a subsidiary effect of the project, but a welcome one none-the-less. Not that I didn't want to get out more before, but as it's as if I needed the push.

Another thing I have noticed today is that sunglasses make people look like they're staring at you, when in all probablity they're not.

Well on reflection this is a bit of a mammoth blog, so I should probably let you get back to doing something more interesting. If you want to see exciting photos to accompany today's blog then please visit the photo link to the left.

Cheerio chums. x

I love you but you're green.

"God is really only another artist. He invented the giraffe, the elephant and the cat. He has no real style. " PABLO PICASSO

I found this quote accompanying a charming picture of a giraffe on Friday February 15, 2008 in The Times. I had no idea that it would lead to the phenomenon that is today's blog post.

As an atheist I have always been fascinated by religion. I think that might be because I have an overwhelming desire to know what's going on and to be included in everything. So when there's large groups of people believing and doing something, maybe I feel excluded from it. From another point of view, there's also a large group of people following the atheism route, so maybe I am part of that group instead.

Is it my right to be intrigued by religion? As a non-believe should I be cast to the sidelines, ready to declare that everybody is barking up the wrong tree? When the God-squad call round, I like it, not because I try to convince them that they are wrong but because I like listening to their opinions, so I can form my own and know that we are not all the same.

Is there any one particular religion that I am fond of? I suppose I have had the most encounters with Christianity, but I don't think it's my favourite. I think my favourite is probably Buddhism, because I think something that has a fat man as the central point that you can rub the belly of for good luck is a nice sentiment. Also, as I've decided I'm going to live forever, reincarnation is probably the only outlet through which this might be possible. Hang on what am I saying - I'm an atheist. I take it all back. I have no favourite religion, they are all equal.

It's not everyday that I have such profound moments, where I sit at the kitchen table and write an essay about religion, but then again, it's not every day that you would want to read my profundity, so perhaps that is the real reason. Most days I'm sure you just want to see pictures of Boris Johnson or listen to my musings on Smarties. But I think sometimes it's good to think, but not too often or that might get dangerous.

So how to conclude today's piece? Should I consider why it is that religion has touched me so deeply, when I don't even believe in it. I don't believe in fairies either but I don't give them much thought. Maybe I should? Next time this blog goes off on a similar vein it should be about the fairy world, or maybe the pixie world, or the goblin world, or the elf or imp world. Maybe I could provide a once and for all definitive guide as to the differences between them all. Is it of any relevance that this blog post comes on a Sunday or is it all just coincidence? Is everything a coincidence - is there such a thing as coincidence? You decide, I've done too much thinking today.

And after all this, perhaps there is one thing that I haven't considered.

Maybe I just liked the picture of the giraffe.

N.B. Today's blog title comes from Ghandi, thanks pal.

To look around here you might think that a certain kind of professional was in residence. Several books and posessions would seem to claim so.

But as they gather dust, all they are is suggestions of what may be, not accurate predictors.

While they are there they make me think that I will live up to their expectations, but I don't mind if I don't. I find the prospect intriguing. We are not what we do, we are who we are.

Was Einstein a clerk in a patent office or the greatest physicist who ever lived?* I can understand where old Alby is coming from after my time in the patents and trademarks world. Me and Alby are so closely related it's unbelievable.

As you can tell from today's double blog entry, one should really remember the simple phrase of "quality not quantity" so I'll sign off.

Ciao for now. x

*And of course there's the oft told tale of the simple carpenter's son who went on to own the biggest pizza chain in history.

First of all, I would like to apologise to my many readers for the severe lack of blogging action yesterday. I hope none of you cried yourself to sleep last night over it.

After consuming a bucket-load of food last night in the Mexican, we all declared that we would not be eating again for a very long time. This was soon forgotten upon production of 49p 12 assorted snack collection. (I'm not allowed to use trademarks to name them because that is wrong!). I had "cheese puffs" and Hannah had "salt and vinegar crunchy sticks".

So Bo Jo is in and Ken's out. This really is a testament to what London will do in the name of a comedy haircut. Bravo. Quote of the month (perhaps even year) belongs to Alan as he declared his disgust that the London Mayor wasn't doing enough for the rest of the UK! Right on! I bet Tony Blair is loving all this. Time named him as one of the 100 most influential people in the world this week, however Gordon was missing, it's not been a good week since him. Or as Brian Blessed, the all knowing one put it "this week was Gordon Brown's worst week as Prime Minister, since last week". I am stealing other people's words because I can't find my own. I hope you all enjoy the lovely images of Boris provided here, I know I did.

As it's only 4 years to go until the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, I thought I'd start another question, along the same line as the Jack the Ripper question - why are people still so fascinated by it 100 years on? You have four whole years to think about this, and get back to me, on which day I shall do a special Titanic themed blog - tune in for that!

Loose Women annoyed me yesterday by harping on about the British weather. Yet today I am slightly miffed that it is not sunny, I am nothing if not hypocritical.

Me and Hannah got to chatting about Death last night. I'm not sure why I capitalised the word 'death' there, we weren't having a chat about the grim reaper. I've decided that quite simply I'm not going to die. Easy when you think about it really.

Well that's it for now, you never know, if you're really especially lucky I might do another blog later on and today will be a blogging extravaganza. Maybe I shouldn't have said that because you'll get your hopes up. Oh well, that's me for you.
Ciao chums x

Ballot Box

Today I visited Church. No, I haven't suddenly been touched by God, but rather, it was time to vote in the local elections. Here in Cardiff we have an extra special treat of not 1 vote, but FOUR! Yes that's right folks, FOUR!

So off I toddled to the polling booth, I won't tell you which parties I voted for, because I believe it's meant to be secret, and I don't want this blog turning into a political whip! There weren't many people when I got there, maybe there had been a sudden rush earlier, or maybe people round here aren't bothering to vote. This wouldn't surprise me as this area is probably 90% populated by students. Apathy amongst the young is a shame, although not surprising. I think politicians need to find a new way to connect with the young that doesn't involve the words 'Hug a Hoodie' or 'Webcameron'. I don't know what the answer is, which is probably why it's a good thing I'm not running for office (this time - my world domination plans don't kick off until 2022.)

Some people suggest that the voting age should be lowered to 16. It seems to me that this would create an extra million people who don't bother to vote, so what's the point. Maybe an alternative would be that any 16-year-old who has the desire to vote writes in to ask for it. Then we'd also know how many are politicised.

Today's voting got me thinking about why I vote. If you were a cynic, you might say that I voted today just so I could write this blog. Well, you might be partly correct, but at the same time, I voted last year (actually - that's a good point - I can't even remember what that was for, although it must have been different because I had two voting slips, not one...) so I must just like doing it. I remember the first time I was entitled to vote, that was for a General Election, so it was even MORE exciting - if you can believe it! It felt like a rite of passage, as if, now I'm 18 I can take part in this ritual - woo hoo! I vote now because I like to believe in a democracy, but I think I might be a bit deluded - a bit like feeling you're interacting, but really it's just to keep us all quiet. Again, with the cynicism.

Well anyway, thus ends today's special edition blog. Head over to my media blog for my review of electioneering material - yes it's really exciting isn't it!
I must be off because, as we all know, instant gratification is needed these days, not in depth political analysis, and a chocolate cheesecake and Heroes awaits me!

Ciao chums. x

So today sees another place in desperate need of rebranding. Yes that's right folks, Austria. I don't know if the big media corporations have been reading my blog and so are just sticking the word "rebranding" in the hope that I will mention them or link to them, but by jove, this time it has worked! Would you believe it! But the problem is, instead of mentioning any kind of context, I've just written this mangled garbage, so it's probably backfired on them! Aha! In your face Murdoch and Maxwell!

So Britain apparently loves a good Innuendo. No, of course not the Queen album! Don't be silly!This is all because the sexually repressed need a tittilating way to express their kinkiness, and the perfect outlet for this is a good old innuendo. Here is a joke that I heard a long while about an innuendo, I'm not quite sure who told it to me so I can't quite give you credit: "A man walked into a bar and asked for a double entendre. So he gave her one." BOOM BOOM! Oh yes, with jokes like that, I think you'll agree, this blog will never go stale!

It won't be long until I have to wave goodbye to something that has overtaken my life in the last few months, and that is of course the dissertation. It will of course be an enormous relief to finally get the bugger bound up and handed in, but at the same time I think I'm going to miss the little fellow. Here's a charming picture of a small boy celebrating me coming to the end of my dissertation in true national identity style! Everybody say 'aaaah'. Hoorah!

Anyway, join me tomorrow for a special report on the local elections, including a minute by minute account of my journey to the polling station! Oh yes, I really do spoil you lucky people!

I'm off to (insert your own innuendo here - so to speak). xx

Click here for today's media blog on the most offensive advert in Britain.

In the 1880s, a man who attacked and stabbed over 50 women received only 6 years imprisonment, which was, by the standards of the day, an extraordinarily long sentence. Something like that really makes you wonder if the English legal system really has gotten as bad as it is often declared so. Comments welcome. If anybody is actually reading this, it could provide an interesting debate. If nobody is, then it can just be added to the extensive portfolio of rantings that I come out with nowadays. Does this blog even exist, without a readership?

Wednesday usually turns out to be a productive day, but as I no longer have to be up so early and sitting in front of a computer screen, I'm afraid that the normal rest-of-the-week service may have to be adequate.

In political news this week, it is said that Gordon Brown is preferred abroad to here in old Blighty. I think it's because he's Scottish. What do you think? Either that or it's that weird thing he does with his mouth - no, not talking, although that is slightly annoying too - that weird mouth movement like he's just about to wretch a-la Prescott. Maybe the yanks like that kind of thing, maybe they like Scottish people. Who knows. Maybe they do, but being as I'm not one of them, I'm not sure I can answer it fully.

I was also reading, in the very same article, that in London there is a professor in "contemporary British history". Now most people would probably call this "news", or maybe "politics". Contemporary British History - it sounds like another rebranding gone wrong yet again!

I have to tell you that the contents of today's blog have very little to do with its title, make what you will of that.

Now, as I got invited to be an X-factor judge today - or rather, the "second best thing" (apparently) - judging a website at the annual Bright Futures conference... I want to make this blog a bit more interactive, and I'm also thinking along the lines of a re-brand, because I'm about the only media outlet left who hasn't done that for a while. So, if you like the current look of the blog, please vote by sending the comment "I LOVE YOUR BLOG!". I promise, this is not a blatant and obvious beg for love. Honestly.

We are very nearly at the one-month anniversary of the creation of this blog, one month on and I'm still writing. Who would have thought, one whole month of boredom!


Anyway, that's all for today, I'm off to judge the X-Factor. (Don't forget to check out my media blog for today's exciting entry about kinky porn!)


Nancy was talking to Stacey today when Stacey said that she did not like eating watermelons.

Nancy replied that she too despised the watermelon, but every day she felt compelled to purchase and consume watermelons.

Stacey couldn't quite understand and told Nancy how easy it was to avoid this by not simply not buying watermelons.

"But!" cried Nancy, "It is too hard to avoid, when I read about watermelons in magazines and then hear my friends talking about how great watermelons are!"

"Don't be silly," Stacey tried to reassure Nancy "You can always talk to me, for fear not, I shall never give those silly watermelons praise, and we shall wax lyrical on all manner of other exciting and interesting topics!"

But Stacey could see that the words were lost on Nancy, and that Nancy would probably eat some watermelon that very afternoon. But at least she tried.

--- FIN ---

Today I present a few questions for your consideration:

1) Are we what we do or are we who we are?

If I am a journalist, am I journalism? It's abstract thoughts such as these which keep me from writing anything with any coherance, so apologies for that.

2) Are the capturing of pictures to commemorate an event more important than the actual event which it is commemorating? Sometimes, it seems to me like taking a photograph is more essential than the experience, which seems a shame to me. But then again I guess it's just symptomatic of an obsession with trying to keep mementos of our youth and experiences for when we are old. I just hope that when we are old, we won't just have hundreds of photos capturing something we don't remember doing.

3) Why is it that people are obsessed with Jack the Ripper? Only today I received a magazine featuring a big special on the elusive murderer. If Jack the Ripper had been caught, do you think that people would be so fascinated with him today? Oh and what is with people's fascination with the morbid - if this kind of thing happens today we are horrified, but in 100 years time it turns into entertainment - what's that all about?

And I'd like to end today's blog on a nice philosophy:

*Learn as if you were going to live forever*

Au revoir chums x Click here for today's media blog!

Today, or perhaps it was actually yesterday, I got to thinking about something which has always plagued me. Why is it that scientists who discover planets with ice/water decide that this means that there is definitely the possibility of alien life-forms having existed there?

Now I'm not a science boffin, but someone needs to explain to me what's behind all this. Surely aliens are, alien? Do they need water? Do they need oxygen? Surely basing their needs on our own needs is a bit, well, naive? Or maybe I'm just missing out on something. If you know the answer to this question, then if you could let me know I'd surely be able sleep better. Thanks.

In other news, I know you will all be dying to know that the copy of Elle magazine sold for a whopping great £39 plus £20 p&p, netting me a profit of around £50. Yipee. I knew there was something to be said about sticking with capitalism and throwing out consumerism. I haven't consumed that much this week, but I've still managed to capitalise on someone else's uncontrollable spending desires. Yesss! (This is not a reference to the Austrian phone network, just in case you wondered).

All of that got me thinking about fans. Not the kind that blows air on you when it's a bit hot, but the fanatics. What is about certain individuals, who are, after all, merely human, that would induce an otherwise sane individual to spend a whopping great £39 plus £20 p&p on a magazine, which, lets be honest, is not of the greatest quality and was not altogether different from that which was available in the shops. Having studied theories of fandom with the famous Matt Hills, I should probably know the answer to this, or have some sort of psychological profiling worked out on the kind of person that would do this, but having been over a while since I finished that module, it's more-or-less gone out of my head. That was so worthwhile. In case you were wondering what the picture that illustrates this paragraph is, apparently it's Andy Abrahams and his no.1 fan. Who'd have thought it.

So my last point, in order to live up to the title of this blog is: what would happen if aliens came to Earth? Would they become celebrities and would they gain themselves a new breed of fan - the alien-fan? You might say that people who believe they're already out there, follow crop-circles and love a bit of Roswell are these people. We currently call them deluded or freaks - so what would happen if aliens actually did come to Earth? If you've got any theories on this, let Matt Hills know, he'd probably love to hear from you.

Anywho, I'm off to look for flying saucers and more Madonna fans to sell magazines to.

Ciao for now, fans.


Yesterday the God Squad called round for a bit of a chat before tea-time. Although these were nice God-squadders, no trying to convert me, just a nice chat about why we're here. I wanted to answer because this is where I live, this is my house you lunatics! But they meant in a more deep-and-meaningful, did God-create-us way - I told them I was here by chance. This was one of the options on the nice green sheet they gave me. If only all the answers in life were as simple as that nice green sheet then we'd have a lot less to worry about.

What do I think about Jesus? I said he was a good teacher - although, his stance on punctuation is unknown. If he taught the kids how to use colons and stuff, I'd say he was even better. But that's just something I'll never know I guess.

I've decided I want to travel around, but being poor (and anti-consumerist) I naturally don't want to pay for it, therefore, if anybody wants to pay me to travel around and come up with exciting blogs such as my Hungarian ones, then please let me know. You wouldn't have to pay me much, just expenses naturally. And I think you'll agree, that the blogs will be truly fantastic, and your page will become the biggest read page in the history of the whole entire interweb. Fantastico.

And on that note, for all of you sensible people who like to check out my photo blog, good news kids, it's expanded! Check out the ultra-new shiny and super page here. Again, if anybody wants to pay me to take photos of various cities, then I shall do that for you too - just let me know. I'll be waiting.

I've read today that more people in Britain donate to donkey charities than donate to abuse charities. I'm not sure which category donkey abuse comes under, but I'm guessing the first. I'm not sure what to make of it, I can't say I'm surprised by it. Next time I see that donkey advert though I'm going to shout at the television "you've got enough money, you robbing donkeys!" and see how they like that. I know they won't be able to understand me - donkeys do not have the same cerebral functioning of the average human being, but I will feel like justice is being done. Next time I visit Blackpool, I'll kick a donkey in the shin and steal some money from it, then it will know what it's like to be a victim of abuse in this country! Right on sister!

Why on Earth are McDonald's dressing up their slaves like this. That's right as a "mark of respect" for their staff. How about paying them more than 10p an hour, and in fact telling them that surely there must be better jobs than working in that hell-hole? I bet the kids who work there are just so happy that the boss-men have decided to dress them up like a badly-dressed air-stewardess (jeez that's bad) . That'll make the days shovelling burgers down the throats of the fatties whizz by. Well done.

O, it is excellent
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous
To use it like a giant

Not my words of course, but Shakespeare's. Happy Birth and Death day to him today. The quote is from Measure for Measure, supposedly a comedy, but about as funny as Mr Bean. No, wait that's too harsh. It does have a character called Pompey Bum in it, and that's a joke that just keeps on giving. The words are spoken by a nun. Today's blog theme could almost be nuns, almost. But it won't be. Not today - come back tomorrow instead perhaps. If I was being political today I would argue that that quote resonates quite well with lots of world leaders in the current climate. But I'm not feeling that political, so I'll just carry on laughing at Pompey Bum. Ha ha ha.

Today is St. George's Day. Ah, like so many great English folk, St George was in fact, not English. Tell that to the Daily Express buffoons! Anyway, as more people in fact celebrate Bonfire Night nowadays, I'm hoping my little corner of blog will tell everyone that it's not a crime to celebrate St. George's Day - so get out there and pretend like you care about England and maybe one day you really will. This paragraph doesn't really apply to any of my Welsh fans, so apologies for that.

Anyway, I think I've talked for long enough now, this extra long blog is to make up for the fact that there was a stunning lack of blog-action yesterday - many apologies.

Farewell, I'm off to kick a donkey.



Today I accidentally posted what was meant to be my main blog in my media blog. 

Then I realised that as it was about advertising, it should probably stay there. So head over there (see link on the left) fans for something truly spectacular about Smarties. No, really. 

In other news, that magazine I put on eBay is currently selling for £7.50. The capitalist agenda rages on! 

So here's something for everyone to consider, what is the role of the matriarch in the modern-day soap opera? Should we all aim to be a bit more like Pat Butcher? Or is it Pat Evans? I can never keep up with these name changes. As far as I'm concerned, Dot will always be Dot Cotton. Yes that's right - my dissertation also rages on. There's a lot of raging on today. Although it's nearly finished. I think I will be quite sad. Especially when I get a third for it. Oh well. At least I got to stare out the library twins. My library reign may resume later this week, so watch out! 

That's all for now folks, I'm off to think about doing some work. 

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