Tuesday, May 13, 2008

I love tuesdays

Because Guardian Education is the best supplement. New studies have shown that children who have good relationships with their parents are less likely to go to university.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Stuff that has recently made me spit through my teeth with rage


Who needs all that expensive, time-consuming counselling when you have a blog?

1. Jacqui Smith- 'hounding' London youth with the 'Basildon plan'.
They tried it out on 'Problem Estates' (poor areas) in a suburban dormitory town and cowed local youths into submission by blatantly disregarding their human rights and shadowing the poor bastards day and nights. They had so many innocent teenagers on file that no one could write their name on a bus stop without the Stasi jumping out on them with their entire 13-year life history recorded on illegal CCTV tapes. They had a database that would run through an illegal list of anyone wearing a hoodie within the Essex area and spurt out ASBOs through a fully automated fingerprint-and-DNA-matching illegal database. You can't walk down the road to Blockbusters with your hands in your pockets in Basildon anymore without a member of the Essex Constabulary illegally following you with a video camera.

"So Essex is fucked up. So what? That's why we normal people don't live there."

Well, this plan has apparently been so successful that our beloved Home Secretary is going to scale it up! Basildon- pop. 99,876, to London, pop. 7,512,400. Jacqui Smith is going to 'hound' them? Maybe she could get our new mayor to help- he used to hound not only foxes but stags. What about making it a sport everyone can participate in? Maybe for the Olympics? We could chase delinquents through the streets! There could be horns! Toora loora!

2. The way Jacqui Smith chooses to spell her name- if you can end it with a 'y' and you choose to end it with an 'i' I hate you. Especially if you're called Rebecca and you call yourself Becci.

3. The English University System as explained by my teacher, K. Anderson.
K.A. 'Did you go to secondary school in England, Barbara?'
Barbara 'No,'
K.A. 'Well you probably don't realise that in England, when you write an essay on your philosophy course, you don't give your own opinions- just make sure you demonstrate that you know what the philosopher has said'
B 'Like parrot learning?'
K.A. 'Well... I suppose you could say that.'

4. The same teacher's opinion on commas.
'Try to use more commas to make your sentences more readable,'
What? I'm not writing for the 'Village with three corners' series! (Although sometimes I think Simone Weil thinks she is- at least there her social reform ideas might actually work.) Commas are a crutch for people too lame to get to the end of the sentence without a rest.

5. People who think that 'but that's just semantic' is a valid counter-argument. Show me something that isn't just semantic to me, baby. Everything you talk about is just semantic. I only leave the house to go to the pub these days. Words are everything. Don't sit in my house drinking my wine and trying to win a pretentious, over-intellectualised, irrelevant and pointless argument with me by criticising the way I frame my words. Until you put that bayonet in my hand words are all I've got and I'll drive them home any way I like. Real world? What fucking real world?

6. Other insults that make me laugh: 'bleeding heart liberal'- every night I pray to baby jesus that I will wake up and find I have become a 'bleeding heart liberal'. (Jussi: 'The bleeding heart liberal in me died for like five minutes when I read that').
'reformist' Oh God, I wish I was a reformist. Maybe then I could lie on my deathbed and feel like I had made the world a tiny little bit better.

7. My hair. It now only does two things- Ringo Starr in '64 or Paul McCartney in Wings. I don't even have any control over which one it will be on any given day.

8. The Guardian. It used to just happen with the free papers they give out on the tube, but now the Guardian has started to have the same effect. Every time I open it I want to kill myself. The feeling is intensified by the fact that I spend 80p to read the fatuous opinions of the gaggle of drivelling columnists they hire to sit at home prattling on about organic vegetables, in the peculiar hope that no one will notice they have no international news coverage whatsoever. (Apart from 'This week in the Democratic Candidate Big Brother House') And domestic news just makes me want to kill myself even harder. (Not you, Tim Dowling. You're a layabout but you make me laugh.)

9. Teresa Salmon. I've never even met you, but if you're googling your own name and read this, be assured that I seriously dislike you. Fat cow.

10. Solitaire. I know, it's completely self-inflicted, I have no right to your pity, and I certainly don't deserve treatment for it at an NHS hospital, but it's killing me. I need help. I dream about Solitaire. I can play a whole game in my head without any need for a computer. And I always win.

Things I still like:
Doonesbury
Sunshine
Playing pool

Wednesday, May 07, 2008

I take it back. Everything.

I've been arguing with people all week about Boris-voters- I was convinced that 1,170,000 people couldn't really choose to vote for someone because he had silly hair. Then I did some research on the tube today, by dint of openly eavesdropping all the way from High Barnet (don't ask) in the rush hour. Top four reasons people on the Northern line voted for Boris:
  1. He's 'refreshing'
  2. Ken never represented the suburbs, where people don't see anything back for their council tax. He was just all about the inner city.
  3. The Congestion Charge
  4. He's 'a bit of a laugh'
Educational. Talking of 'educational', apparently you can now get your essays custom-written for you online for $5- $20. Yet another possible future career option turns out to not be so lucrative after all. The most interesting thing I found out today: There's a religious sect in Vietnam, Cao Dai, that worships Victor Hugo as a saint. That's the second best piece of Victor Hugo trivia I've ever heard. Well, sorry to blog about Boris. I'll never talk about it again. The best piece of Victor Hugo trivia ever: Two million people came to his funeral in Paris, 1885, including loads of Parisian prostitutes, who loved him for creating one of the first positive portrayals of a prostitute in Fantine. Anyway, they declared that in honour of Hugo, all sex was free for one night only. A lot of other women decided to join in the fun (I didn't make this up!) and as the sun went down, the streets of Paris exploded into a massive orgy.