Non-truth discovery when drunk
Posted May 19, 2003
"...it's like that old joke: How High is a Chinaman..."
"You know - How High is a Chinaman. It's not a question - How High *is* a Chinaman"
"What? I don't understand..."
"It's his name, it's like a chinese name: How High is a Chinaman"
"Chinaman is his name? What sort of a name is that?"
"Jesus..." *buries head in hands*
"Yeah, go on..."
Truth discovery when drunk
Posted May 12, 2003
"So, what do you think comes first? Liking bands like Folk Implosion and Sebadoh, or not getting laid? Cos let's face it, the two go hand in hand."
"I reckon the two arrive together, and feed off each other, creating a vicious cicle."
"Good theory. Another?"
The best film title ever
Posted May 9, 2003
Coming soon to my local hyperplex, as part of their Asia Extreme season:
"Sympathy for Mr Vengeance"
When you are tired of Fife, take solace in pet ownership
Posted Apr 7, 2003
Not an April Fool
Posted Apr 1, 2003
So there I am, at Craighouse Campus, nice and early. I have an hour before the debate starts, so I can look over what I'm going to say, check for any last minute errors, and relax before I do one-third of a ten minute talk. Which is assessed, by the way.
Half an hour later, my phone rings, with it's highly irritating ringtone (to everyone else - hey, I think 'Hall of the Mountain King' is ace). It's another member of the debate team, and it's not good news.
"Brian is ill, and he's not turning up."
Brian is our first speaker, and also the best at this kind of thing. Panic arrives quickly, along with fear, terror, and a strong desire to leave. Quickly.
"What are we going to do?"
There's only one thing to do. And it's a stupid thing to do, but it must be done. We don't even have his notes.
"I'll do it. I'll write his part of the speech in the next..." I check my watch. Oh dear. "...twenty minutes, and read it out."
"Are you sure?"
So that's what I did. I hate public speaking, yet I spoke for around 7 minutes, half of which I'd made up in the last twenty minutes and not practiced. It was hell. We lost, but not by much, and gained a respectable mark. It's an hour later, and I'm still shaking. I plan to kill Brian.
Perhaps it's a necessary skill for journalists to make stuff up under pressure in this manner. Watching 24-hour news, it certainly seems like it.