The Voice of JMAK

With apologies to around 14% of Stoke.

2008-11-28T00:19:34Z

This week I have been attending a London South Bank University 'taster course' called ‘Men into Primary’ which involved lectures on the positive aspects a male can bring to teaching at Primary level and involved a day at a South London primary. Until recently I had not completely made up my mind about what age I want to teach, but the course has really made me turn towards Primary. Only 13% of Primary teachers are men, and the course really gave me some food for thought.

As great as the course was, I did not enjoy having to be in London by 8.30am -9 am every morning. There is nothing worse then getting up on a bitter cold day, marching up to the tube station and forcing yourself into the packed tube carriage. As soon as the door closes the stink of humanity fills your nostrils and the warm jumper, scarf and overcoat you desperately needed to bare the frosty air and sharp winds outside are now a burden and you are suddenly transported to the height of summer. Who knew the summer that never was this year was hiding all along on the Jubilee Line between West Ham and London Bridge? It also brought back memories of when I was a ‘commuter’ back when I worked for the bank that shall not be named. So overall, it was not a pleasant experience…but worth it, as I found the course incredibly informative and useful…who knows…it could have shaped my future for years to come?

In other news:

Last weekend the local branch of ASDA were having there Christmas party at the club, and lucky old me got to work it. I have never seen so many pissed up, fat, ugly, till monkey, people in the same place, at the same time…and remember I lived in central Stoke for a year. The shift was horrendous, it was not busy…busy doesn’t begin to describe how rammed it was. I’ve seen busy nights before, but all those nights pale in insignificance compared to what I witnessed and endured on Sunday night. However the one thing I noticed which annoyed me the most was that, for a bunch of people who work in a supermarket where queuing is a vital part of ensuring the place can function properly, how none of them were able to queue properly, or respect their colleagues place in the queue…and many were very rude when they weren’t getting served immediately.

But one of the great things about working in a place such as a Working Men’s club is that it is not part of a large multinational supermarket group, which no doubt has rules on how staff can talk to customers. These rules don’t exist in a local club; so when someone is rude or pushes in…you can tell them off and even tell them exactly what you think of them. Not that I did that often, I’m far too polite most of the time…but I can’t help but find it rewarding when I get to shout at ASDA staff and refuse to serve them knowing if the shoe was on the other foot they would be professionally obliged to tolerate a certain level of rudeness from me. Also I get to have some revenge for all the shite customer service I received whenever I am there.

It is the little victories which make me smile sometimes.

PS:

I’m not sure if you are aware of the song first recorded by Richard Harris entitled: ‘MacArthur Park.’ It is infamous for both its ridiculous length and lyrics, but also notable because of a rather funky disco cover by Donna Summer. However these lines from the chorus were particularly appropriate.

“Someone left a cake out in the rain

I don’t think that I can take it

Because it took so long to bake it

And I’ll never have that recipe again

Oh NOOOOOOOO!”

Not entirely sure what the metaphor of the cake is meant to mean, perhaps it stands for a relationship that has gone all wrong. However these lyrics were appropriate for me in a very literal sense, although it didn’t involve rain and I still have the recipe.

Alas after all my preparation for the ultimate Christmas cake, I mixed and baked the thing, it smelt wonderful, only to burn my finger when taking it out of the oven (tea towels aren’t enough….I must invest in oven gloves!) and my wonderful rich, dark and moist cake exploded on the floor. It almost brought a tear to my eye. This was only made worse when Mum then walked in, saw the aborted cake all over the floor and then had to sit down due to a hysterical fit of laughter. Anyway, I made a replacement and I now have two safely stored away, they are all wrapped up and are currently ‘maturing’ waiting to be and iced closer to the 25^th of next month.

PPS:

It is definately worth a listen...if only for comedy value. There is also a Werid Al Yankovich parody which is rather good.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=GHS8hj4TdT8

Rich, Dark and Moist

2008-11-07T03:05:45Z

I’ve been making Christmas cake. I stole a recipe off Delia Smith; she promised it would be a ‘rich, dark and quite moist.’ For me personally, a Christmas cake is not a true Christmas cake unless it is very rich, very dark and very moist. When you bite into it for the first time, the first thing you should loudly exclaim to all in ear shot is “Ooo, it’s so very rich and really moist…and look how dark it is.” Moistness if of course one of the most vital feature of any good cake, if a cake was not moist it would be a biscuit. Being it’s a Christmas cake, it has to be rich. When else are you going to let you hair down and, more importantly, your belly bulge out if not at Christmas? You want the sweetest most delicious cake possible…and with booze in it God damn it! And it has to be dark because…well…erm…it just does, if not only to create a visual contrast with the pure white icing.

When I’d finished all the measuring and mixing (after allowing the fruit to soak in brandy all the previous night) and the cake was finally ready after 4 hours in the oven, once it had cooled I was very naughty and took a little of the cake out from underneath it, so no one would notice. I know I was meant to let it mature and ‘feed’ it Brandy every so often in the run up to Christmas…but it was my first attempt at such a time consuming and expensive to make cake. I needed to make sure it tasted alright rather than leave it till Christmas and be disappointed.

Well even without tasting it I could see it was not very dark, and when I did it was indeed moist and rich…but not moist and rich enough. I want to match the quality, the darkness, the moistness and richness of the delicious iced cakes sold by shops such as M&S. No, in fact I want to surpass that!

So I’m trying another tomorrow, I have loads of fruit left over so I won’t have to spend anymore money. I’ve got a different recipe that asks for the darkest sugar, black treacle and Guinness, to give it that dark colour I demand of my cake. I’m going to be a little more generous with the spices and citrus zest. I’m going to use a VSOP Brandy and not worry about my liver! I want to bite into this unholy-mother of a cake on the 25^th December and be half cut. I want my mouth to burn with cinnamon, ginger, caraway and nutmeg. I want to finish the tiniest slice of this cake and before I’ve scrapped the last sultana from the roof of my mouth with my tongue be a in a diabetic coma. I want it to look, smell, taste and even sound good…not sure yet how it can sound good…unless its from the orgasmic like moaning of those eating the cake.

If I am not dead by the night of the 25^th December 2008 due to a combination of me swallowing my own tongue whilst in a diabetic coma and from the shock of the sheer awesome and intense darkness, richness and moistness of my Christmas cake…I have failed.

If I do die, my final wish is to be buried with the remainder of the cake, but don’t worry dear friends, it’s a Christmas cake remember…it will keep for ages.

And you doubted me...

2008-11-03T03:45:15Z

...oh ye of little faith.

After such an extensive absence, detailing the events of the past months would be time consuming, and not particularly interesting to type or read. So here are the highlights:

I saw Les Miserables for the fist time, and now gets all those ‘24601’ references.
Went to the Cadbury Chocolate factory and found that there is a gap in the confectionary market which can be filled with Wine Gums coated in Milk Chocolate…seriously!
Decided that every time Piers Morgan pens an article or opens his mouth it is a crime against humanity.
Started a calorie control diet, and can now fit back into my old brown suit, which means I am now at a 2005 fat level…which is still slightly fat, but I’m more comfortable wearing jumpers without jackets to hide my jelly like bulk. This has also led to the purchase of more jumpers of many different colours, including 4 shades of green.
I bought a mountain bike (with a view to aid weight loss combined with the above) and I have taken to secretly riding on the local BMX track late in the evening and during school hours so I am not disturbed in the total joy of going fast down hills; I also don’t wear a helmet because I’m hardcore.
Decided that certain TV chefs say fuck far too often, thus reducing its effect as way to emphasise how vital you only use Sicilian lemons when adding that all important zest to Mediterranean pan fried monkfish.
I laughed really hard at the scene in Lethal Weapon 2 when the cop who isn't Mel Gibson is in the South African Consulate with Joe Pesci and exclaims loudly "Free South Africa you dumb son of a bitch." I also saw Reservoir Dogs for the first time, but I still like Pulp Fiction better.

That pretty much covers all the really important stuff, but in addition to that I also graduated from University, where you get to pay for wearing a stupid hat and have your photograph taken with a piece of plastic resembling a rolled up degree certificate. I wouldn’t have minded so much if you got handed the actual thing at the ceremony, but no, you have to wait another three weeks for that to arrive in the post; at least at secondary school at Prize Evening you were given your actual certificate by some local businessman or MP. But on reflection, all those 100% attendance certificates and other things from school are total bollocks and worth nothing, all that show was that you were a boffin at school and was sad enough to take pride in being there every day of your sexless and spotty adolescene; your degree actually opens doors for you. I just wish that was at the forefront of my mind this time last year.

…and also…(sorry, just still a little bitter about the whole thing)… the Keele University chancellor wasn’t even someone famous, Emma had frigging Floella Benjamin shake her hand, and Big David had Richard Attenborough. My little brother will even have a better graduation ceremony than me; he has just started a course at Winchester and gets to have his at the bloody Cathedral. Bloody Winchester Cathedral! Instead of a cramped multipurpose chapel were you are given the seat number ‘5 and a half’ and are forced to squeeze between two other ridiculous hat wearing people you vaguely recognise from the Union or that 1st year seminar, therefore causing a ripple effect which upsets the entire seating plan causing everyone sitting at the end of a row having to move to another...

...and it rained.

You’re pretty much bang up to date; I’m still with Alex and am still doing shifts at the local working men’s club (I was no doubt somone evil in a past life, I would say Piers Morgan but alas, he is still among us...and I'll let you decide which one of those situations led me to that conclusion). As for actually getting a real job I’ve started the application process for doing a PGCE, but obviously won’t be blogging about that in any way shape or form. Rest assured concerned reader, JMAK is still alive and still enjoys the odd Gin and Tonic.

Ahem...

2008-05-17T01:36:09Z

Coming soon, to a friend's page near you.

The return of JMAK!

Summer 2008

"I have one thing to say...you better work, bitch"

2008-03-19T12:06:48Z

Even if I were to give the most extensive and detailed of recaps for the past few weeks, it would consist of one long, boring list of days in the library, and evenings tapping away on a keyboard. Absolutely nothing...and I mean nothing...of any significance as occurred outside of my dissertation work, and there was nothing really very significant included in my dissertation work. I hated the module, I have grown to hate History and I fucking absolutely, positively detest referencing and footnotes. “Oh that source was written in 1993 not 1983? Well I’ll just go through the whole damn thing changing the date...oh no wait, it was 1993 after all! Who cares...does anybody really care...what’s a decade in the grand scheme of things? This is History we are talking about here, decades are nothing...oh and I’ve misspelt the authors name too, well what’s in a fucking name anyway, fuck off and take your pissing 8000 to 12,000 words with you...and shove WebCT up your arse too.”

Still, now that it is all over (and I’ve taken some Valium) I feel much better (well when I say all over, I mean almost over, only one more politics essay and three exams in April left). Although it has only just struck me how little of my University life is left, my last ever taught seminar is tomorrow morning, my last ever two contact hours. Wow, my last ever seminar...it’s difficult to comprehend, it is in my opinion a significant watershed. Back in September 2005, it seemed so distant, but now tomorrow morning I’ll actually be in bed missing my last ever seminar.

Hmmm...although maybe as it is my last seminar ever, ever, ever I should probably make the effort and drag myself in, just to round off my 3 years of contact hours nicely. Where does the time go? Easter being ridiculously early this year hasn’t helped I suppose…it has left less time this term for missing seminars and last minute essay writing. Still a little intense pressure and stress never hurt anyone, well, except people that had heart conditions in the first place…but I suppose it builds character. Yes, it builds a character that knows he can withstand the stress and stupidly puts himself through it every bloody time. Oh yes…he writes out a nice work timetable, and he has the full intention of sticking to it, but its just like every New Years Resolution, give it a few days you’ll be stuffing your face with Cadbury’s chocolate, biting your nails and sodding about on You Tube laughing at clips from Monty Python* and messing about with Sonic the Hedgehog fan-games and ROM hacks.

Its quite a pathetic state of affairs, still the end result is probably only marginally different from what it would be if I took more time. I suppose if I could go back to September 2005 and do it all again, I’d hope that I would take more care and time in my work...still, if I’m going back in time anyway, it would probably be possible to take back a memory/stick flash drive thingy with all my essays from my three years at Keele with me...which would mean that I could be even more relaxed the second time around.

Anyway, I think I’m going to get some sleep. TTFN

*

Learning the PIANO!!!

Say What?

2008-02-28T22:14:45Z

Prince Harry

Just said ‘Shit,’ ‘Poo,’ ‘Crap,’ and ‘Slagged Off’

On national television

On the BBC News

What is the world coming too?

Next we will be eating human flesh and fucking everything in sight.

A Week of Work and KUSU Elections Stuff

2008-02-27T14:38:31Z

I am a week into my last ditch attempt to salvage my degree, and I’ve managed to achieve the quota of work, and a dash extra, on all days. Although I will have to make up for it this evening as I did very little yesterday and nothing this morning. I’m actually in a position to write one of my essays, which is an academic first for me because I usually end up doing essays in the last week, and even on occasion in the last day and hours before a deadline. Such a destructive and dangerous habit, why am I only breaking it so late in my University life? I do admire people who can get their work done so early and are not as susceptible to procrastination ...there is a term for it people like that...oh yeah...'bitch.'

The main reason I did not get much done yesterday because I talked myself into not going to the library because there was a SRC that evening (when I was in there yesterday there was one person behind the book shelf who kept on sniffing and sneezing...it was getting on my nerves), a pitiful reason really. Thankfully SRC did not drag on too long, and I also witnessed something I never thought I would ever see. Tory Boy O managed to propose one and second another motion (they were the only two discussed at the meeting) and they actually passed, one with a very comfortable majority. I had to check the weather reports when I got back to see if hell had indeed frozen over. Can it be that his signature on a motion or his speaking in favour of it is no longer the kiss of death? What a shame that this is also happening so late in his University life.

Generally things have been rather dull recently, although we have had three fire alarms in the past month...although they weren’t so much exciting, more annoying. One was caused, I suspect, by someone smoking in their room...no doubt the sock they put over the smoke detector fell off. I only say this because the alarm was triggered in a bedroom (the room number was embarrassingly shouted out so the legal occupier could be identified) and the person who meekly walked back into the building with everyone’s scornful eyes following him to be told off my Keele security I have seen on many occasions smoking outside the doors. It was a particularly cold night that night (hence why everyone had scornful eyes and was ready to lynch the smoking bastard) and I would wager he took the risk of smoking in his room than brace the harsh and bitter weather outside.

Another case solved...surely it will be the jewel in the crown of my personal detective career.

KUSU elections have also been going on these past weeks. The reason I’ve not blogged about those much as I have in previous years is because whoever is elected it doesn’t affect me too much as I won’t be around. Although I do have two firm favourites I want to win and I really hope they will, at the very least, get a decent number of votes. Every single year my first choices never won (except once, because as I said at the time, us slightly overweight homosexuals have to stick together...although even he lost out the second time round). I remember being so disappointed, even if it doesn’t signal the end of the Union as me and some others embarrassingly and wrongly said in previous years...still if they don’t win tonight, I’ll still feel that a great injustice as occurred, because I am confident that they are the best and it annoys me when others don’t recognise that. I still think they should choose Sabbs by some other means...maybe a wine taste off or something like that...on the other hand, you might get some piss head ending up selected...ha!...as if that hasn't happened before or isn't likely to happen again.

Saying that no one this year did appallingly at the Hustings (well maybe one did...poor bastard didn’t have a clue). All the same no one said something so stupid it disgusted me...like saying they believe in aliens, or that getting more women more women involved in politics would be helped by having a handsome Sabbatical officer in charge of Democracy.

The elections also mean that Alex in his role on CAC has been consumed by them and is leaving early in the mornings and coming back late in the evenings...although I’m not the only one complaining that their ‘man’ is paying KUSU more attention then they are us. almostcanon has also suffered with her significant other as returning officer...we are both the official KUSU Election WAGs or rather BAGs (Boyfriends and Girlfriends) except we are not stick thin bitches who are rich and glamorous...yet

Anyway, that’s all for now. Good night Keele, we love you.

PS: Earthquake? What Earthquake?

Trying to be First Class

2008-02-19T13:43:13Z

I still exist...

Yesterday I was working out what I would need to achieve in order to get a 1st in my degree. After working out the classification system and my aggregate mark so far (incidentally all that information was quite difficult to find on the Keele website, their website search engine is total wank), and doing some good old fashioned pencil and paper maths, I came to the conclusion that if I get mark of 70 and above in all my remaining modules, then I will get a 1st overall, even after my tremendous cock ups last year. (I did double check with a calculator before you question my math abilities.)

On the plus side, it seems I can afford to get a few 2.2 results this year and still get a 2.1 at graduation.

So I’m at a crossroads, do I work extra hard and at least attempt for a 1st, or do I carry on as I am, safe in the knowledge that I’m in safe 2.1 territory.

Of course getting a 1st in all my remaining modules is virtually impossible, being realistic, especially in my abysmally boring History module. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t aspire to that goal.

So I’ve set myself a number of personal deadlines and targets, from today until 15th March I have a quota of work I need to get done every single day. I think that if I stick to the plan, I’ll at least be in with in a shot of getting a 1st, and if a miracle happens, I might just do it. But it really will take a miracle, being that marks of 70 and above are few and far between in my collection of results, although I’ve come close on the odd occasion. In essays especially, I always seem to miss that extra something to push me over the edge.

Still, it’s a positive aspiration, and there is no reason I shouldn’t try.

There is a reason why I’m telling you this however. The reason is that it might encourage me further to stick to my plan for fear of being mocked and having this entry thrown back in my face.

Although as a slight aside: If I can still get a 1st even after my massive cock ups last year...and some average results from last term, what does that say about the quality of my degree?

Hmmmm...

The Internet has gone too far this time

2008-02-01T12:34:35Z

Pinch Punch!

What better way to start the month of February than with a post including a ego-masturbation type meme which requires no real effort on my part.

1. Name:
2. Birthday:
3. Where do you live:
4: What are you studying/What are you working as:
5. What makes you happy:
6. What are you listening to now/have listened to last:
7. What is particularly good/bad about my LJ:
8. An interesting fact about you:
9. Favourite place to be:
10. Favourite lyric:
11. Best time of the year:
12. Weirdest food you like:

RECOMMEND
1. A film:
2. A book:
3. A song:
4: A band:

PLUS
1. One thing you like about me:
2. Two things you like about yourself:
3. Put this in your lj so I can tell you what I think of you.

I nicked this off tli

Oh ok, fine, I suppose I’ll do a little update.

My two new politics modules seem fun this term, ‘The Extreme Right in Western Europe’ (aka...how the Nazis made a final bid for Western Europe) the and ‘The Politics of Radical Protest’(aka...why lefty hippies and lesbians get pissed off about things and decide to organise petitions and go on marches). So once again this academic year the politics half becomes far more interesting than the history half of my degree. History is the same module as last year, only with a slightly different focus but is still total wank.

Oh, and last Friday I ended up at the gay club AGAIN because it was the birthday of almostcanon. I had a fabulous night, but three nights in a row gaying it up is enough...so I am most definitely staying in this evening (apart from Future Friday of course) .

The only other note worthy part of the week was Tuesday. I gave Chris a call as it had been ages since we had spoke, and just as we were hanging up he said I had to type ‘two girls one cup’ into Google. He wouldn't tell me why, or what it was...just that I really had to see this video. So not having much else to do, I obliged. The results at the top of the page were YouTube videos such as this:

Not really understanding what was going on, I took a look around to see what I could find out. After doing some quick research, I discovered that a popular thing last year among You Tube users was to post videos of people’s reactions watching the original and apparently infamous Two Girls One Cup video. There are hundreds of them all over You Tube (incidentally, the one embedded here is for my money, the funniest of the bunch...gays can provide so much hilarity). Well after seeing the above video and a host of others, how could I not seek out the original, apparently disgusting video, which started off this craze?

Well curiosity didn’t kill to cat, but it certainly brought him close to being physically sick.

I implore you not to seek it out. The only reason I have posted about this here isn’t because I want to tempt you, but because it has indeed been a significant part of my week. I have never been more disgusted by moving images than I was when I saw the original video...which is significant enough for me to post about.

But on the opposite side, I have never laughed so hard in a long time than I have recently. Watching the reaction videos has caused me to experience pain from laughing so much...they may be cheap, simple laughs, but I don’t care, they really made me feel better after the horror of seeing the actual thing.

Really...DONT WATCH THE ORIGINAL...and don't blame me if you do.

Intoxicated Cinematics

2008-01-20T15:35:37Z

Last night was an interesting experience.

History Girl sent me an IM asking if wanted to go see Sweeny Todd at the cinema in Newcastle. Having nothing else to do (which is, I know, quite sad for a Saturday night), and there being a distinct lack of our Caffeine and Cake dates in recent weeks, I was most obliged.

However not wanting to watch a film on an empty stomach, we decided to have a bite somewhere, and ended up in some curry house. I’m not the biggest fan of Indian cuisine, but I can get by, and I was rather safe/boring and only ordered a tikka masala dish (as did History Girl) and we ordered a Naan bread to share. Two surprises were in store for us.

One: the curry was a lot hotter than we both expected, definitely spicier than the usual tikka masala you might find in supermarket ready meals, it made me cry and my nose run...which was most undignified.
Two: the Naan bread was bigger than the Elephant Man’s face.

Anyway, after that we walked down to the cinema only to find that the 8pm showing was sold out, and the next showing was at 11pm. We decided to wait in town for the later showing and ended up in everyone’s favourite Newcastle watering hold...Revolution. Maybe having one too many cocktails and flavoured vodka shots, we realised that we would now being watching the film whilst a little tipsy, something I had never done before. (I also remember bumping into Tory Boy D and his fencing pals and me and HG yelling his name at him to get his attention...he gave us both a strange look)

So around 10.30pm we wandered down to the cinema again (I bought a bottle of mineral water) and we took our seats. Looking around, and noticing people constantly getting up from their seats to presumable use the toilets during the film, I think many people did the same as me and History girl...they tried to get into the 8 o’clock showing, found it was sold out, went to a bar/pub, got tipsy, went to see film whilst tipsy and their bladder full.

Unfortunately some people went a little too far, and apparently someone was sick outside the screen doors, and while I was in the toilet there someone in the cubical, barely able to stand up, his head hanging over the bowl making some gut wrenching sounds.

Although maybe I am being a bit hasty, maybe it wasn’t drink causing these people to be sick...maybe it was the awful, awful ‘songs’ in his rather gory and macabre musical. They were awful, and generally the film, in my opinion, wasn’t much better.

First of all, why does everyone go crazy for Johnny Depp? I just don’t get it, he is not as hot as everyone makes out and his acting if fine, good, maybe even excellent...but not so amazing it should cause this entire hullabaloo whenever a new film of his is released. Everyone treats him like some sort of motion picture messiah, all he does his wear tinted glasses and have messy hair...big whoop!

Visually the film was stunning, the use of colours and the general atmosphere was excellent, but they were the best features of the film. There were a number of loose ends left to hang at the end and the plot was sloppy. Although having done some research (albeit on Wikipedia) I understand the film’s story is very flexible and takes has taken number of different forms throughout the years. I still felt though that the story was rushed and there wasn’t even one memorable song from the entire thing...which means as a musical, it was wank.

Then again, maybe being tipsy did not render me the best film critic...I may give it a second chance once it is out on DVD (which I will borrow, it’s not worthy buying in any case.) Next time I go to the cinema however, I will go sober so that I don’t miss anything by having to use the bathroom and might be in a better state of mind to judge it

...still, it was fun.

A Funny Thing Happened on the way Home from the Gay Club

2008-01-19T15:16:45Z

Being the total fag that I am, I went to the Gay Club last night, which was the second Friday in a row. Does that make me a ‘scene queen?’ No, no, it doesn’t, but it does make me a sucker for £10 entry, free bar and dance worthy music. Last Friday I had loads of fun. Me, Alex, Tory Boy P, Lisa and my old colleague from the vodka bar Mark came along. TB P and I really enjoyed ourselves, not to say that the others didn’t, but the music that was playing were what some would call ‘choons.’ The others did not share our music taste and were getting tired, so as a result, me and TB P ended up leaving earlier then we would have liked, which in fairness was rather late anyway around 2am or so.

It was the first time TB P had been to the Club and I think it made an impression on him. As sexually straight as Peter is, his taste in music and many other things is what some would call gay, but in a gay club he can sing and dance to such music to his hearts content and no one will judge him...to an extent, it must have been very liberating for him.

So yesterday was going to be a quiet night in with the TV. I was one of the 12.5million viewers that watched Vera Duckworth die on Coronation Street...it was rubbish, she didn’t even get stabbed or attacked and pecked to death by Jack’s pigeons. But Peter rang suggesting we go out, and he knew of some others going to the Club, almostcanon and her pals. So I decided it would be better to fag it up rather than stay in a watch Jonathon Ross.

However when we got there Peter was eager to dance right away, while I personally need a bit more time in order to relax (i.e. drink many a Gin and Tonic to destroy my inhibitions). So the night was largely awkward for me until I had reached a certain point; and at that point I stopped drinking, being I am responsible young man. TB P, who gets wasted if he only smells alcohol, didn’t stop at a sensible point...but I’m not going to judge him, he was having fun.

Anyway as the night went on the music this Friday was getting too cheesy for me taste, and I like cheese, but I like good solid mature cheddar disco 80s cheese, not Britney Spears, S Club 7 Dutch Edam cheese. So I decided to make a night of it around 2.45am and TB P left with me. We got a taxi back and we dropped TB P off in Silverdale first, then taxi then took me on to Keele.

It was that trip in the taxi from Silverdale to Keele which thinking back seems almost so ridiculous I wonder if I imagined it. As soon a Tory Boy P got out the car, the taxi driver started chatting to me...which I hate, I can not abide making small talk with taxi drivers, in fact whether I tip taxi drivers or not depends on their silence.

First off I should explain that, like many of the late night mini cab drivers in the Stoke area, he was an Asian fellow, maybe from Pakistan, I’m not sure. He was definitely in his 30s, if not his 40s, rather chubby...although I did not get a good look at his face, only the back of his head...his English was not perfect but passable.

He asking all the usual things mini cab drivers ask at first, about if I had a good night, do I study at Keele, what subject etc, etc.

He then started asking whether I was looking for or found any ‘pussy’ on my night out. Politely I said I wasn’t and didn't...he then said “why not...you don’t like pussy?” I then fobbed him off with an answer that I was busy with studying and “didn’t have time for all that kind of thing.” But he kept going on about girls and pussy that I just ended up saying quite clearly that I did not like ‘pussy,’ as we seemed to be going round in circles (the conversation that is, not the car) and it was starting to annoy me.

“Ohhh...so you’re a...erm....I mean you like men eh?”

Now when he first started asking about girls, I suppose the most direct way to answer would be to say I was gay...but I had no idea who this person was, he could have been some insane homophobe would might kill me for all I knew...or something equally as horrible. But in the end I was forced to say I “liked men” to shut him up. Also being a little tipsy I did not seriously consider that he might be some gay hating Muslim who would launch into an angry speech about how evil I was, things however when entirely in the opposite direction.

“Yeah I like men”
"You like sex with men"
"I suppose"
“Oh was that your boyfriend?” (sorry P)
“No, just a friend”
“Do you have boyfriend?”
“Yeah”
“Where is he?”
“Away for the weekend visiting his grandparents”
“Ahh, so while he is away you out looking for men yes?”
“No, I was just out with friends.”
“Why not? You did not see nice men while you out?”
“Not really, but I was not looking for men”
“Why? Your boyfriend is away, he won’t know”
“Well I am not like that”
“Oh...because if you like you can suck my dick if you want?”

“......”

“Or I suck you???”
“Ermmm...no...that’s ok thanks”
“I have nice big dick” (I'm not sure, but I think he said his dick was also clean, as if that would persuade me)
“No really, I’m ok, I have a boyfriend”
“Ok”
“Just here on the right thanks”

It was perhaps the most disturbing thing ever to have happened to me.

And no, he did not get a tip...of any kind.

Taking a break form not writing essays to tell you 3 things

2008-01-06T21:59:59Z

One: It is mine and Alex’s first anniversary today...big woop! Wanna fight about it?

Two: Essays and work timetables conspired against us thus our first anniversary is rubbish.

Three: I now own all but one of Kate Bush’s albums...I am one album away from becoming a Kate Bush super fan. I love Bush!

8000 Words till Freedom?

2008-01-05T23:25:58Z

I have approximately 8000 words worth of essays in for Wednesday 9th (unusually for this year, these essays are on interesting topics...civil defence in Britain during the Cold War and communist successor parties in Hungary and the Czech Republic if you must know...well I say interesting, they are interesting to me, and that’s what counts. Actually they are interesting, I’m making no apologies for them, and if you personally don’t find them interesting, then it is in fact you who is boring.)

In classic JMAK style I have yet to put finger to keyboard, although I feel quite confident about the whole thing, I have all my notes and a rough plan for both. This does mean however that the next few days are going to be excruciatingly painful; I enjoy the research and reading part of essays, but the actual typing is boring, tiresome and lengthy. This is why my dissertation scares me, and what is even worse about that, I’m not even remotely interested in my dissertation topic (which I do keep going on about I know, but I just want to make that point crystal clear).

This also means that the retrospective post about 2007 I promised will have to be delayed. Not that you’re at all bothered, but I thought I’d just let you know.

Not much has gone on recently apart from essay preparations. I did go out with History Girl the other night, but town was empty (and artic like) and I had no money to spend on vodka shots and cocktails so we ended up coming home early. Both Tory Boy D and History Boy have returned to the flat today, and I also washed my towels...

Yep...it’s all typical student hedonism and randomness round here.

Maybe when the essay/exam period is out the way things might get even more exciting, although this is unlikely, and that is partly my own fault...then again, isn't the 3rd year meant to be all work and no play?

Into 2008

2008-01-01T19:18:57Z

Boo!

Ha!...didn’t expect to see me on your friends list did you?

Yes, it has been a while. If this blog is to be considered some sort of commentary on my life, then I have been dead for the past month. When I look back on these pages in the distant future, perhaps trying to recall my student days, and notice this rather large gap, I wonder if I will remember anything from December? I could make up some fanciful lie to explain my blogging absence, something like that December 2007 was similar to the 1960s, if you remember it - you weren’t there. Alas drug induced orgies will not be the reason for not being able to recall the past month, the real reason was a distinct lack of anything interesting or significant happening (bar the days leading up to Christmas and New Years eve of course) which perhaps explains why there have been no updates...so when I do look back through this journal and notice December 2007 missing, I hopefully I’ll remember that there was nothing worth remembering.

Although I do recall two things which should be noted:
Tory Christmas events were shite
History was and still is shite

Christmas this year was annoying. My Grandmother did not want to come to our house for Christmas dinner because our house has stairs....so she was insistent on staying at her flat where she and my bachelor uncle spent the day. So it was just me and my brothers and parents...no visit from or to aunties and uncles. This suited my father fine, as he is getting more and more anti-social with age...and this also suited my mum who doesn’t care for Christmas much and was glad she didn’t have to play hostess. I was a little bitter; because for me personally Christmas is a family holiday and if you don’t have your family around you then it simply isn’t Christmas, so not having the extended clan around the house and especially Grandmas absence dampened down the festive spirit for me.

The only real highlight was that we all managed to convince my younger brother Tommy that ‘Father Christmas’ was not going to be able to bring him a Nintendo Wii because they were sold out everywhere…and he seemed ok with that, slightly disappointed, but ok, and Mum promised to help him buy one in the New Year. So when he did unwrap the Wii Christmas morning it gave everyone lots of pleasure to see him so ecstatically happy.

Dinner was brilliant; I was roped into helping prepare food and for the first time in a long, long time the Turkey wasn’t dry...coincidence? I think not! Obviously Turkey basting is one of my hidden talents. Then afterwards Mum and me drank champagne all night and watched Christmas telly and DVDs with everyone else.

New Years Eve was lovely, one of the best I’ve experienced (anything beats last year when I was working at the Cocktail Bar and spent the first hours of 2007 sweeping up cigarette butts and cleaning ash trays) Alex talked me in to spending it up at Keele rather than staying in Dixie, where I probably would have ended up working at the Working Mans Club.

I saw in the New Year round David T’s house in Hawthorns (which for student accommodation is amazing, it had a front room, large kitchen and an upstairs) which was a stones throw from my old accommodation, Prisoner Cell Block D. David with his boyfriend and Tory Boy O hosted a rather wonderful party, with excellent food and drink...it was relaxed and elegant, a near perfect evening. I enjoyed it immensely, surrounded by lovely people and friends, what a great way to say goodbye to a magnificent and eventful year. Time flew by, a true indicator that I was having fun, when it was midnight it only felt like it was 10pm or so and when I looked at my watch and saw it was 3am I could hardly believe it.

I woke up this morning with a horrible headache, and I don’t remember drinking that much. A sherry to start off the evening, a few double Gin and Tonics, and maybe 5 glasses of champagne and/or Bucks Fizz...and I ate a large lunch before I came out and ate at the party. I must be getting old, because I’m pretty sure a few years back that wouldn’t have been a problem and I would have woke up fine. I didn’t feel too drunk when I got home, but when I woke up around 11.30am I felt awful. I went back to sleep, and woke again at 2.30 and felt much better. Alex had no sympathy for my hang over, but of all the mornings when having a hang over is acceptable and understandable, and then surely it is the morning on 1st January.

Anyway, that was JMAK’s festive season...now it is back to work. I would blog about 2007 as a whole, but I’m saving that for a more significant date in the near future.

TTFN and Happy New Year
xxx

The Chav Town, Free Vodka and the Drunken Magician

2007-11-24T14:08:50Z

Myself, Alex and Tory Boyz O and P went to Revolution in Newcastle on Wednesday evening, there was a special event hosted by the bar to launch their Christmas Party menus. Me and Alex arrived early as usual; Alex appears to have this fear of being late and ultimately over compensates and leaves so much earlier than is necessary, which always means we end up for things ridiculously early, which then means we end up wandering around like tramps. Usually this would annoy the hell out of me, however this time it all worked out quite nicely. We were due to met O and P at 7.30pm and arrived a little before 7pm, just in time for the turning on of the Christmas lights.

I’m not sure if they got a ‘celebrity’ to do the honours but when the lights came on (the lights themselves being total wank, I could hardly tell the difference when they did pull the switch except that most of the trees now had a slight blueish glow to them) the best thing was the firework display to accompany them. It lasted around 5-10 minutes and was never far from being spectacular; although I was a bit jumpy myself as I felt the colourful explosions were a little too close for comfort, you could feel firework rocket debris and ash falling on you as they burst above our heads. I’ve always been a bit jumpy about fireworks since that one Bonfire Night a few years ago when the Catherine Wheel fell of the fence and started spraying white hot fire in all directions, and then later one of the Roman candles fell over and shot one firework into the kitchen and it bounced around everywhere hitting my Mum on the leg and finally landing in dads slipper, which it then set on fire...my Dad was a rubbish at doing fireworks, I'm amazed me and my brothers are all still able to see and don't have huge burn scars on our faces (well, except the one I have already)...

Newcastle had a carnival atmosphere for the rest of the evening, there were funfair rides down the high street, most of the shops had stayed open for business and most seemed to be doing good trade. There was also a little children’s parade and pipers marching around the place. It was quite pleasant to walk around with Alex and take it all in, especially as I had completely forgotten all this was going on that evening.

The only problem was that the place was absolutely crawling with... well... local kids, who all seemed to be chavs. Obviously there were kids going to be around, the whole event was for the benefit of children. But the teenagers took to roaming around the streets in gangs, although packs would be a more appropriate term to use, howling and yelling like wild animals. Community Support Officers were everywhere too, but even that did not stop a fight breaking out outside Wilkinsons. Another fight broke out up the road where M&S and all the mobile shops are; I’m not sure what happened but loads of chavs ran up to road when they saw something kicking off...and all the chavs who saw them running then followed suit, and before you knew it was like a gold rush had broken out with hundreds of tracksuit and baseball cap wearing kids running down this road...it was either a fight and everyone wanted a piece of the action, a gold rush, or the book shop was handing out free permanent marker pens.

Anyway, soon after O and P turned up and we were shown upstairs in Revolution where we were given a free glass of champagne, well I say champagne...having previously worked for the company this particular sparkling white wine is known among staff as ‘Château-de-Shit,’ is quite sweet and was in fact the wine that was sprayed all over me Formula One style when I left Revolution this Summer...so not really the best stuff available.

However we were given a free platter of party food (the goats cheese and the crispy duck spring rolls were to die for...ZOMG!) and we also got a little education in Vodka tasting. Me and TB O tasted 4 different kinds of vodka, Alex and TB P whimped out (although TB P did try more than one, but was driving, so he had an excuse I suppose). We were told about how each particular vodka was made and what it was flavoured with and taught how to drink it properly, which involved moving it around in the glass, smelling it, sipping a little bit, and then downing it. In all honesty every single one was absolutely horrible. I knew I wouldn’t like it, since I hate Vodka straight, I hate it with a passion. But I’m proud I tried each one...at least now I can safely confirm that Vodka is vile, regardless of whether or not it was made with potatoes and flavoured with honey, or that there is a bit of lemon grass floating in the bottle.

There was also a chocolate fountain, and before you go jumping to conclusions, I can proudly say I was very restrained and only visited it once, and even then I only had two marshmallows and one strawberry.

The evening was turning out to be rather agreeable, we all seemed happy enough and relaxed, but when it was the time for the ‘magician’ to do his stand up spot, things turned rather sour. The magician, who was the poor mans version of Derren Brown, had been at our table earlier in the evening and did a card trick with Tory Boy P, and he was totally professional, quick witted and obviously concentrating on the trick. Not two hours later he got up on a table and screamed at everyone to “shut the fuck up” as he was about to do his “routine.” The bloke was obviously smashed, intoxicated to such a degree that he had to lean on the wall for support and would say things like “pick a card *hick* any card, and show me but not the audience...erm...” and when he came to the climax of his trick it was even worse “and I can reveal that your card was the 6 of diamonds, am I right?...what...shit...erm...hang on”

It was like watching a train wreck, only towards the end of his act did he decide to apologise for being “fucked,” as if I was not blatantly obvious. Although to his credit he did manage to pull off one psychological trick in true Derren Brown form. He showed one lady from the party earlier in the evening a number of items, including an OXO Cube, a tea bag, a potato, and something else which was very loosely related to astronomy (I forget exactly what it was). He then asked her to write the name of a famous person on a piece of paper and she then sealed it in an envelope. In the act he took each item, and said the person the lady has thought of was Isaac Newton. He then went on to explain how the potato in French is called the ‘apple of the earth’ and how the OXO Cube and the Tea Bag make 'gravy-tea.' She then opened the envelope and the lady had indeed written Isaac Newton as her choice of someone famous. If he has got that trick wrong, then I’m sure he would have been booed off the table amongst a shower of chocolate covered marshmallows and free spring rolls.

We left soon after; the drunken magician had killed the buzz somewhat.

Standing Up for the Dancing Boy.

2007-11-18T17:31:32Z

I don’t know what possessed me but I ended up accompanying Alex to see Walsall FC play again. Game was really dull, 0-0 draw, and it was so bloody cold I spend most of the game with my collar up, sheltering from the bitter and sharp wind in my coat. However we did meet up with his brother before hand; I had met him before when he came to Keele to visit Alex and liked him, but I sensed coldness from him this time around. Probably all in my imagination, although if there was some weird atmosphere I can understand why, I suppose it’s that same situation when older brothers get protective of their younger sister...maybe.

Anyway, as boring as the actual game was, there were some moments of excitement off the pitch. A group of the away fans all rushed outside towards the end probably to have a mini-riot; and the dancing boy, who I mentioned in a previous entry, caused a bit of a stir.

The dancing boy got up to do his usual routine, running around the pitch, taking off his shirt and swinging it around, running on the spot...all the usual bits, in order to get the crowd going. As usual the home fan crowd mostly responded with a mixture of laughing and cheering. Cheering so as to not hurt the boy’s feelings, but at the same time laughing at him, hopefully at his innocence, but more than likely at how ridiculous he was. As before, I felt a little uneasy with the whole thing.

However something rather wonderful happened. I heard a huge vocal uproar from the crowd, at first I though it was because of a bad decision by the referee (and there were plenty of those, even me, a complete Football novice could tell). However something was happening down by the side of the pitch. The redundant security staff, probably for health and safety reasons, tried to stop the dancing boy for running round and dancing.

Well the crowd when mental, loads of them stood up screaming at the security staff “You miserable bastards!” and “Leave the Kid alone!” The security staff looked into the crowd, most of them now pointing and yelling at them, I could it in their eyes when the penny dropped, and they realised what a mistake they had made.
They had picked on the unofficial mascot, and they soon realised that the dancing retard boy, had become an untouchable, Walsall FC royalty; and if they were going to mess with him, they were going to have to mess with a very large and vocal section of the home fans. The security blokes backed off, totally emasculated...and the dancing retard, now being hailed with applause and cheers of joy, did his little dance and waved his t-shirt around his head; and some of the crowd went down to the front of the stands in solidarity, and joined him in his dance.

I now understand why they call it the beautiful game, it was a touching moment.

In other news:
I’ve done my first essay of the academic year, a 2000 word piece on Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the creator of Pakistan. I’m not at all happy with it as an essay, but it doesn’t really matter as the grade I get for the essay doesn’t count for anything and is merely meant to show the tutor how I’m doing...although when I go to her office for feedback I shan’t be looking forward to it.
It has also started to snow here on Keele Hill, although as it has been raining all morning the snow has not settled, which is a shame.

PS:

If you laugh, especially at the bit when he goes "Rraaawwww!!!" you're going to hell.

Whizz - Bang - Crackle

2007-11-05T17:16:15Z

Well it’s Bonfire Night again, celebrating the 402nd anniversary of the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, where a load of Catholics put barrels and barrels of gunpowder under the Palace of Westminster with intent to blow up the Protestant King James VI and I with his Parliament and all the Protestant big wigs therein.

What a huge security breach, can you honestly believe something like this happening now? Well if such a plot was discovered today, say a plan resulting in the blowing up the PM, Leader of the Opposition and the Queen at the State Opening of Parliament this week, it would probably be covered up by the government and security services; because if it was leaked that terrorists were allowed to come so close to destroying most of the political elite the embarrassment would be too much for the government to bear. Instead of exposing it and celebrating the failed attempt by the terrorists it would be hushed up, never mind lighting fires, waving sparklers and setting of colourful explosives. There would be a mass of resignations (although with this government I’m not so sure), Brown would have to go for sure, the Jeremy Vine show on BBC Radio 2 and Radio 5 Live would have a months worth of discussion on the topic.

There have been bangs in the night all weekend, scaring the wits out of old History Boy as per usual, and apparently there is a display and late night BBQ on campus at Horwood Bar (aka The Shed) which some of my pals will be attending. I’m in two minds about going, it will be probably be really cold and really packed, it will probably rain too so it will more than likely be cancelled. Plus money is once again getting a little tight, and once you've seen one domestic fireworks display you've seen them all...Keele security won't let them have a bonfire anyway so it wouldn't be a proper Bonfire Night.

I went to see ‘Stardust’ with History Girl Saturday night. I really enjoyed it; it was just pure unadulterated adventurous fun. Easy to watch and the main character was easy on the eye too...which is always a bonus (the costumes were all amazing too, very Captain Hook like, and I love all that). There was a lot wrong with it mind, but because it was just a pure joy to behold the sloppiness of it all can be forgiven, it even had a sloppy happy ending which may have been a bit too much to stomach usually, but the film got away with it. History Girl enjoyed the film too; there were handsome older men in black boots and long coats for her to stare at. Robert De Niro played an excellent character also, a gay sky pirate who has to act butch for all his crew to maintain his reputation as a fearsome swashbuckler; but when he is discovered in a ladies undergarment dancing with a fan by his crew they admit that they always knew he was a ‘woopsey’ but he will always be ‘their captain’...it really warmed my heart.

Sunday was boring; I stayed in and watched all of Series 4 of Curb Your Enthusiasm waiting for Alex to getback to Keele as he had been away for the weekend. I also cut my lip whilst shaving...and it wouldn’t stop bleeding for like 3 hours and it hurt like a bitch. This also meant Alex and I couldn’t be ‘friendly’ as I had blood all over my face. Sunday was a shit day, they always are.

Hallowe'en 2007

2007-11-04T13:20:28Z

Wow, I’m Blogging, how retro.

Hallowe’en (notice the correct spelling, with the apostrophe between e and e, and I’m not listening to MS Word with its little red lines this time!) was pretty good this year, I would perhaps even go as far as saying it was the best Hallowe’en I’ve ever taken part in (which is rather sad considering). Although saying that I do remember going to Secrets in Romford for Hallowe’en a few years back, maybe October 2003 or 2004, with Kayleigh, Emma, Chris, William (RIP), Roddy and a few others, I think Boris turned up and looked less frightening in his costume than he would normally, for those of you who don’t know Boris he was a rather hairy person, with it growing out of his face in most directions. I think he could have come to any Hallowe’en party as say, a Werewolf, without making any effort what so ever.

However I don’t remember much about that night, which is perhaps an indication that it was a better night then the one I had on Wednesday, but there you go.

Anyway I dressed up as Dracula; I already have the pale skin and dark hair so I was half way there anyway. I bought a pair of vampire teeth (6p from Tesco!) a gothic-vampire like medallion and ring set, a fabric cape and a cheap frilled shirt and bow-tie combo. Alex came as a zombie type thing, Tory Boy O was very suitably dressed as the devil and Tory Boy P as a skeleton, although I think he took his costume too seriously, because it was in fact so very, very tight that not only did he not leave much to the imagination, but from a distance it looked like TB P was just a fleshy head attached to nothing more than bones.

As good as I thought I and everyone else looked we were completely out done by Tory Boy M who came as a scary clown (he put a lot of research into his costume too, and stumbled upon a rather disturbing website about clown porn while on Google). He did look amazing, with a special face paint that made his skin look like it was melting and bloody and a massive ginger wig...he successfully had one of the girls who came along totally spooked and would not go anywhere near him all night, although said girl was not too afraid of skeletons as it turned out.

We did most of the bars on campus in a type of bar crawl, we aimed for 12 bars at first but in the end we did not go to the Golfers Arms because no one was sure whether it was open and the walk there was long and it was far too cold to walk up there for nothing, TB P was especially cold walking around campus being he didn’t have any skin. So we settled on 11 (Templar, Syned Arms, Lindsey, Horwood, Keele Postgraduate Association, Pig & Rat, Union Square, and then into the Union for Barista, Sam’s, the Lounge and K2.) I personally did 10, missing out on the Lounge because it was far too packed when we arrived; and there was no way I was going to get served without wasting valuable dancing time. Although I think the whole pub crawl thing is flawed, being all the bars in KUSU have the same prices and mostly the same drinks, expect maybe Barista downstairs as it does Pago Juice (OMG, they are so amazing, Mark was right) and all those international beers, all the upstairs bars are pretty much the same, and I think they could be counted as one, seems a bit trivial/silly separating them all.

It was the first time I had ever been in the KPA however. Everyone goes on about how nice it is, and how apparently the food is amazing. Well I’ve not tasted the food, but the actual bar itself was nothing special, it reminded me of a church hall or a working mans club with its tables and chairs, you could tell it hadn’t been significantly updated since the 70s. Still, I suppose that's not a bad thing really, it could be considered a piece of socail history.

All in all the night was fun, perhaps not as a successful CF social as the group fragmented once everyone was drunk in the Union, but it was fun for me, and in the long run, that is all that ‘counts.’

I woke up the next morning with a bit of a headache, nothing too world destroying. I went to my History seminar (it's getting slightly less boring the more I read about it). I think I am allergic to seminars though, every time I sit down in a class room my nose begins to run...I’m forever sniffing and bringing a tissue to my nose and I’m very conscious of my fellow students around me being annoyed/sickened by this. It’s obviously something to do with coming out of the cold into the usually too hot classroom, and me lowering my head to write and read. But it is affecting my learning, mainly because I don’t want to contribute in class and draw attention to myself in case I have snot all over my upper lip.

I was rather unwell Thursday night / Friday morning, so unwell in fact I had to miss the Racing Day many people from CF had bought tickets for, which was annoying. Although I am a useless gambler, and Alex told me after they didn’t even see David Cameron who was meant to be in attendance. I was fine by the mid-afternoon, which was annoying, if you are going to be ill and you’ve cancelled on an event because of it, your body should do the decent thing and be ill for the entirety of the event.

Right, that’s your lot. You’re bang up to date now.

PS: I just checked my old journal for that previous Hallowe'en I mentioned and it was in October 2004, although I wrote nothing about the actual time in the club, so I probably didn’t remember the evening even then. However I can’t believe I had forgot that it was the night which led to me being able to tell my famous ‘Bitter Lemon - Bit of Lemon’ anecdote (it’s not much of an anecdote, but its all I have...that and the Chris pissing up a Church story and us crashing a boat on the Norfolk Broads)...I’ll leave you with an extract from my old blog detailing it:

We met up in the Pub first, and yet again they had no Tonic Water, and you can’t do much else with Gin unless you have Tonic to go with it, expect that is, Bitter Lemon. So I tell the barman, who was dressed as a schoolgirl (complete with small pubescent breasts) “if you don’t have any Tonic, I'll have Bitter Lemon with it.” He gives me a strange, puzzled look and goes, “Bitter Lemon?” and then goes down the other end of the bar, he brings back a glass of gin with around 5 segments of Lemon in it...what a cretin!

Beyond Disgraceful and Above Democracy

2007-10-22T21:22:24Z

After last years rather uneventful (and rather boring) SRC meetings, where all the Sabbs were amicable and on the whole competent, this evenings Extraordinary SRC marked a stark contrast to those more peaceful times. Although a cock up of this kind didn’t happen last year, and I suppose this issue would always cause a bit of a drama.

In the recent by-elections for Union part time officers a number of human errors for one or two people in authority meant that a few students voted twice, ballot boxes were unconstitutionally manned by only one person (which is pretty bad oversight, regardless whether it was only the returning officer or not), and someone running for campus affairs officer was listed as running for off-campus officer on the ballot paper...the executive of the Union sought to sweep all that under the carpet and allowed the elections and their results to stand by presenting a motion to the ESRC.

Now a lot of people thought that declaring this as outrageous and wrong was pointless; mainly because none of the positions were contested and only around 100 students bothered to vote in the first place. What was even more convincing by those who wanted to shit all over the KUSU constitution and democracy was that the longer the officer positions remain vacant, the more students suffer because jobs on Union committee are not getting done. They made some good points...but I would argue that they did not make valid points.

The constitution was broken and that really should have been the end of the discussion. There are rules; there is a constitution, a bloody codified constitution at that! And although we are only a small students union and no one was really being hard done by if all of the errors were ignored; I was disappointed how easily people were willing to break the constitution, and also sneer or laugh at those who stood up for their principles.

What is the point in having a constitution, when for the sake of convenience we are willing to forsake it and just do whatever we like?

Who are SRC to say that can be done? We elect ourselves and are not the sovereign body of the Union.

And is a motion which admits the elections were unconstitutionally carried out, and that the results of said constitution should be used anyway, allowed to be passed in the first place? Has SRC just done something unconstitutional? Although I suppose if that was the case, someone would have pointed it out...

But that isn’t what really pissed me off. I can understand why the motion passed; the arguments were convincing on the whole even if I do find them objectionable personally, and sadly Tory Boy Os signature on amendment or him speaking passionately about something is often the kiss of death.

What really annoyed me was that those who were standing up for a principle, a principle of democracy and upholding the constitution, were ridiculed and snorted at. And what is even worse; I heard on the grape vine that some voted for the motion to pass and for the 'results' to be valid because some thought, or were told, that if nominations for the part time officers were to be reopened; then CF would flood the nominations and we would put up our own candidates.

Well I’m Executive Chairman and it’s the first I’ve heard of the evil secret Tory plan to flood Union Committee so we can have our wicked way with the students. And for the record, there is no Tory whip on SRC while I am Executive Chairman, and if one of our members were elected to Union Committee, I would never attempted to 'use' them for anything.

And what was also an annoyance to me, was those who said it didn’t matter if the flawed elections stood, or that they did not care or give a shit. Well if they did not give a shit they should have abstained rather than vote for unconstitutional elections; and if that attitude was applied elsewhere, then why bother voting for Labour Party in a Tory Safe seat? Why bother holding the 2001 General Election, we all knew what the result was going to be? Why don't the votes of a small number of people count?

What is more dangerous is that, in the name of the good of the people, there are some who are willing to act however they like and simply break the rules or go back on the promise...because they think it is for the best. Well who the fuck are they in the first place? And why do they think they have a right to mock someone who believes in playing it straight and following the rules? Whether it is ignoring flawed elections or signing a treaty which is a re-hash of a constitution...it all stinks!

Anyway...rant over. No doubt those who still follow all the Keele LJs (no one uses LJ anymore...it is really a shame, I think it is only me and Manx Girl) will think how sad it is all the Tories went back and blogged about it. Not that I care what anyone thinks; but the whole evening was a disgrace in my book, a stain on KUSU and I’m writing here for myself, so when I go back through the entries in years to come I’m reminded of how ridiculous student politics is.

Not much else to report. Went leafleting in Stafford on Saturday, the leaflets were in colour, but for some reason my hands were as black as a coal miners by the end of the day. So that was confusing, although maybe it was people’s filthy letterboxes? People don’t often push letters through there own letter boxes, so they probably aren’t aware of how stiff and dirty they are...people should spare a thought for the postman and people distributing leaflets (well for the post man anyway) and make sure their box allows easy access and is clean...and that advice can be used in other areas too (bah-boom-tish!! Thank you, thank you…I’m here all academic year)

Three Things that Pissed Me Off this Week (and the rest)

2007-10-19T13:16:41Z

One: On Monday I was walking back from Select & Spend one afternoon, and was crossing the road on campus using the pedestrian safe guard that is the zebra crossing. This car was approaching it quite slowly, and seemed to be slowing down to let me pass as is the custom. However I’m half way across the road and the car keeps coming, and I am forced to stand in the middle of the road let it pass. And as the car drives past at a relatively slow speed the bloke driving looks out the window to his right and gives me a look as if to suggest I’m an idiot or something.

I was infuriated, how dare he suggest I was in the wrong with his eyes. Just because he’s in a hunk of metal and I’m on my feet doesn’t mean he is some kind of god of the roads. He must have known he was in the wrong, and should have apologised by mouthing ‘sorry’ or something through the glass. If he had run me over (not that he could have at the speed he was going), but then apologised for it, I would have been less annoyed...what a prick!

Two: After using the grill (not the lean mean type...a standard grill...and oh that reminds me, I have to clean the grill) for around half an hour making dinner I went to turn it off. Now the grill in out flat has a handle which is covered in plastic which you can detach from the actual grill pan itself in order to close the hatch. Of course it was made of plastic, because it is an insulator...it’s basic GCSE stuff, common sense.

However for some twisted reason the button you have to press on the handle, to release it from the pan so you can close the hatch, is made of metal.

I suppose you know what happened next...and let me tell you, it hurt like a motherfucker. Especially because I know it is a little stiff and awkward to use, and I really pushed hard on it. But why in God’s name was it not plastic like the rest of the damn handle...that is one major design flaw if you ask me, in my humble opinion. Anyway I was due to go out that night, and seriously considered not going out because my thumb was in horrible burning pain unless it was plunged in a mug of icey water (which it was for an hour and a half, but everyone so often I had to take it out because it was burning with the cold, but then when I took it out, a minute later it started burning again...there was no escape).

What made it even more inconvenient was that as soon as I became effectively one handed I became incredibly popular on MSN and every started talking to me...and typing with one hand to several conversations was not easy let me tell you.

Three: Big Boy Tories are stupid. I shan’t go into the details, needless to say they have be asked to do something by the Area management...something which is rather important and they haven’t got that much time to implament. They were given a document outlining what needs to be done...it is 3-4 pages long...doubled spaced, and is in a big font and is mostly in bullet points. So the Chairwoman decides that they can’t act or debate on the document until everyone has read it first...fair enough...so that will be a 10 minute break for everyone to get a drink and digest the information then? Oh no! Let’s have another meeting in January to discuss everything! January! Well you can’t have one in December, everyone will be busy with Christmas.

Jesus tap-dancing Christ!

In other news:

On the Tuesday I attended a dinner hosted by a local Youth organisation in celebration of Democracy Week (yes, its Democracy week this week? You mean you didn’t know?) and I for one enjoyed myself on the whole, even if some of the others I went with found fault. The idea was to have mixed tables of ‘young people’ and ‘people with influence and experience’ sit together during dinner and discuss different issues affecting young people during the three courses.

Great idea, in fact a fantastic idea...I really liked out it was set out. However the ‘young people’ I was sat with did not seem too interested in the topics selected for our table. In all fairness they were nice people, pleasant enough, and quite easy to talk too, that is except about young role models, underage binge drinking and something about sport and exercise (by the 3rd course it had gone completely off the rails). So although not much progress was made in regard to what we were meant to be brainstorming about, I did get an insight into how some ‘young people’ think or what their lives are like.

Every single one of them seemed to have no interest in their future, they were studying different things at college but did not know what they wanted to be when they grew up (although I can’t say much about that myself...I’m still not totally sure what I want to be, and I'm already grown up). They spent most of the night discussing among themselves whether or not they could get away with nipping out for a "quick fag" and when we got to talking about underage binge drinking, they instead regaled us with stories of their typical Friday night, where one of them claims to drink a whole bottle of Vodka every Friday, bought for him by his own mother (which particular brand of Vodka I’m not sure, although I’m guessing its not Grey Goose and more like one of those brands that has a plain white label and simply says ‘Vodka’).

Hmmm...you could easily fall into despair thinking about the future generation. One of the other ladies at our table was a Labour councillor for some local ward, she seemed more interested in the kids table manners and really took on the role as a stern auntie (and she really fucked me off for another reason, she took it in turn to tell everyone on the table we were Tories, not that I mind that...but she did it in such a way you would think that we had a contagious disease). In truth I think every one of those kids needs a kick up the backside, and I’d say the blame for their lack of aspiration and general well being has its roots at home. Still at least the dinner proved to them, if they picked up on it, that someone is interested in them, people are willing to fight their corner...if only the daft buggers took advantage of it.

Wednesday night was probably the best night out this year so far. Regardless of my burnt thumb, I boogied away with everyone (there are some horrific photos on Facebook...Lisa was a little too snappy happy for my liking) and really relaxed and had a good time. However perhaps the only reason I broke out of my reserved shell was because I drank a lot more than I usually would in order to numb the pain of my thumb, which several hours after the incident hadn’t stopped hurting. Eventually I got tipsy enough to forget the pain and had an awesome time with Alex, History Boy, Tory Boys O and P and of course Lisa. I also bumped into History Girl, Tory Boy D and Gemma and it felt good knowing loads of friends were out.

There was this amazing half an hour on the dance floor though, they played some fabulous songs all in a row. It started off with ‘Could it be Magic’ and had Chaka Kahn’s ‘I’m every woman’ (which is far, far superior too the Whitney Huston cover) in there at some point, I forget the rest. I really got into it and was told by a few people that I was ‘sooo gay’...and you know what, for that moment anyway, I was proud of it. But when I look back of course I feel like a twat...a massive, massive twat.

Not much else going on I’m afraid. I got out of my awful History Seminar yesterday due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ encounter by my tutor. I was meant to have a meeting with her to discuss what boring topic I want to write 10,000 words for...shame.

No Frills Entry: SRC, Quiz, Karaoke

2007-10-13T10:05:04Z

The problem with not updating this journal as often as I used to is that I will often forget what has happened since the last entry, or on the other hand, I remember everything that has happened and end up writing a dissertation length entry (it has happened before, check http://jmak-thevoiceof.livejournal.com/2005/09/03/ for length.)

The first SRC of the year was uneventful; although the tradition of the VP Finance making smutty innuendo when talking about the refurbishments in the Union (whether by mistake or on purpose) was continued; last year it was Rob and his ‘little black poofs’ so now it was the incumbent with “hopefully it will be finished, touch wood, and I’ve been touching wood all week.”

On Thursday a few of us attempted the quiz at ‘Quiz and Cocktails.’ It was enjoyable enough, we scored 97 points (and we made 3 silly mistakes so our ‘real’ score was 100 in my mind) and the winning team won with 105. So it was a good effort, and I was also pleased with the Cosmopolitan I had, it was not altogether awful, I could drink it without crying at how wrong it was. I am determined to win that quiz again this year, although I can’t attempt it next week because I have a Big Boy Tory Meeting, which should be nearly as fun.

Last night ‘Future Friday’ became ‘Funky Friday’ as Tory Boy O suggested that after the meeting CF partake in the favourite pursuit of Japanese businessmen (after golf that is)...Karaoke.

That one word brings back some many awful memories, I swore to myself I would never get up and sing in front of other drunken people ever again…and for once I did not break my own promise. So you may be thinking that doesn’t make for a very interesting LJ entry if all you did was sit there and drink...and you’d be right.

The Unoffical Mascot

2007-10-07T17:08:53Z

Get this...I went to a football match, and watched the entire thing...and even more amazingly, I went and watched of my own free will! I went to see Walsall FC play and beat Huddersfield 4-0. Probably not the most high profile game this weekend; I can contrast this with my brother who was only a few miles down the road at Villa Park watching West Ham loose, which was perhaps a little more grand.

This was all in aid of mine and Alex’s nine month anniversary (three quarters of a year, wow!). Being when we usually celebrate our anniversary we often end up going to places I want to go or simply eating out in restaurants I choose, I thought it would be a change if I made it Alex’s day and let him call the shots. So I accompanied him to see his beloved Saddlers; I never really got into the game as such, I only realised when a goal was scored by the people around me shouting; I was also more entertained listening to the locals chattering away around me than by what was happening on the field. But the 90-odd minutes did not drag at all, and although I was annoyed at having to stand up every other minute when there was a possible chance of the ball being anywhere near the goal (or maybe I’m just too un-fit and was getting worn out), I can honestly say I has a nice time and I suppose it wasn’t where I was, it was who I was with which was the important thing.

The last time I was at a football watch was with Big Dave and my brother at Upton Park watching West Ham. I don't remember if they won or lost, all I remember was that it cost a £1 to get in because I had to pretend to be under 16 or something (I was at least 17-18, and even when I was that age I looked 21) and that there was one bloke who loved shouting at David James to 'get back in the fucking box!" And everyone wanted to 'sack the board' and stood up to prove they hated Millwall. Walsall was similar, the crowd picked on a Huddersfield playing when he missed a goal calling him a 'fat bastard.' This is perhaps the one part of the game I've never liked, there is no such thing as sportsmanship anymore in English sport, crowds will never clap a good attempt by the opposition and will often boo at international games during the opponent's national anthem. I find it very distasteful, still the Walsall crowd were friendly enough, and for a 'little team' the commitment and loyalty of the fans is admirable.

The only strange thing was that Walsall FC seems to have an unofficial mascot in the shape of a young man with apparent learning difficulties; in short someone who less politically correct and insensitive people would call a 'retard,' but I wouldn't, no, not me, I'm trying to be more sensitive. Anyway this boy's ‘crowd motivation bit’ involves running around the outside of the ground, stopping in front of a particular stand, then putting his hands on his arse and running on the spot. The crowd then clap in time to his antics, and if they are lucky he would pull up his shirt and gives them a flash of one of his nipples.

It was quite evident that a lot of the people there were laughing at him rather than with him, I was definitely laughing when he proudly displayed his nipple to the crowd, although I think was laughing with disbelief. Although Alex describes him as a ‘legend’ and clearly some at the ground have affection for him...I don’t know, something does not sit well with me about the whole thing. I suppose it’s harmless and he enjoys himself, and if narrow minded people get there kicks out of laughing at people with disabilities then that’s their business; but if I were the official mascot (which in Walsall’s case is a giant sparrow) I’d be a little pissed off at having my limelight stolen by a retard, but then again I’m the jealous type.

Anyway after all that we got on a packed train back to Birmingham (West Ham fans keeping us entertained on the journey with there many songs and chants) and went to dinner. The waiter who showed us to our table was screaming queen, and gave us both the ‘look.’ If you don’t know what the ‘look’ is in this context then it is the look one homo gives another when they recognise you are ‘one of them.’ I’ve never thought I was particularly obvious, Alex especially is not, but it goes to show that gaydar definitely does exist. I was a little annoyed by the whole thing though, I felt rather 'straight' until then, being at the footie and even having a discussion about football...true I was at the game and having that discussion with my boyfriend, and that discussion was about whether certain players could be gay, but none the less it brought me back down to Earth.

On the academic side of things, the introductory period is now officially over and all seminars from now on are full blown seminars which I am expected to do tonnes of reading/preparation for. I already have two presentations to prepare for within the next four weeks, and then a 1000 word research proposal document...and that is only Politics/IR, on the History side of things it is a lot more intense, and I’m finding the reading for that especially boring...this does not bode well.

Until next time...TTFN

Settled In and Ready to Go

2007-09-30T22:55:07Z

I am now officially ‘settled in’ on campus, and having now been back in Staffordshire for little over a week it is now probably time for a Fresher’s Week Review.

First off, the flat I am in at the moment beats the house in Stoke last year and Prisoner Cell Block D the year before that. It’s clean, it’s big and it’s blue. The colour scheme of course was pure coincidence, but being our flat is now Keele Tory HQ (even if the Secretary of Labour Students lives here also, sleeping with the enemy as it were) it is very appropriate. In fact living in this flat for a week, I am in fact rather bitter about my first year at University. Those old Hawthorne blocks were not far off being dilapidated and having only 4 showers for around 30 people did not make for sanitary conditions. While here in a Barnes Hall flat everything has been recently refurbished and considering that at home there are five of us that use the shower, here in the flat there are only four of us, so in some respects this flat is better than my house (obviously it's not the same comfort wise)...at least here I have my own room and an internet connection I don’t have to share with my sibling.

Although the flat does have its downsides which take the shine off a little. The first major problem is that we are on the ground floor. There are three reasons why this pisses me off.

1: Almost everyone who enters and leaves the block walks past my window, meaning I’m woken up by chattering students who have early lectures and loud drunken morons late at night coming back from the Union. At least in Prisoner Cell Block D it was relatively remote and out of the way and my window faced a hardly used path.

2: Resident Tutors and Community Support Officers have this past week been walking round the blocks and keep closing my window. This is all part of a campaign to get people to close their windows so as to avoid being burgled, as some local chavs have been known to wander on to campus and raid student rooms for laptops and mobile phones etc, etc. This is fair enough, but they close it irrespective of whether you are in or not. Three times I’ve been watching TV (well I say watching...more of that next) or chatting away on MSN, with the light on, and bang!...someone closes my window without even enquiring if someone is in or not. To make it worse they put a leaflet in the shape of an arm, as if to imply you were an arms reach from having your stuff stolen. Well yes, maybe if I wasn’t in the room that would be true, but I was they should bloody well ask before they go shutting off my ventilation. Maybe the powers that be won’t be happy until every student room smells like a cheese warehouse…and a French cheese warehouse at that.

3. Being on the ground floor means you have to fiddle with you TV aerial like Michael Jackson would a supple 8-year old boy to get anything like a decent picture. And the position that works for say BBC 2 doesn’t work for Channel 4, and what brings in BBC 1 to an almost watchable picture brings in ITV with a snowstorm (although I’m not to fussed with ITV anyway...it all shit and X Factor). And if you are thinking of bring your Freeview box, forget it! Maybe I should try and give up TV this year anyway, but then again I know as soon as Doctor Who starts its new series I’ll demand a TV...and QI has started its ‘E series’ and I adore QI.

Apart from that, everything is hunky-dory. And being only 3-4 minutes walk from the Students Union and most of my seminar rooms, it is probably going to be the most convenient place with the shortest commute to work I will ever be likely to enjoy in my entire life.

On the CF side of things, I have very little to say (probably for the best anyway). Fresher’s Fair went well, we increased our intake as I understand it, most people agreed that the party we threw for the Freshers was a good improvement on the previous one (although there were very vocal exceptions to that) and the first meetings almost became a shambles, but we pulled through. However in general we plod on, but I must admit we seem to be in the same position we were in last year...not that being the same as last year intake and membership wise is a bad thing, but everyone hopes vast improvements. My dream of Newcastle college student intake fell flat on its face (bar one chap who is definitely becoming an active asset), but we have some big plans for the year, and some parties still to throw...and I’m determined to make them fabulous. Also Alex and Tory Boy O, Manx Girl have been working extra hard, and it should be a great year for CF. Although I kind of wish the Prime Minister would call and election just to make it that extra bit exciting...although my degree would suffer I would dare say.

My actual academic work doesn’t start till Tuesday, so tomorrow I intend to make use of my free time: I’m getting a hair cut, so hopefully the hot barber will be there. And I’m going to do some shopping while I still have the money...and hopefully also try and find some work as a Christmas temp. Although in my introductory meetings so far, the History department seems hell bent on scaring us into working extra hard, as if anything less of completely exhausting yourself will mean you fail miserably; (bit of an exaggeration I grant you) so I’m in two minds about finding non-academic work. But I will definitely need the cash come Christmas...

Ah well...

The Mystery of CBA 0.023

2007-09-25T10:54:49Z

Before I tell this tale I just want you all to know that the irony of the situation was not lost on me.

I was walking up to what I thought would be my first seminar of the academic year when I was approached by a dazed and lost young 1st year girl looking for the Dorothy Perkins Building. I gladly offered to walk her up to the building, as I had plenty of time to spare and did not just want to point her in the general direction or give her a load of directions; I had a great deal of sympathy for her as I remember how that very same building alluded me in my first week at Keele. I walked her up to the building, pointed out the main entrance and reassured her as I departed that “don’t worry, after a few weeks you’ll know where everything is.”

After feeling very positive and pleased with myself once my good deed for the day was done I proceeded to make my way to my own first very contact with teaching staff for the new semester. I was looking for room CBA 0.023. After walking down the corridor counting down the room numbers, CBA 0.015, CBA 0.017, CBA 0.019, I realised that there was not enough corridor left to accommodate CBA 0.023. I turned off down another corridor but to my horror the door numbers started with CBA 0.033! I went back and went out a door which led into a kind of courtyard, but all the rooms there were CBA 0.050 and above!

I then bumped into Tory Boy D who was also looking for the same room; we then together went searching for the elusive CBA 0.023. I showed him where I had been, just to make sure I wasn’t going totally mad, but he too was baffled by the absence of ten rooms. I said allowed “there are ten rooms missing” to which a bystander replied “if you find them will you let me know?” He must have been another lost soul wandering aimlessly in this purgatory with florescent lighting. I then realised that we had spent the last quarter of an hour wandering around, and it was approaching 10am…

We soon discovered, after re-checking the notice board in the History department, that I had written down the incorrect door number and that in fact we were meant to be in ‘CBA 1.023,’ which was on the 1st floor and was a lot easier to find. We raced up the stairs worried that we would be embarrassingly late for our very first seminar only to find one other student waiting outside. The three of us waiting in the room making light conversation for 10 minutes and no one else turned up, not even the tutor.

Obviously the seminars don’t start until after the introductory lecture on Thursday, but for some reason this fact did not sink in to us three eager young historians. But there is still the mystery of room CBA 0.023 which is nowhere to be found, why would a corridor run from rooms 0.001 to 0.002 and then the next corridor start with 0.030 or thereabouts?

Where are those ten or so rooms? Maybe they can not be accessed by human means. Maybe you have to wander into the cleaner’s cupboard and past all the dirty overalls and spare vacuum cleaner hose you enter into a magical land where the missing rooms are located and tutors give you Turkish Delight if you answer questions correctly. Or if not then maybe you have to click you heels three times and say aloud “there’s is no place like CBA 0.023, there’s no place like CBA 0.023...”

Tory Boy D...I have a feeling we aren’t in Keele anymore.

Pining for the Hills of Keele

2007-09-18T00:19:46Z

Forget that whole thing I was on about in my last entry about me posting pictures and doing an entry really soon...

Oh you did anyway...

Good

I don't suppose I can blame you, this LJ has lost that certain spark for me this Summer. But I'm going to try and do a post now, so let's see how it goes:

I suppose the reason for the total lack of updates is that this summer has been rather dull and totally dominated by work at the club, which is no longer fun to blog about, I can only slag off alcoholics so much before it gets tiresome.

Alex and TB D are already in our flat which they will be sharing with me and History Boy this academic year, apparently the shower is annoying and the kitchen nowhere near large enough for the adventurous cooking I had been hoping to do and you can not get a TV signal for love nor money (not that love would do you much good in such a predicament anyway). Still I must admit I am rather jealous of those two, having their own private space and already living it up getting back into the swing of student life. TB D was telling me about the bar they have assembled, all the different spirits and mixers, and how they spent the afternoon drinking tea and playing poker...that is good life.

And here I am, in my childhood home sharing a room with an 18 year old brother and having to make sure someone is in the house to look after my younger brother if I want to go out. I feel incredibly bored and circumscribed (read that word again, not what you thought it was is it?, look it up if you don’t know what it is...I do aim to try and improve people’s vocabulary). I want to be able to go out and do stuff without being told I can’t do stuff because I have to do things at home. When I finish my final year I will have to focus on getting out of this house and set up independently right away, maybe even before I get home; because it is all very well living here under these undesirable conditions knowing I will be moving out again in a matter of months; but not being sure of how long I will have to stay is not situation I want to be in.

Saying all that, it would be unfair to say I have not enjoyed parts of the summer, and the summer break is not quite over yet, there are still a few things left to do. I have loved being able to go out with the old gang regularly again; and Chris now having his own ‘student-like’ lifestyle in his shared house, it has been a new and fun element over the months. We have planned to go to a comedy club later today, so that should be a good deal of fun.

Last week me, Emma, Kayleigh and Chris went bowling. I hadn’t bowled in ages but quickly got back into the swing of things, and I did not even have my glasses. Emma told us that she got her nipple pierced (ouch!) and without even really thinking about what I was saying I asked “can we see it?” I don’t blame Emma for not getting her right (was it the right one?) tit out in the middle of a bowling alley with young children on the next lane...or indeed out in public at all. We then went next door to the Mexican bar for cocktails (I don’t care what anyone says, milk and alcohol mixed is not nice).

And it has just been simple nights out like that which have been really great haveing regularly. Everyone can wind down, swap news and gossip.

So although I am pining for the Student life now, no doubt I shall miss our drinking trips in the Goose or going round Chris’ for warm white wine and games on the Wii.

PS:
And speaking of ladies exposing their boobies: there is a barmaid at the working man’s club who is in her late 40s. She is known for getting her own love cushions out for the lads when she is a little drunk, she also likes to call people ‘cunt’ but gets away with it because she is loveably common. You may not think she is someone I would personally like, but she does really make me laugh and she is a genuinely nice person, if a little rough round the edges. You should note that she is also a massive supporter of Arsenal. Yesterday after my shift I stayed for a drink with my colleagues and we got to talking.

She was telling me a story of when one Saturday Arsenal beat some other team 1-0 and she wrote the score in marker pen on her rather large but saggy breasts (I suppose if you are going to write a football result on your tits 1-0 is easy to do because you don’t have to worry about getting it the right way round so people can read it correctly.) So when she came into work and saw a fan of the rival club she would flash her hits and figuratively (although thankfully not literally) rub their noses in it. However unfortunately she later discovered that the score just wouldn’t wash off...and that she had in fact used a permanent marker on her own flesh. I then said “oh...so what did you do?”

Her reply nearly made me spill my Gin and Tonic.

“I got on my fucking knees and prayed we won 1-0 the next game *burp*.”