Wednesday, February 24, 2010


Thought for the day

Just don't be yourself and you'll be okay

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Tuesday, February 23, 2010


Time on my hands...

...And it's time to categorise the music on my laptop.

I'm wondering about the philosophical implications of changing the genre of every single piece of music I possess to 'alternative'.


Friday, February 19, 2010


Encore quatre ans, cherie

In the 2003 Rugby World Cup semi final between Australia and New Zealand, Australia's scrum half, George Gregan, was picked up on broadcast cheerily calling "Four more years, boys!" to the opposition as the clock ticked down on another disappointing New Zealand exit.

I only wish Gregan had been next to the starting gate at the Olympic Women's Downhill in Vancouver, as Marion Rolland of France made it fully six yards before wobbling on one ski, veering off to the right and crashing to the floor.

Attempts to post youtube footage of this have generally been obstructed by the "dog in manger" attitude of the IOC, who aren't going to be using it on any of their highlights reel, methinks.

I hope she's entered in one or two of the other skiing events and she makes a better fist of it next time.

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Thursday, February 18, 2010


The human rights half marathon hat-trick

Following all the fun of doing the Coventry half marathon last October, I've lined up a bit of a mission for the spring: THREE half marathons, in aid of Amnesty International.

The first is going to be at the Silverstone race circuit on March 14th. This I will be running with a mate, Nick Grounds from my journalism course.

Amnesty have very kindly provided us with a pair of ghastly pink running vests which will make us look like a pair of Brighton beach lifeguards during pride week.

The second leg is on April 25th in Sheffield. Rather dauntingly, the event's web site provides a gradient map of the course, making me think miles 4-8 are going to be a bit of a slog.

The final leg is in Coventry on May 23rd, when I fully expect glorious sunshine and extremely thirsty work.

So there it is. Here's my sponsorship page, in case anyone feels like throwing a few pennies at my plodding coverage of 40-odd miles.

Given how torrid the second half of the Coventry event in October was, I'm going to try to do a little more training than "don't get pissed the night before."

Thus far, I have completed my first training objective: purchase a copy of Runner's World.


Tuesday, February 09, 2010


The author of my own misfortune

OSRIC How is't, Laertes?

LAERTES Why, as a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric;
I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery.

(Hamlet, Act V, Scene II)

I came along to the coffee shop yesterday to find a few more comments on my Facebook status than usual.

My status read: All my sexual fantasies revolve around violence

It's not the fact that Glyn changed my status when I left his laptop logged in to my Facebook account that cuts, so much as the fact that he changed it to the exact thing I'd told him half an hour previously that I would love to change someone's status to if the opportunity arose.

I don't even feel like avenging myself; I'm just going to sit here and sulk.

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It was the Superbowl last night and, despite comparative ignorance of American football, I wasn't about to let the opportunity for a sesh go by.

Simple premise: invite people round, split into Colts and Saints, and drink according to game events.

First down: team defending drinks
Turnover: team losing possession drinks
Points scored: team defending drinks
Losing yards on a play: team in possession drinks (extra for a QB sack)

There was also pizza and wings.

Matt and I were on the Saints team, Glyn and Pete were the Colts.

The game began well with Saints winning the toss, but this was about the last time Glyn and Pete had to drink in the first quarter as the Saints kicked away possession on their first two drives and the Colts scored on both of theirs.

Worse was to follow when we got absolutely schooled at the half time beer pong.

Thankfully, the Saints came good in the end, although I was possibly a bit too well oiled to savour the victory as much as I might have.

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