Would the driver of a black Fiat Punto please shrivel up and die? He suffer with many big voodoo curse on his back. Much bad will come out of this. Very bad juju. The manes of his ancestors refuse to protect him.
Ah, the driving test. It has taken me a long time to talk about it. I managed to get one serious offence because the afore-mentioned driver shot out of nowhere (even Miss High-And-Mighty Test Conductor didn’t see him) as I was emerging from a side road and then overtook me dangerously. So that’s my fault. Apparently. That cunt of a driver is currently suffering all the agonies of a multi-religious, non-sectarian hell that I can cook up in my mind. A comparitively minor irritation that added to my grief was that I got 10 minor faults; 3 of which for “undue hesitation” and 2 for “improper speed”. I was only going slow because that fatso was weighing the car down, as well as intentionally trying to catch me out by giving last-moment instructions! I was wincing as we went over the bumps because I thought I’d hear the undercarriage scrape. Hmm, maybe fatso took offence to that? Plus, in my blithe smugness, I already told one company that I have a driving license, and they’re gonna want to see it pre-e-e-tty soon. Not to mention me having to scrape around for some cash to book another fucking test, to which was later added the news that the last two hours of driving I used that I had considered paid-for, are apparently not!
I was really out of it these last couple of days. Miserable as fuck. Could anything else go wrong, me wonders?
Only my phone could break down, giving me some more mental anguish as to whether it’s covered for by the £8 funneled out of my account by Vodaphone every month for insurance, or somehow I was going to end up suckered again! (Admittedly I contributed to the breaking of the phone by hurling it in rage at a wall. Surprisingly little damage, considering).
Anyhow, time to pick up the pieces once again. Snakes and ladders, ladders and snakes.
I had a good time at Jessy/Ioanni’s BBQ yesterday, which considerably lifted my morose spirits. Pictionary / Dumb Charades with the gang was really fun, although it did give me some insights into some people’s minds that I’d’ve been better off without. And the Frogs couldn’t beat South Korea, which is always good news.

Just managed to pick up his book again after finishing ‘Waiting for the wild..’. This one is called ‘Words’ and is autobiographical. There was some difficulty wading through the beginning, as he describes his paternal and maternal families in a rich and droning manner reminiscent to me of Dostoevsky’s ‘Brothers Karmazov’. But now the rich prose is getting better (and I’m geting more used to it) it’s quite enjoyable. Also enjoyable is the fact that it’s only got 150-odd pages, albeit densely packed, and once I’m done I can claim to have an opinion on French writers! I’ve only ever read Alexander Dumas (not pronounced Dumb-Ass) before.
Yes, here comes the quote. Sartre is a child in his learned grandfather’s study, surrounded by mystical things called books.

I used to touch them in secret to honour my hands with their dust but I did not have much idea what to do with them and each day I was present at ceremonies whose meaning escaped me: my grandfather – so clumsy, normally, that my grandmother buttoned his gloves for him – handled these cultural objects with the dexterity of an officiating priest. Hundreds of times I saw him get up absent-mindedly, walk round the table, cross the room in two strides, unhesitatingly pick out a volume without allowing himself time for choice, run through it as he went back to his armchair, with a combined movement of his thumb and forefinger, and, almost before he sat down, open it with a flick ‘at the right page’, making it creak like a shoe. I sometimes got close enough to observe these boxes which opened like oysters and I discovered the nakedness of their internal organs, pale, dank, slightly blistered pages, covered with small black veins, which drank ink and smelt of mildew.

Fascinating imagery of a boy awakening to the written word.

Been busy with applications. Driving test is coming up in two days; I shall know around 13:30 on Thursday whether I hold my head high or hang it in abject shame.
Nowt much to blog, so I’ll give you some quotes from a very colourful book on African (un)politics, basically a guide book on how to become, and remain, dictator. The book is ‘Waiting for the wild beasts to vote’ by Ahmadou Kourouma and is very distinctively written. The style of narration runs thus: A singer-poet praising a “great” hunter (who became dictator for life of a West African nation) has a court jester at his side who tells us the real story in hints. This is over the period of celebration of seven nights, thus the seven chapters of the book are called the Seven Vigils. Some colourful, Confucian-like excerpts at the beginning of each chapter are

“The drum which does not punish the crime is a cracked jug”
“A fish-hook is useless to catch a hippopotamus”
“It is he whose impotence you cured who steals your wife”

and what has to be the best

“A man does not forget the shrub behind which he took cover when he fired on an elephant and hit him”

I had this great brainwave while lying in bed. Unfortunately it flooded my memory bank!! 😛 I thought of locating my old school on t’web. Frankly, what I’d like to have seen was a map of the school building and some photos so I could remember where I ran around as a wee nipper, so I was a smidge disappointed, but I did manage to register myself on the alumni database. So here without any further ado, is New English School, Kuwait. “Ex oriente lux” was our motto, which I think means light from the Orient, which is kind of pointless. The uniforms seem to have changed, but then it has been 20+ years!!
I couldn’t find my school in India, St John’s High School, on the web, but then why am I not surprised? I am however shocked that my college, St Joseph’s, is not on the web either. However, to entertain you I must link to this photo Google dragged up from Flickr. It’s of a first year class, St Joseph’s College, year ’81-’82. At the height of Indian summer fashion!!!

You can vote for the worst buildings in Manchester at a website called “pride of Manchester” although i couldn’t vote for any because Manchester is all beauty. Can you imagine they’ve even nominated the Bridgewater hall???
And didja know that the best building in manchester is on Daisy Bank Road??

Having nowt to do except wait for a large multinational to send me an email confirming, nay, doubling the amount they want to pay me, I’ve been browsing blogs. Rachel’s hypo-allergenic cat article took me to a website about pets, where I found this headline “Pet-eating predator reappears in Mass.” Little was I to know that Mass is Massachusetts (of the Bee Gees song fame). I expected, and quite frankly was looking forward to seeing, a demonic stalker and devourer of pet poodles lurking in church and confessing for sins committed and forthcoming.
While doing this I also uncovered a must-read blog with articles about Origami gadgets from New Scientist.com’s Inventions

Yesterday evening I left the telly running while I was rustling up some Indian veggie food in the kitchen. Imagine my surprise when an advertisement (that’s all I pay attention to) for what appeared to be “Tropicana g-strings for kids” could be heard blaring in my living room. Now, let me inform you, my dear reader, that I am if anything a liberalist at heart, and far be it for me to stop anyone from enjoying their rights. But surely this was one step too far? We’ve thrown little make-up sets, barbie dolls, fashion glitters, and what-not else at kids (as any afternoon viewer of telly like meself knows), but the line must be drawn somewhere! G-strings indeed!! I had really worked myself up by the time I reached the living room!!
What it actually said was “Juice drinks for kids”.
Oh well, this missionary can wait for another cause to come along!!

I have just given the finger to spam!! Thanks to my own ingenuity and nothing at all owed to V!
Something in the newspapers botheirng me. Twice over the last week I have notices journalists using the word “phase” instead of “faze”, like “Nothing could phase him when he had a duty to do”. What a sloppy level of journalism!!! Really gets on my tits!!
P.S. I made some deliciousa pancakes yesterday with lovely meaty fillings!!

Reuters, UPI:- Last Sunday, the 4th of June, three cars separately made their way from Manchester down to Uttoxeter. Little would anyone of the onlooking, unsuspecting public realise that these three cars, in fact, held co-conspiring members of a very carefree and socialist alliance. These nutters were, in fact, out to realise a dastardly plan, hatched and realised by a most devious individual only known to interpol as “Tinks” a.k.a “Tinkerbell”. Rumour has it that this woman acquired this moniker due the hellish and monstrous tattoo around her bum region.
The mainstay of this plan was to bankrupt a large Western company that runs the entertainment park called Alton Towers. They aimed to accomplish this by going on as many rides as possible, therefore making it impossible for this free-trading company to make any profit from the £20.70 this heinous group had paid in advance. Another part of the plan was to jam up all the queues to increase public disgruntle-ness and spread Anti-Altonism.
Fortunately for the park, one pimply-faced employee amongst the many thousands that work there cottoned on to this plan, and they were named and shamed after having only been on 10/11 rides each! The members were The Black Corsa Pirates- Ioannis, Naz, Jessy, Yannis (with a predominance of Greeks, this group was well-versed in sea piracy), The Silver Polo Corsairs- David, Simon, Shasha, Bessie (this group contained the masters of infiltration), and The Maroon-ish Escort Marooners- Willy, Jilly, and the kingpin herself Tinky.
The rides that had been victims of their dastardly attemps were: Oblivion (twice), Air (twice), Nemesis, Climbing Wall, Katanga, The Flume, Spinball, Rita the Speed Queen, and Corkscrew. A splinter group also attacked the arcades and the Teacup ride.

Got to check out snap.com which searches websites, and displays a screen shot of the site so you can see if you wanna visit it!
Thanks to Autology for this heads-up.