I have now 2 bound copies of my dissertation in my grubby mitts. Although it’s my own child, fruit of my loins, I’m not really proud of it. But the thing is that I’m finally shot of it. I was awake all night with bleary eyes staring at the screen. Fortified with essential vitamins in Red Bull, and after a cheeky nip down to the pub for a pint or five, I sat in MBS with Mamie trying to patch the gaping wounds in my disso.
Nighty night!

China’s putting its second manned spaceflight up in orbit at 9am tomorrow (actually 1am our time). But foreign news crews are banned, and although they plan to broadcast around 50 hours of the flight live on state television, if the launch fails they plan to show a documentary about how other countries’ missions have failed. Vive la Republic!!!
Ooops, forgot: Thanks to NewScientist for this heads-up

Sorry to keep you fans waiting for so long, only there’s the teeny matter of my dissertation that needs to be buried in a peat bog by the 12th. Yes, that’s this month. But like an addict to his needle, I return with trembling fingers (No, I shan’t have another Red Bull, thank you very kindly) to post. Ahhh, what shall it be today?? I remember leafing through Kundera again yesterday; I took him with me to Munich, but what with the beer and the beer, he kind of never made an appearance. There’s one very interesting (“Interesting”? Can’t I find a better adjective? One more complementary to the atmosphere of a seasoned surgeon dissecting human nature and spreading its entrails before us yet again?) chapter where he describes the meeting of Germany’s mind Goethe with France’s…. stomach(??) Napoleon (Bonnyparty always reminds me of a stomach. His appetite, and of course his quote “An army marches on its stomach”. Which, though true, nonetheless makes me smile). He speaks of Napoleon issuing ‘sound-bites’ much as a modern politician might, and utters his belief that people posed for photographs long before photographers existed. Or maybe that’s not quite correct how I put it. Not before they existed, but before they were present. Because Kundera writes that a thing exists in its essence long before it comes into being. I wish I could give you the exact words; maybe tomorrow. Au revoir, gringos!

Cherryfairy goes to t’top, because it’s her HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Bingboul’s climbing rapidly now she’s back from her parent’s home, and she addressed her plea directly to me. Autology slipping because there have been no updates. No changes in the bottom of the league; Rayk, Qing, Ye, Ina and Antonia all in the relegation zone at the moment. Ioannis, Boudica and Turboslut steady, as are Jessy, Jill and Tracy.
Remember, YOU CAN do something about your ranking!! Send me some money, or if you’re broke, call me and we can come to some other arrangement 😛

Yesterday I went home and took part in the BBC TV quiz that tests the English of the nation. Since I have freeview (the poor man’s Sky) I thought I’d get a bit of interactive action going. Imagine my horror then, when my score was tallied and it only came to a miserable 35/70!!! Yes, the computer can’t be wrong. 7/11 for comprehension (I didn’t mind that; I’m slow at the best of times), 6/14 for spelling, 7/14 for language, 9/19 for grammar and 6/15 for words. I knew there was some thing fishy in the state of Denmark. So I sat through the boring news and waited for the blow-by-blow, tedious answer session, where I found out, to my joy, that I had actually got 58/70!! I’d throw that damn digibox and its recalcitrant remote away if I weren’t so attached to it. The best score across the nation was 68/70, a computer consultant (yippee!!). Male, obviously 😛 And the two he got wrong were collective nouns. Apparently it’s a mischief of mice, a crash of hippopotami, and an ostentation of peacocks. Being an animal lover (no, don’t be silly, not literally), I was particularly gutted for getting those wrong. I also got one question on Shakespeare wrong, and I put that down to o’erconfidence (note how I made that sound like Shakespeare. I still got it!!) 😛

I’ve been too kind on some of you lazy lot recently, so now I’m not going to place your weblogs under my links alphabetically anymore. No, I’m going to rank you! This gives me the ultimate and absolute power and you the pathetic human need to please the one who judges you harshly (i.e. “Please love me parent/teacher/elder sibling, why dont you love me?”). The best weblogs are measured along four criteria: those that interest me, talk about me, and comment on my weblog, as well as those that update regularly. So you know what to do now, get on with it. This being me, bribes, of course, are accepted. I will also be impressed by indiscreet attempts at discrediting other competitors; after all, in my books sabotage is a perfectly valid method of gaining competitive advantage. This is all in the name of some healthy nastiness, nature red in tooth and claw.

Oh, almost forgot to tell you. Last night on BBC Radio 2 (yes, I own one of those) I heard a girl called Kate Rusby sing a song called ‘Moon Shadow’. Jeez it were good! It gave me goose fat all over my arms (or was that the kebab dripping???)

Yes, Sony’s Aibo dog can now blog. He takes pictures of his fondest moments of the day, and posts them. I’m hanging up my boots, slinging away my mouse and retiring. It’s sure to be better than mine.

hell for leather, bat out of hell, burning rubber, smoking guns, spitting gravel. desperate times, desperate measures, you pay the piper, you call the tune. rome wasn’t built in a day, a stitch in time, make hay while the sun shines. idle hands, devil’s workshop, devil in me, death on my right. wind in my hair, sun in my eyes, the call of the wild, the open road beckons, zen and the motorcycle, man and machine. Going for the big one, the glory days, a prize to treasure, a treasure to prize!

A bit of free association about my dissertation. 6 days to go!