Tuesday 20 September 2011

Glenda Jackson mail 2: the Sequel

Well, Glenda Jackson didn't reply to my last e-mail about the mushroom, which hurt me deeply, so I decided, in my infinite wisdom (and spare time) to write another one, asking for information. This e-mail is as follows:

Dear Ms Jackson and whomever else may read this,

Many months ago I wrote to you regarding a problem which me and a number of my fellow Hampstead-dwellers have faced recently; the disappearance of the large red fake mushroom from opposite the Spaniard's Inn. I originally sent an electronic-mail detailing the problem and trying to highlight the trauma felt by those who passed it everyday and have sorrowfully noticed its loss, such as myself, who live in this constituency, and was told to send another e-mail with my postcode to prove that I lived within this glorious constituency. Yet since then no information has been forth-coming, leading me to seriously consider moving away to somewhere new, a land where my MP will care about the everyday plight of the common man who are under his or her care, a land of the free, a land of love. 

Yet, being practically Hampstead born and raised (except for the born bit and quite a lot of the raised bit) I have felt some reluctance at moving away, and thus have decided to give you, my MP, who cruelly left be feeling betrayed and abandoned earlier, one more opportunity to show that you DO care for us plebs who have given our lives and our souls to you in dedication (though, of course, in a completely non-Satanic and non-pagan way, damn those heretics!). Besides, there's always a possibility that you didn't receive my distress letter, which, though showing a certain incompetency in the system, is forgiveable. 

THUS, I would like to request some information under the Freedom of Information Act, which i presume that one such as yourself is aware of, otherwise this would be a situation requiring the introduction of a certain acquaintance of mine known as the awkward turtle. The information I request is as following: 

-What is the MP of Hampstead and Kilburn's stance towards the idea of National Service?

-Should a situation arrive in which King Arthur and his many knights return to England and the land of the living from Avalon, as Geoffrey of Monmouth prophecied, would the MP of Hampstead and Kilburn vote towards remaining with the current system of government or accepting him as our leader once more?

-Are there an designs in place in the constituency of Hampstead and Kilburn to ensure the safety of its residents from a possible invasion by Mole-people from underground?

I would appreciate if the information could be returned to me in electronic mail  to the address REDACTED, BITCH

My address is REDACTED, BITCH, and my name will be at the bottom of this electronic mail, you know, so there's a sort of build-up to the climax, and you'll be eagerly awaiting it.

Not there yet.

Yours flamboyantly, yet rather elegantly,

Not yet either,

Christopher Shapiro

So, bitch legally has to reply withint 20 days with the information I requested, which is jolly-well fun. Unless she believes that to find out all that information and send it to me it'll cost over 400 pounds, but that's just silly, and we don't do silliness. 

Tuesday 17 May 2011

Another sarky letter

Well, for ages I've been receiving letters from Foxtons asking me to sell my house, and I decided that, as I have received multiple letters over multiple years, to not reply would just be rude. But then I realised, I could be even ruder if I DID reply. And thus this abomination was born:

Dear Mr Rafter,
I'm writing to you about your recent letter to me asking me to sell my property on REDACTED, BITCH. It is one of a plethora which I have been receiving for over 2 years now, and I have finally decided to respond to these letters, as I was raised by my parents to reply to all letters sent my way. I apologise for the fact that I didn't write to you before, but I merely assumed that the letter was a one-off, then a two-off, and so on, and that there was little urgency for my property to be sold to provide for these poor people looking for places to live. Yet I have a dilemna, as much as I hate to see other people dissatisfied, I do not feel that I am in a position to sell this property to them.
I realise that I sound cruel, but I cannot sell my property. Not to you, and not to your "Corporate tenants urgently seeking properties". The reason for this is twofold. Firstly, the property I live in is rented by a landlord, the identity of which is most assuredly not me. I'm sure you've been so desperately eager to house your poor, starving company, that you've neglected to check who actually owns the property, rather than the tenants, and for this I forgive you, as your humanitarianism has clearly been the cause of this oversight. Instead, I commend your altruism, and wish more people were so blindly eager to serve others with such zealous abandon, as you are.
The second reason that I cannot sell you this property is one which I'm sure was also overlooked by you and your staff, and thus is completely forgiveable. Though you may smack your palm to your forehead and think of yourself as a massive fool or a complete bletherskate for not realising this, do not, for clearly you are driven by pure humanitarianism, and are not merely some corrupt, money-grabbing parasite. This small, almost inconsequential fact, is that I am currently 17, and thus not in a position to legally own ANY property in the United Kingdom (or Northern Ireland). Despite the fact that you've been sending these letters to me since I was 15, when I was still unable to even buy myself a pint and a meal, the first I passed off as a clerical error, the fact that I continuously have been receiving letters from you shows that your blind devotion to the greater good of humanity clearly hid this fact from you, as you were over-keen to help others. However, I heartily inform you that you have been getting closer, as my 18th birthday happens to fall upon the 28th of this month of May. Your choice of whether or not to send me a gift is optional.
There is one more matter which I would like to talk to you about, and that is addressing letters to me and my sister, as you occasionally do, under the assumption that we are married. Though my sister is a beautiful and charming young lady, I find that she is not my type, as I prefer my women to be slightly taller, darker of complexion, not possessing the same face as I do and genetically unrelated to me. Yes, I realise that I appear rather picky, but I am much more lenient on the first two points, as women of all complexions and heights can be attractive. 
Thus, to summarise this e-mail; I cannot sell my house because I am a tenant and a minor, and I shy away from incest. I am terribly sorry if any of this news has upset you or inconvenienced you, but I do hope that you can find this company a home, yet if you cannot, I would recommend putting it up for adoption, and would only resort to euthanasia as a last resort, as even the mangiest and unloved of companies deserves the sacred gift of live. Again, I apologise for not informing you of these facts earlier, and do not at all blame you for not checking your facts, as you clearly were so single-mindedly determined upon helping others and not merely looking for a commission like certain ladies of the night scrounging about for a spot of benzoylmethylcgonine in its freebase form.

Yours apologetically, 
Christopher Shapiro.

Do note, that the freebase form of benzoylmethylcgonine is crack cocaine. I will inform you kiddies if he replies. 

Tuesday 26 April 2011

MA CREATIVE JUICES ARE FLOWING!

When one's creative juices are flowing like the stormy seas being poured forth from the cup of the Gods over the lands, I believe one should write. Or type. Or somehow release these magical energies into a neanderthal's left boxing glove. No, not his good pair, the slightly small ones made of sabre-tooth fur.

 Okay, now that we've got all that sensical tedium out of the way, let's talk about what really matters in society today. Puns. Puns are fun, that's why they rhyme. Don't even ask why Reich and bike rhyme, that way doth Madness lie. So unless you like their hits such as "Baggy Trousers" "House of Fun" and "It Must be Love", then i definitely wouldn't recommend it. If you do, well can you ask them why dyke also rhymes with that? And I mean the canals, not the lesbians.

Anyway, who do you think coined the term "dike" for lesbians? Let's look it up. No, wait, even better, and much more logical and rationally, let's guess. Maybe it's because in the Netherlands all the lesbians congregate to the dykes for lesbian activities such as golf and scissoring, so they were called, in Dutch "Dikengathereren". When the English and American peeps came over to Dutch-land to fight the power of love, they shortened this word to "dike", and thus the term was born. You're welcome.

Now, let's return to the original topic of this post: Jesus. Jesus is a great man. He fought bravely for what he believed he should fight for. Ahh, yes, Jesus, aka AAron Aguilera, a wrestler who during his time in the WWE made up 'Los Conquistadores' with Uno. Didn't expect that shit of a knowledge bomb, did ya?

Okayokayokay, this time, something actually substantial. Let's go for silly similes. Or silliles. Not to be confused with the Sill Isles, just off the Window Peninsula or the Sillilillies, a particularly foolish plant. Wordplay is fun. As is other stuff that rhymes with it, such as birdplay, curdplay, Kyrgplay and the much under-appreciated Microsoft Zune. I kid, nobody likes the zune. I don't even know what it looks like/is. Seriously.

You may have noticed that at the beginning of each paragraph i mention something, but by the second sentence i get distracted. Let me tell you why. When a man and another man love each other very much but not in a way where they want to put various things in each other, they usually eventually end up buying a small Chilean man together, cruelly naming him Jorge (no, Jorge!). Now, like a giant wood in summer with a couple of tits perched on it, this is slightly dirty. Except the simile was much dirtier. Especially considering that birds rarely bathe, and when they do it's in those little bird-bath things filled with rain water and other bird's shit.

Okay, enough for now, I'm not sure if anyone will read all this random shit. But my creative juices are flowing, all around my mouth and starting to drip down my chin. Now I have to do that thing where you kind of wipe it away with your wrist, but you're holding the juicy fruit in that hand and fencing against a young Singaporean Rapscallion armed with a fine Toledo blade with the other.

Don't do drugs, kids. And don't do kids. Young goats have enough on their plates.

Monday 4 April 2011

I'm bored, so i wrote a song!

...about Gordon Brown. Actually I just changed a few of the lyrics to Golden Brown.

Gordon Brown, texture like snow,
Always sad- for all that he knows.
During the day,
laugh though he may
Always a frown with Gordon Brown.

Everytime, just like the last,
Troll like face shows his scars past,
outside he's hard,
like Charizard.
Always a frown, with Gordon Brown

Gordon Brown, quite a temptress,
Though he failed to charm Nick Clegg.
So did he go
on the morrow
Always a frown, with Gordon Brown

Always a frown, with Gordon Brown
Always a frown, with Gordon Brown
Always a frown, with Gordon Brown
Always a frown, with Gordon Brown

And there you have it. A song about Gordon Brown. With a pokemon reference.

I miss him. Sometimes at night I think about him and just hug my pillow tighter that much tighter....

ANYWAY, I enjoyed doing that, so I'll probably end up doing another parody thing with someone else. Maybe even the G Meister himself again, you never know. 

Tuesday 29 March 2011

SUCCESS! (partially)

That's right, my letter to Glenda Jackson has received recognition! Admittedly not from her yet, but from her office. Something about Parliament anyway. Well, here's the reply:

Dear Mr Shapiro,

Thank you for contacting Glenda Jackson. Unfortunately, we do not have a record of your postal address. We request this for two reasons. Firstly, to confirm that you are indeed Glenda's constituent as Parliamentary protocol prevents us acting on behalf of a non-constituent. Secondly, when we contact another agency or Department with an enquiry, they usually respond in writing and we would like to pass their response on to you.

Given that your email indicated a high level of personal distress, I suggest you contact http://www.britmycolsoc.org.uk/Who may be able to give you mushroom related advice.

Best Wishes,

Mrs Rebecca HenneyParliamentary Assistant to Glenda Jackson MP
T: 020 7219 4008
M: 07507 864 873
F: 020 7219 2112


Good, eh? However, as you may have noticed if you clicked on her link, it led to a website about real mushrooms, which, as we all know, are infinitely less cool. Here's my reply, it's short and boring, but I'm hoping it'll get the job done.
I live in [CENSORED, I LIVE HERE, DON'T YOU INTERNET RAPISTS BE FOLLOWING ME. THAT'S RIGHT, I'M LOOKING AT YOU] . And I'd like to clarify that the mushroom in question whose disappearance I am outraged at was in fact a plastic mushroom, not a biological one. Thank you very much for your time.Chris Shapiro

So we now just play the waiting game... again...

Also note that I tried to be polite and not go way over the top, because I want my suggestion taken seriously. Just because it's jokes.

Saturday 26 March 2011

Abusing Democracy

Well, I realised that this weekend I had a slew of homework to do, I though I should write a letter of complaint to my local on a matter which has affected me deeply. Here is the letter I sent:

Dear Ms Jackson,
I am a concerned member of the Hampstead and Kilburn society, who has recently been outraged by a travesty that has occurred in the area. This cruel abomination has wreaked untold havoc upon my life, and a journey which I make twice a day has become a painful odyssey, though for me it used to be a calming and relaxing part of my day. As a result of this horror I have felt much more stressed out and depressed than I ever used to! I know I am not the only person to be affected by this loathsome offence, as I have discussed the matter with many people who have also had their minds torn asunder due to the severity of this inhumane atrocity. I would rather live under a Napoleonic dictatorship than be part of a society which allows such a sordid and vile thing! I believe such an act should be punishable in the same way that disregarding the Geneva Convention is, and that the perpetrator of the crime should be forced to recompense all those affected by his reprehensible offence!
I think you know exactly what I'm talking about. Yes, the red mushroom which previously stood on the wall opposite the Spaniard's Inn just before the phone box has been removed! I am sure that this isn't the only letter you will receive about this, as I am well aware that the Spaniard's Road is used by a plethora of people on their daily journeys, who used to enjoy their routines but now must make Herculean efforts to repeat it daily. This hellish torment must end, and I must regrettably inform you that if this travesty is not addressed, I would be unable to bring myself to vote for you again. I feel as though I am suddenly being interrogated by some sort of Spanish Inquisition, and as I did not expect this, it is doubly troubling. 
I believe that this vile act of vandalism must be repaired! Though I accept that to rebuild such a monument will surely take time, if it is not replaced by September, I will be forced to move out of the constituency, and maybe even the borough itself. I do not mean to place such a burden upon your shoulders, one which even Atlas would be unable to carry, but it is these weighty issues which you, as an upstanding and proud member of the community, has chosen to tackle, and I commend you for it! 
Many thanks, Chris
 Yeah, so I'll tell you all how that goes. Apparently she's legally obliged to reply to me, which makes it all the more fun. And apologies to Dan for not including him in this, I thought it would just take too long, and we do need this subject to be addressed as soon as possible. This took precedence over coursework. Plus I can do this without being a hypocrite because democracy is stupid and too romantic a political notion to work properly, like communism, but much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much less stupid. Because everything is.

Sunday 20 March 2011

Literally pure filler

Well, since I haven't done a blog post for almost a month and am currently so hungover that I'm trying to book a flight to the Dignitas clinic in Switzerland [EDTIOR'S NOTE: not to be confused with whatever abomination this is] (don't know why I linked either of those), I thought I should do one before the full month. In a humble gesture towards Matty, Ben and Dan, who've all done stupid blog posts, I'm going to do a combination of them all, and write about one of my days last summer, in a really sarky tone, which is completely fictional and has undertones which imply that I'm a disturbed psychopath. Not that you get generally normal and fine psycopaths. Hmm, that could open itself up to a massive tangent... but it won't.

SO, last summer I went to...um... the unforgettable...Canada (it's the middle way between Poland and America), and loads of DEAD BABIES WHICH I SEE EVERYWHERE kept implying to me that they wanted to know what happened (obviously they were implying it, I'm not just a massive cock who thinks that jokes are all subtle implications of something. A cigar is never a cigar either). So I decided, completely originally and not at all in a way which piggybacks off of an age-old idea, to write about my best and worst day, because since I left nursery school (for strangling the hampsters) I've missed doing stupid redundant exercises about my holidays.

Well I say it's my worst day, it's still a day which I will cherish, because it's helped form me in a way which isn't overused by everyone and so incredibly cheesy that lactose-intolerant people can't even be near. So, I'd been staying with a friend I met on this online forum for a few days, and I was meant to head on to a far-removed shack in the woods owned by another friend I'd met online, though I met this friend here. Anyway, so in the morning I woke up needing the toilet, so I had to make my way to the outhouse, carefully avoiding all the dead squirrels we had tortured and left to die in the garden the night before(as you do), and as I was doing this, I tripped on an amputated squirrel arm, and fell straight into the mud! But it was really great and I got in touch with nature, so I was not at all annoyed.

Anyway, after I left the house, on my way to get the bus, I passed a really close friend of mine I'd had chats with on this internet forum, and I decided to run away from him to avoid an awkward conversation, because I'm like that. Luckily, he's in a wheelchair, so I was soon able to escape him, but I realised that in the process of running, I'd become lost. I checked my phone for GPS, but being a massive idiot, I'd let it run out of battery! Let me stress how much of an idiot I was here. I was in a foreign country where I didn't really know anyone well, except from the internet, and I'd forgotten to do this basic single thing which would have made my life SO much easier. Wow. So. Fucking. Dumb.

So, I kept on asking people where the bus stop was, but people didn't seem like they knew, they'd avoid looking into my eyes and would mumble "sorry, I don't know" as I wandered around, dead half-eaten (by me) camel-baby slung across my shoulder. So I started walking around, but I couldn't find it myself! Eventually a homeless person, who later introduced himself to me as Crack-pipe Rick, stopped me as I was following the helpfully placed signs which said "bus stop" and indicated a direction, and told me that the government were lying to us with those signs, and not to trust them. To me, I assumed that his explanation was probably more logical and likely than the idea that I couldn't follow a simple fucking arrow system. Anyway, he told me to follow him to the bus stop, so I did, because that isn't how at least 90% of missing people are found dead in a river. We got to the stop, with a brief detour as he stole all my money and raped me-which I have to admit, I enjoyed- but as the last bus had already gone, I decided the best and most logical thing to do here was to tie myself down to the bus stop and sleep. However someone unzipped one of my bags and just took all the stuff out of it, and unfortunately for my later pleasure, it was my camera which he stole, full of pictures from the squirrel re-enactment of the Spanish Inquisition from the previous night.

I didn't sleep well because i kept on rolling onto my bag, and the cat which I kept in there to vent my frustrations, sexual or violent, on kept on miaowing really loudly. Eventually a bus came, which I promptly got on, which was swell. I was planning on catching up on my beauty sleep on this bus, as I was well tired from running away from my crippled compadre, but there were loads of interesting people on the bus who I spoke to. I met a black man who helpfully told me all about the break mechanism and all the terrible scenarios that would play out if they failed, an asian woman who told me she was an aspiring actress before offering me a handjob for twenty dollars or head for fifty, and a group of drug addicts who were going to knife a businessman for money for their next hit. IT WAS SO AWESOME.

Anyway, when I got off the bus my friend called me [ED: please don't complain about continuity here] and told me I couldn't stay in his cabin tonight, which was a weird call, because I heard a woman in the background screaming "Help me! Please! Don't kill me! What are you going to do with that knife?" So I wistfully smiled and said sure, I'd join him tomorrow, and went around looking for somewhere to stay. As I was short of cash, I decided to whore myself out as a nice, healthy 17 year-old boy. I tried 3 or 4 people, but they all asked me how old I was and if I knew that prostitution, especially child prostitution, was illegal, upon which point I promptly ran away. What dicks. Eventually though I got a client, and I just slept over at his house.

I was going to do my good day after this, but I'm such a massive dick that I won't, I'll just do it later. Now I have to go pluck all the feathers from a sparrow which got caught in my trap, then throw it in water to see how its birdsong changes.

Monday 21 February 2011

Rant #1: DC's BS

First in a series of little rants. Enjoy.

David Cameron's "Big Society" is a society where the people help run their local governments and can therefore tailor their needs. It means that people will vote for the actual party they want to vote for, rather than being torn between self-interest in their local government and their higher political ideals. Now, as political philosophy goes, great idea I guess, improving the voting system, making everything more democratic. But, as Mr Newton constantly reminds us in his set (especially Jack Cohen), politics has to be practically sound as well. That's why democracy completely falls flat on its arse, but that's a rant for another time. Anyway, let's look at this from a more realistic perspective. What Cameron is doing is, for all intents and purposes, removing any party policy from mattering in local politics, as well as making the local politician a puppet to the outspoken in the community who decide to harass him into voicing their opinions. Which I guess is what English democracy needs. But then the local politician becomes redundant. So why pay him so much? Or at all? And surely the whole idea behind the big society, put into layman's terms is just a typical childish tantrum, saying "Well if you're going to make fun of me while I'm doing it, I'm not playing any more! You do it!"

The whole point of a local politician is to run things while OTHER PEOPLE DO THEIR JOBS. I mean getting everyone to pitch in and help is a lovely idea and all, but so is giving everyone a jet-pack so we can all fly around everywhere, but we all know that's stupid. So what we're doing is letting the guy who's supposed to be running our borough relax while everyone else does the work. Which is basically like splitting the country up into tiny, really shit autocratic states, whose rulers are basically puppets who get paid to do nothing. So just scaled down version of England as it is now.

The professional politician, the expert, is being told to stand down so that the people he's meant to be helping can basically do whatever they want. Now, does nobody see how imbecilic that is? How about we introduce this to all aspects of life? Instead of having doctors who actually know what they're doing and are part of the NHS, we should just get everyone who wants to pitch in come round the hospitals and give the diagnoses on patients and tell the professional doctors what to prescribe them and which operations to perform on them! That's a great idea!

Don't think so? No shit.

(Also love how Big Society can be abbreviated to BS)

Sunday 13 February 2011

The Summary

As I promised, I'm going to write about Matty's last night. It actually turned out to be quite a good party, nobody going over the top or anything, no massive mess in the morning, everyone had a good time, no random militant guys tried to crash it. Oh, wait...

I'm only going to include stuff which I haven't been begged by someone not to ever tell people about, so it might seem a bit brief. Think I'll do this person by person rather than with a timeline, it's easier and I can't remember the exact sequence of events.

Well, at first when people started arriving it seemed fine, all was good, but then after about an hour, the brilliant and wise Jack Stuart got so drunk we had to drag him upstairs to Matty's sister's room, where he spent the night vomiting and trembling, which we assumed wasn't a good thing. At like 4 I got a text from his mum asking where the fuck Jack was, and apparently she didn't sleep at all last night, so I assume he's fucked. He woke up at like 6 and went home, with a phone full of missed calls and frantic texts, and lacking a sock. At least he didn't do any whaling.

Actually, you know what, shoulda started with me. Well I got there early because my internet was down at home, and had a lovely chat with his sister, in which, despite Matty and my best efforts to censor me, drugs, paedophilia and threesomes came up. When people came, as I said, it was mellow, I had a few of my massively shit self-rolled fags, mostly to stay outside away from the people I hated. Alas, my plan failed, as they soon followed me out, but I bore through it mostly. Later I went to get Lucy from KFC, where I met a rabid Wolff. After getting back we mostly stayed upstairs, chilling with caterpillar cake. We heard the doorbell go, and me and, I think Laura, went to answer it, upon which some guy we don't know tries to get in. I grab his arm and ask him to leave, then he does the same and starts getting militant. Now, I was holding caterpillar cake and some beer, so I didn't particularly feel violent, for once, so I basically just kept on asking him to leave, even offering him caterpillar cake, albeit belittlingly (couldn't resist myself, I'm not a total pacifist). Anyway, one of his mates comes and tries to get him to leave a well, and after a couple of minutes, they dragged him out. After that, not much happened again for a while (which I'm allowed to speak of), mostly just making jokes with Lucy while Calyx got angry at us. There was a bit of fun with Jack, but that might have been before the guy trying to come in. Anyway, much later, the guys tried to come in again, but this time Joe answered the door, and when I came they were squaring off with each other, so I resignedly sighed, shared an eye-roll with my counterpart in their group, and started to break things up, which basically worked, except when we shut the door he did bang on it like he thought it was Keira Knightley. Anyway, a bit after this, downstairs, I was sitting with Calyx, and I was suddenly struck by how fucking hilarious the whole night was, and I started laughing. A couple of hours later, I stopped. You never really think about it, but laughing works your whole upper body out, including your face, arms and neck, so right after I stopped I became incredibly tired and in pain. After that not much happened with me, I declined the offer of making food at 3 am and instead chose to go to sleep, which mostly consisted of lying on a bed in pain. In the morning, not much happened, we just cleaned up a bit and left.

Fuck it, here's just a list of other stupid shit which happened:
-Batu arrived with these two, for lack of a better term/any elegance, ugly dog-women, and started getting off with one for ages;
-Flaxy got head from, what is now forever in my mind known as, the sperm whale outside on a bench;
-Not sure I'm allowed to mention this, but Joe and Laura got a bit "friendly";
-Amber took about 10 minutes to try and figure out how to use a camera, which took Jack (not yet paralytic and having a seizure) about half a second to work;
-I have a feeling Hannah and Dan did something (not together, I mean something stupid and funny, not dirty and v. wrong);
-A Christian was thrown to a Wolff, very Nero-esque, but slightly more French (wow, I'm so sublte. I could write the lovelines in the Broadsheet).

Anyway yeah, that's a brief summary of all I can be really bothered to remember about yesterday. There were way too many people I hate though, including Penny, King-size Penny, Aryan, and more!

Saturday 12 February 2011

Let's see where this goes

Well, I'm bored so I decided to get back into regular posting, but as I don't particularly have much I want to talk about, I'll probably just end up writing a brief essay on something historical, because that's what I always do. But before I do, brief summary of what's been happening recently.

Yesterday I escaped from the clutches of the she-devil by going home at 1, and went back up to Highgate to meet Jack and Jilly, who had, by the time I'd run into them, met the Oxford Crew, except Jonno, who arrived later. We jammed there, until 7ish when Ben, Robbie and Matty met us to go to Gerrans', which was a massive shitfest, and we ended up not doing much except having free drinks and smoking basically. On the way back we had some laughs, and on the tube My skin quickly caught fire, so I got off and walked up to Hampstead, along the way being offered a 3 some by a strange couple, which I guess is strangely flattering. Today I experimented with ground nuts and fruits in a rollie to add taste, but quickly found out that the resultant paste isn't flammable. The other ones I rolled are all quite shit, and the last 2 are stupidly fat. I'm like 90% sure by now that my finger's aren't nimble enough for this.

Tonight's Matty's birthday thing, where it's like 60% people I hate, which should be fun... Added to the entertainment factor is the fact that Batu, in a randomly militant move, has decided that he wants to beat up Jack, which, let's face it, we all understand, but Batu's reasoning is bollocks. So that should be jokes. But there'll be booze and babes (excluding babes), so it shouldn't be too bad. I'm feeling a relaxed night anyway, so I'll probably just do what I always do at Matty's and just sit in a comfy chair with a beer, only interacting with people who come talk to me. But we'll see about that. I'll probably post something tomorrow.

Which reminds me, I have a new theory involving me and alcohol. Let's format this nicely.

Jagermeister
Made from: Mixed herbs and roots
Best method of consumption: Shots
Why I should never drink it: I feel really hot when I drink it, so the point where my skin feels like it's on fire.
Upsides: I was fine outside in the 5 degree night wearing just a shirt
Downside(s): I can't take the tube because I feel too hot, and I occasionally may or may not strip to alleviate the heat under such circumstances.

Wasn't that nice and prettily done?

Thursday 10 February 2011

Classical Keen-ness

While doing the Classics essay "How important to the Aeneid are the relationships between parents and children and what was the significance of these relationships to readers in the reign of Augustus?" I started to deviate into all the actually interesting historical links and Augustan messages in it. I've decided that if by the end of the year we haven't done an essay like that, I'll probably just write it for fun anyway, using the excuse that it's a revision aide, but actually because I'd love to write that sort of essay. I hadn't done any really interesting Classics essays in ages, and I was starting to regret applying for Ancient History, especially since I've been doing loads of really interesting Fundamentalism essays in RS, and I was really close to applying to do Theology (or as Dan would pedantically say, read Theology). Even in the essay I included some completely irrelevant material about Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus Cunctator, The Great Delayer, who arguably saved Rome from destruction by Hannibal Barca's Mercenary army.

Which brings me to another point, the Second Punic War, in my opinion, should be studied much more, as it was one of the greatest wars in history. The death tolls were not matched until over 2000 years later in the First World War, and it established Rome as the power it eventually became, though arguably it was the First Punic War that established Roman ambitions. What is undeniable is that by the Third Punic War, Rome had territorial ambitions outside of Italy, which it had never exhibited before the Punic Wars. In fact, before the Wars Rome was confined purely to the Italian peninsula, and exhibited no ambitions, having 2 previous treaties with Carthage allowing them naval dominance of the Mediterranean, as she was a largely agriculturally based power at the time. Also, no power at the time would have been, frankly, stupid enough to challenge Carthage in the sea, as her naval power was long established, from her sailors expeditions round the Horn of Africa around 500BCE to her more than likely expedition to America, evidenced by Paraiba tablets which had Phoenician inscriptions, on it, now unfortunately lost due to a rebellion in the area after it's 1872 finding. This stone had Phoenician inscriptions on it, though at the time they were believed to be grammatically incorrect, modern research has proved, using photographs of it, that what was originally thought by Ernest Renan to be grammatical errors were grammatical features of the language not yet grasped at his time. Also, on a Phoenician coin found, there was a map of-what is thought to be- their view of the world, including much of Europe, including Britain, Africa and its Horn, and what is almost unmistakably the Americas. Also, many statues in the Americas depict men with flared nostrils and high brows, features common of Negroid men, not the North Americans, whose brows were much lower.

Anyway, I was sidetracked for a bit. The Punic Wars were the largest conflicts in Europe for millenia, and they helped develop Rome from an agricultural and peaceful nation into an expansionist martial power. Carthage's naval defeat by the Romans at the battle of Mylae was unanticipated by anyone in the ancient world, probably even the Roman fleet itself, especially as the Roman force was outnumbered by the Carthaginians. Yet their victory, as almost all victories of this nature are, was due to their innovation of the corvus, a "beaked" platform which could be swivelled from the Roman ships, quinquiremes copied from a beached Carthaginian vessel, and would hook the more nimble and skilled Phoenician sailors to spot, allowing the Roman soldiers, who were more skilled (though at the time they were mustered farmers, not professional soldiers), to cross and capture their opponents. This completely dispelled the idea of Carthaginian supremacy in the Mediterranean, and helped the Romans defeat their opponents, despite Carthage's superiority. It should be noted here, that the corvus was soon abandoned due to it's unwieldy nature, and the fact that ships equipped with it were in severe danger in storms, as the device weighed many tonnes.

The tactics and innovations of the Punic Wars remained in history for millennia, until the change in warfare brought by the railway and to a lesser extent firearms, though Napoleon still used many Hannibal-like tactics in his campaigns. Now, it is often argued that Napoleon was a poor general as he didn't create innovative new tactics himself, but I would disagree, as the mark of a brilliant general is not just innovation. Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus Major is unarguably one of the greatest military leaders of the Roman world. Yet he didn't innovate at all. He simply took copied Hannibal's unorthodox(at the time) tactic, of arranging maniples of infantry between cavalry, and outflanking the opposing infantry using cavalry. In a twist of irony, Hannibal was defeated by his young opponent (or perhaps more accurately protégée) at Zama using exactly the same tactics with which he had achieved his greatest victory at Cannae in 216 BCE, a battle so bloody that the death toll of that battle was again remained unmatched until the World Wars. The infantry in the centre engaged each other, while the cavalry of either side met. Prior to this battle, the Romans had stolen Carthage's previous secret weapon, the Numidian cavalry along with their prince Massinissa(who lived to be 90, and was renowned for fighting and still being virile at that age), by aiding him in a civil war. Numidian cavalry were the elite cavalry of the Ancient World, and were practically unbeatable.

Therefore, as the cavalry fought on the flanks, the Carthaginian cavalry, made up of lesser riders, were defeated, and the Numidians chased them behind Carthaginian lines. They left the battlefield while chasing their fleeing opponents, and as they did, the Carthaginian infantry, which included powerful Gaulish and Iberian footsoldiers, pressed their advantage, and came close to breaking the Roman line. Yet at this crucial time, the Numidians turned back, striking at the unprotected Carthaginian back and flanks, eventually decimating the army. Hannibal lost, though arguably, and in my opinion, the better general, as his weak troops let him down. At this point I will note that at Zama Hannibal did have elephants, but they were useless, as by now it was common knowledge how to deal with them, and the Romans easily turned them away beforehand. This is why I hate that Hannibal is often associated with elephants, as he barely used them, most of them having died during his crossing of the Alps, and those that remained were hardly used, or effective. He should be associated with cavalry, as he, like Alexander before him, used them to great effect in an innovative new way, which his opponents didn't expect.

The Punic wars allowed Rome to become the military power that it became, which in turn led to the spread of Christianity. So to trace it all back, you can claim, as I do, that the Mamertines, who in 288 BCE captured Messana(modern Messina) and asked both the Carthaginians and the Romans for aid, are the reason that right now, Christianity in all its forms is the largest religion in the world, and has such wide reaching effects.

So, I've basically already decided what I'm going to write about in my dissertation for my third year at Uni, and to be honest, I already had by last year. I'll probably write another mini essay like this about the Aeneid and it's historical links, as is said, one about Napoleon, his classical inspirations and aspects of his generalship,  and possibly one about the Sengoku period, which despite what Matty's shit book says, exists, though I'll admit that I've forgotten a surprising amount about that period, and most of the little that I can remember involves the fact that at the Battle of Nagashino the Tokugawa army used the line formation, for the first time ever in history, against the Takeda cavalry, completely decimating them and establishing the previously untrusted flint-lock rifle as the next innovative weapon.

Anyway, I'm actually going to sum up in this paragraph, as opposed to the last one in which I clearly failed despite my best attempts. So, I'm going to write my dissertation, in all likelihood, about the impact of the Punic Wars on History up till now. And I can't wait. If not that, it's going to be on the Classical links of something. Unfortunately, the only professor whose expert field was Carthage works at Cambridge, which I didn't even apply to, so I'll be at a disadvantage to people who want to write on more popular subjects, such as Greece or Rome. I guess it's the nature of a History and Ancient History course that I want to involve the two, and I might actually do it on the influence of the ancient cultures on modern, such as the various figures, such as the German Kaisers, Napoleon and even the Founding Fathers of America, who have tried to emulate the Roman government. There's another dissertation in the making, America as the Modern Rome, another thing which I noticed, and after finding in Jared Diamond's book Collapse that it was not just my theory, I became even more interested in. So yeah, this is a MASSIVE essay, especially for just a blog, but it's still fun.

Monday 31 January 2011

Saturday (what's been pieced together so far)

 Okay, so started the night at Jake's, drinking a bit of beer and vodka. Woke up at home, confused and bleary, at about 11. Here's what I've found out happened in between.

So at Jake's a get a bit drunk, last thing i remember is hugging a east-European pizza man who seemed uncomfortable, possibly because we all greeted him in our boxers and I was hugging him half-naked. Then, in no particular order, I set fire to my hair, set fire to my shoe, did some more shit, then on the way home punched a lamp-post, threw some bins at some street signs, threw a bin at a bus, lost my phone, was about to throw a bin at another street-sign when me and Joe were passed by a police car with sirens on chasing some other people, though the guys inside did stare bemusedly at me apparently. Then we parted at the 02 centre at about 3, I got on the N31 somewhere, got on the tube somewhere, got off Hampstead, and eventually got home.

That excludes all the texts off course, the highlights of which include:
-Asking dan if he has a 9 inch cock;
-telling someone random that one person likes another person(which apparently is also untrue);
-after having been asked by Matty if I was drunk replying "no, you're drunk" (albeit with many more typos)
-sending Anna loads of incoherent texts except part of one which quite clearly asked something about her party.

What I remember drinking includes 2 beers, 5/6 shots of vodka from an egg-cup, 2 mugs of vodka-juice, 2 mugs of scotch-lemon juice(which burnt my throat like fuck).

So moral of the story? I'm a jokes drunk, and should probably never drink liquor again.

Also, before you ask, yes, the pizza was yummy as fuck, In fact, I'm going to endorse domino's here.

Friday 28 January 2011

Escaping from American Whales

basically, me, jack and dan were at the tube station getting back from loddy's, and the 4 ugliest american girls you could imagine, 2 obese caucasians and 2 just ugly black girls, started hitting on us. Elevator down, they were with us, but then at the platform we "accidentally" got on a different carriage. Some guys in the same carriage were clearly laughing at our poor circumstances, and the next station we got off, which seemed like a massive par, but we had to anyway, and as soon as we turned the corner ran, much to the amusement of the guys who got off as well. Fuck we were lucky, they were trying to rape us.

In other news, we had a jokes night, except robbie and hannah didn't show because they're cocks, and I didn't get to finish all 12 of my beers. Weeks been pretty good, had random test in history today, but luckily we were allowed to use essay plans from ages ago, so wasn't too bad. Mccombes banter is lively as ever, re-enactment of Napolean's battle tactics the other day in central hall was jokes, as was our discussion of bourgeois foods and  funny shit like that.

Anyway, that's all for me for tonight, lads, so have a good one.

Tuesday 25 January 2011

New deal

How about I do a blog every 2 days? That'll give me more time and means i won't run out of topics as quickly. Few thoughts of the day were about how much easier it would be to become internet-famous rather than do work, like Charlie Mcdonnel or Alex Day, who do youtube videos and play in a band for money instead of working. They have similar backgrounds to me (London teens, or at least they were when they started) so I think they're probably a better example than someone like Craig Benzine, a 30 year old asthmatic from Chicago (but to be fair, he's better).

Also in my thoughts of today was "at what point during the school week is it socially acceptable for me to drink" and "if my sleep-schedule is completely fucked off compared to everyone else's, does that mean I can drink in the mornings?". But those are silly thoughts, so let's ignore them for now, eh?

What else? Oh yeah, Chuck's awesome, as usual (link if you've never heard of it), and work is not getting done. Think there was something else, but can't remember it. I'm sure if it;s important it'll turn up somewhere. Should check behind the sofa...

Anyway, bye all, I'm gonna go do something unproductive. Like sleep.

Sunday 23 January 2011

Hello there, sonny jim

Was thinking about possibly writing a blog for a while now. You know, just for my own interest rather than anything else. In fact I'd be surprised if anyone else actually read this. But anyways, I eventually only created this account so I could post a comment on Matty's blog where I could make an in-joke. Who said comedy never did anything productive? No-one, that's who.

Well I'll probably only make posts when something of interest happens, or whenever I feel a particular rant coming along, but theoretically it would be good if I could look back on this later and try and piece together what I did, like a man waking up after a heavy night with just a load of texts on his phone and a hangover. But what makes this extra cool is that pirate captains used to do it, and I like to see myself as a modern-day pirate. As in I talk and dress funny, attack people for shits and giggles, and drink a lot, rather than the boring Somalian kind that are all the rage nowadays.