Stupid Guides To Very Select Situations: #1- How To Tie Your Shoelaces Whilst Dangling Upside Down Over A Pit Of Lions

Have you ever encountered your nemesis on a day out, only to realise that you forgot your superhero costume at home, and are therefore defenceless to any attacks they might swing your way? Having succumbed to their superiority – just for the day – and ended up being placed in an abject position, did you then espy that your shoelaces were untied in the most frivolous of times to notice such a thing?

Looks like you need professional help! And I’m just the sort of professional (i.e. not a professional) that can provide you with that help you so desperately need. Do not fear death right now; the important thing for you to do at this very instant is to tie those shoelaces as quickly as humanly possible!

But how does one go about doing that, you ask me? It’s rather simple, and if you follow my few clear guidelines, you too will never be caught dead with your shoelaces loose about your feet. Literally!

1. First, you’ll need to use your hands. Oh dear, looks like that rival was two steps ahead of the game when he attached you to that rope, because he seems to have tied your hands together too! If that is the case, try negotiating with the lions to chew off the strings binding your hands. Never know, the lions might feel sympathetic; has anyone tried this before? Didn’t think so, now desist with your mindless chatter and ask. Carefully persuade them not to bite off your hands themselves in the process; promise them a McDonalds Happy Meal each in return for their assistance.
2. Right, you can now do whatever you want with those hands. Look to your sides. There should be a knife/sharp shard of metal nearby – that’s always the case. Reach out for it. Blast! Your arms aren’t quite long enough, and apparently, you aren’t Inspector Gadget. Give up, and taunt the lions for a little bit.
3. Now that the lions are angry enough to want to maul you, and shred your face to ribbons, get back to the task at hand. Hey, I said task at hand! Laugh. Being suspended upside down for so long has started to make you feel delirious. Avoid the flying lions leaping from the floor below that have begun working in parallel with one another to tear you limb from limb.
4. Here’s the tricky part. Pay full attention, or you may miss what you need to do. Hunch your body over towards your legs, and tie your shoelaces like normal. Breathe a sight of relief and relax; you’ve done well.

And you’re done. Don’t worry about the lions; they’re not going to eat you. Turns out they’re just people in costumes, and any second now, the rope from which you are hanging from will break, leaving you with the ability to fight your way out of the lion’s den. Say a cheesy line or two whilst punching them each in the face to K.O. them. Formulate excuses and concoct a web of lies in preparation for the visit of the RSPCA, who were obviously confused about the legitimacy of the lions. Fly away, and pummel your nemesis to a pulp.

Remember though that if the lions weren’t co-operative with you at stage #1, they turned out to be real ones, and you became cat food.

And you were so young…

Joker Of The Pack

WARNING: The following article may be inclusive of plot spoilers, integral to the storyline of “Batman: The Dark Knight”. If you choose to read on, you do so at your own risk, knowing full well that whatever you read from this paragraph onwards could potentially ruin the film for you if you haven’t already seen it, and still wish to.

The portrayal of the Joker, by the late Heath Ledger, in the latest “Batman” film was always going to be something difficult to judge accurately for the professionals. Film critics wouldn’t usually dare mention a bad word about the acting ability of a dead man. But had he thrown in an awkward, shoddy performance for his penultimate appearance on the big screen, outright lies in the media simply wouldn’t have cut the treacle. In that scenario, critics would have found themselves in the middle of a Catch 22 situation: they wouldn’t be able to make disparaging remarks about the quality of Ledger’s depiction of the aforesaid character, yet at the same time, they had no opportunity to shovel tripe into the mouths of an eager British public.

They were saved the hassle. Ledger was immense. The level of control he had over his role was of the highest standard; the Joker was displayed as being past the brink of sanity, though whenever he was given the chance to explain himself, more often than not, he was lucid and the viewer could empathise with his reasoning (if not empathise, at least see some sort of understanding).

In the minutes that followed the ending, I had a question put forward to me:

“What did you think of Heath Ledger as the Joker?”

My immediate response was distinct approval for the man, as I’d been exceedingly impressed. When posing the question back, I was a little surprised to hear the person say they disagreed, believing that any actor could have been cast successfully to play the face-paint donning hoodlum of Gotham City. First of, I knew what he meant, and refrained from taking exception to the comment just because I held a different opinion. Sure, many an actor probably would have been able to convince the majority of an audience that they’ve done a good job playing the film’s primary villain. That, however, would only be applicable to showing how mad the Joker is. When it comes to proving the Joker is far less mentally incapable as he first appears to be, the list narrows; sifting out those who do not possess enough skill or talent. For that reason, I don’t think there were many other than Ledger in a position to outperform him.

Perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps I was so overwhelmingly dazed by the brilliance of the Joker himself, I lost sight of the man behind that face-paint and would have been just as enthralled if he were someone else. After all, Heath Ledger didn’t write the Joker’s lines, and those were what spoke to me.

By that reckoning, I should, if truth be told, be thanking the original writers for introducing such an intriguing character to the fold of the “Batman” series. It wasn’t solely his extensive knowledge of human behaviour that captivated me (he was aware that people are unperturbed when told a tank full of soldiers will die, but should they be alerted to the impending doom of an old woman nobody really knew, all hell would break loose), but his manipulation and exploitation of this knowledge was dumbfounding (may I make particular reference to the call for the public to kill the man about to expose the true identity of Batman within an hour in order to save the destruction of a hospital, or how he made hostages look like captors and vice versa late in the film).

You know you wouldn’t endorse the criminal activities that went along with his “special powers”. But I wanted to pay tribute to the intelligence he has at his disposal. So well thought out, I admire him for everything but his evil tendencies.

No More Brown Sound

The date: 25^th July 2008. A date that may stick long in the memory banks of a certain prime minister as the day he realised the damages to his government were irreparable. Is this finally the beginning of the end for Gordon Brown?

Today, the SNP pulled off one of the biggest shocks in by-election history by de-seating the Labour candidate, Margaret Curran, from her throne in Glasgow East. Prior to the election, it was this seat that had been considered one of the safest Labour-held seats in the UK. This is certainly no longer the case.

Usually, whenever there is an election, a swing of maybe 2-3% wouldn’t be considered as being out of ordinary. Any swing from 5% upwards, and we begin to enter the realms of drastic changes. The 22.54% swing seen today to launch Labour’s on-going plight into further chaos, was astounding, and quite frankly, could not have been presaged. No matter how poorly Gordon Brown has been handling the important issues that are crippling our economy and society, such a huge shift in voting patterns was never to be expected; the change was so shocking, a few suggested that this was a protest vote against Labour, not a supportive vote for the Scottish National Party.

Statistics were carried out, and in summary, all but 5 of Brown’s cabinet would have been axed from their seats with a swing that great. The casualties would have included big names such as Ed Balls (Secretary of State for Children, Schools and Families), Alistair Darling (Chancellor of the Exchequer), David Miliband (Secretary of State for Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs), and Jacqui Smith (Home Secretary).

What has transpired cannot be ignored; this is no longer the time to shrug off a defeat and promise to “bounce back” stronger than ever. The calls for a general election need to be heeded. And they need to be heeded soon.

If our country is going to progress any further (i.e. fight off the possibility of a recession, which is said to be less of a threat now than it was a weak ago), we need big changes at the top. Traditionally, I would never support backing the Tories. But right now, even though I’m worried the job they’ll accomplish won’t be much better than what Gordon Brown has done so far, there will be a level of improvement.

I never disagreed with Tony Blair as our PM. I personally thought he was the best PM we’d had in years. The only major furore he caused was over his foreign policies, namely Iraq and Afghanistan. Scratch that from the equation, and he was practically a model prime minister. It’s all too clear that we’ve put ourselves at the wrong end of a “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” situation. Fine, we didn’t elect Gordon Brown to succeed Blair, but we put so much pressure on the latter that he only had choice, and that was to step down. I would choose to have him back at the helm than David Cameron any day.

The sun is setting on Brown’s time in 10 Downing Street. The question is who will be the next to move in?

Cheese On Toast

Huh? What’s that? You were expecting that title to be metaphorical when placed in conjunction with the rest of the article, you say? Well, looks like you were wrong there, buddy. Oh dear! That’s right, wallow in your pit of shame, and don’t come back out until you feel as though a sufficient amount of time has passed for your humiliation to have completely dissipated!

In other words, shake your head for a couple of seconds, then look back at the screen.

Yes, that’s a literal title if you haven’t caught on just yet. I’m going to talk to you about the magnificence of cheese on toast. Wow, I’m getting goose bumps just thinking about that culinary extreme of a dish *licks lips*.

Do you think that this is going to make for a painful reading experience? I will be brief; the probability of such an occurrence is in or around the 80% range, which is too high a percentage to give you any real hope of this article not causing you to clench your teeth in pity for your eyes. I’ll admit that I’m impressed you’ve made it this far without conceding defeat to me. I like your style; perseverance is a fantastic quality to own. Let’s hope you don’t exhaust your total supply of it in your reading of my strangest piece of writing yet.

Still paying attention? Good. Let’s see, what do I have to say? Hmm, I’m pondering how to put it into words…you know when you get that mental block and all you can think of is on specific thing that isn’t at all relevant. Well, right now, the thing on my mind is a shoe. It’s not even a special shoe. Doesn’t make you run any faster. Doesn’t make you jump any higher. Doesn’t take its form as a mild-mannered shoe by day and a crime-fighting super shoe by night. No, sadly it’s only the first half of that previous sentence, minus the mild-mannered part. Have you ever seen a mild-mannered shoe? If you have, please send a photo of it to me at donotsendmeaphotoofyourshoe@ihateyourshoe.com. E-mails like that are well-received.

Hmm, what was I originally talking about? Trees, was it? *looks back at title* Oh, cheese! I’d prefer to talk about trees. Did you know that there are several groves of Big Trees in California, the most famous of which are the Calaveras grove and the Mariposa grove? The Calaveras grove occupies what may be described as a band or belt 3,200 feet long and 700 in width. It’s true; just type in “Random Facts about Trees” into Google. I copied and pasted nothing.

Something’s got to be done about those trees…deforestation isn’t really the greatest thing for the survival of a tree. That's "cutting" their life spans dramatically!

All that thinking about shoes has made me wonder where they are. I put them down safely in a corner somewhere earlier. Problem is I can’t remember which corner. There are only about a million in my house to look in. It’s getting late now anyway; maybe they do fight crime at night? Whilst wondering about that, I realise I’ve complete wandered off from what I was supposed to be talking about. And that’s what I tend to do a lot. Digress. Procrastinate. This article was solely meant to focus on that; how long could I hold up my putting off of talking about what I said I would in the first place?

Should you want to know what I truly think about cheese on toast, here it is:

It’s alright.

Pokémemories

Ah, the nostalgia! Those were the good old days; where you could solve the problem of boredom by simply whipping out your Game Boy (or Game Boy Color), shoving a copy of Pokémon Red/Blue/Yellow into it, and then playing with it until your heart was content. Pokémon always gave you the satisfaction you wanted so much; differing greatly from a childish twiddling of your thumbs all day long.

Oh ho ho! But Pokémon did not stop there! No, sirree! Pokémon continued to capture the curiosity of many more youngsters for years after its first release. To this very day, a total of 11 official hand-held games in the series (with an upcoming 12 having been announced) have circulated what has become one of the most lucrative video game-based market in the world, second only to Mario – this includes all available Pokémon merchandise in any form.

It’s hard to believe that Red and Blue first materialised in Japan some 12 years ago. The frenzy that ensued from the production of these two specific games was unprecedented. Joined with Yellow, they were a huge success; in the United States alone, Pokémon Red and Blue have shifted nearly 10 million copies.

Surely, when you get a craze on these sorts of levels, you’d expect it to fizzle out within a couple of years or so? Nothing could be further from the truth. More and more people began queuing up to jump on the Pokémon bandwagon. It seemed that everyone wanted a slice of Poké-heaven. The trading card game, the home console releases, the cheesy TV series (and of course, the unforgettably cheesier films that were commissioned, resulting from the television success), the clothing, the toys; there wasn’t a corner of the world those crazy little critters hadn’t conquered.

Fine! Point out my discrepancy, why don’t you?! No, they haven't made it big in Antarctica! The thought of a polar bear wailing in delight at having levelled up his Charmeleon enough to have it evolve into a Charizard is quite sickening…

But that’s the general feeling most normal people get when they look back at Pokémon. All the time they “wasted” on it: they cringe, they wince, they grimace. You shouldn’t allow yourself to do such a thing! Pokémon – whether you liked it or not – was an integral part of your childhood (if you’re around the same age as me. And male). And if that wasn’t the case, it is highly implausible to think that it didn’t affect you in some way or another. Perhaps your younger brother wouldn’t stop pestering you to buy him a copy for his birthday. Or that fun-loving uncle everyone’s sure isn’t “all there” bought a copy, and bragged to you about having beaten the Elite Four in just under a week. Maybe your next door neighbour ran out into their garden once, half-dressed, screaming “YES! I finally caught Articuno after 48 attempts!” Should they have been around the age of 12 – and again, especially if they were male – that sentence probably would have been preceded by a cacophony of grunts, snarls and expletives for the duration of the early afternoon. In fact, if they were male and any age above 12, you were bound to have heard that general sort of thing from the comfort of your own home.

Nonetheless, Pokémon was as fulfilling as it was infuriating. Thinking back, I can only picture my greatest achievements: beating my primary school friend Craig in our weekly “link-cable battles” with my level 100 Pikachu (I had the Yellow version), navigating my way through the maze that was Silph Co after endless hours of frustration to find Giovanni, and consequently hand his posterior to him on a platter, and completing Gold in little over a week and a half (Gold being one of the later produced games). Oh, and I had a shiny Blaine’s Arcanine that rocked from the trading cards!

Those were the days.

Nowadays, to alleviate boredom, you have to do something like this!

Poetry In Motion: #2- A School Shooting

There once was a boy named Bill;
His whole class he desired to kill.
He entered the school,
Yelled out “Let chaos rule”,
And soon began firing at will.

The police were quickly informed
Of the incident; they had not been forewarned.
They were hurriedly dispatched;
There was a criminal to catch
With a psyche not reflecting the norm.

Bill searched the canteen for victims,
Just hoping pure horror he’d inflict on them.
The slightest breath
Meant that Bill could detect
Someone else in the room, right behind him.

He whipped his head round in a flash,
And he saw a girl move with panache.
The sight of a .50 caliber
Was more than enough to startle her;
To the exit, she was trying to dash.

So, the boy then raised his firearm.
He aimed it at her, intending to harm.
He pounced on a table
That was clearly unstable,
And dropped the gun to his alarm.

Unsuccessful, he screamed a profanity,
And lost what was left of his sanity.
In his murderous rage,
He turned the next page
Of the book detailing this calamity.

He ran after her; wished her dead.
The girl stopped; begged for her life instead.
Her pleas he ignored;
Of her voice he grew bored;
He shot her point blank in the head.

Bill proceeded to laugh heartily.
From then on, he killed all he did see.
Some tripped while running away;
Bill shot them dead where they lay,
Defiling their bodies horribly.

The police now arrived on the scene,
To which Bill seemed to be somewhat keen.
Shotgun in hand,
He would make his last stand;
No more goals, no more hopes, no more dreams.

He took hostage a teacher; took cover
In a room that adjoined no other.
He found a bookcase,
Slid it out of its place
Whilst still surveying around for another.

Blood trickled out from his jaw;
A policeman had shot through the door.
Stumbling back in a fright,
To his captor’s delight,
He soon fell face down on the floor.

In the future, we look back and remember
That day from that long, dark December
Bill, who caused so much pain
(We won’t forget the boy’s name),
Previously thought just to have a bad temper.

But it’s important to know those who had died;
So many tears their families have cried.
Just think of the late
For the family’s sake,
And let them look back with pride.

Too often do we look back and remember school tragedies like this, instigated by a few people, and are only able to recollect the names of the guilty. At Columbine, it was Harris and Klebold; at Virginia Tech, it was Cho Seung-Hui. We aren’t to blame for this as the name of victims are not publicised as well as the names of the people behind the massacres. But next time you are reminded of one of these incidents, please think about the victims and the sadness caused by their deaths, rather than the traumatic impact the killers had. Thank you.

Beijing Duck

The 29^th hosting of the Summer Olympics takes place later this year in Beijing. And not too much later at that; the opening ceremony occurs in just 22 days. China stakes a claim to fame at present by representing the world’s fastest growing national economy – despite there still being widespread, remote areas within mainland China that do not see any of this additional money (those living in the largest, and best-known areas of the country take precedence over everyone else, i.e. the citizens of Shanghai, Beijing, etc).

We all have a vague idea of the discord shrouding these Olympics; the most notable antipathy to it stemming from the pro-Tibetan community, and their outrage towards the Chinese for, amongst other things, what they see in their eyes as a hypocritical stance on the government’s behalf to host the Olympics, since numerous reports pour out of China faster than water out of a kettle, stating the country defies a number of human rights laws. The human rights violations are in direct offence of what the Olympics are supposed to stand for: equality. These pro-Tibetan groups have also threatened to boycott the Games in order to pressurise the government further into giving Tibet its independence. Other safety risks concerning the Games include the danger imposed by potential terrorist attacks – with this risk heightened once Chinese police had uncovered a plot revolving around suicide bombers and kidnappings – and increased levels of damage to the environment by air pollution, since China did not have a stringent policy to clamp down on heavy pollution in place until fairly recently – made all the more apparent when in 2006, it was announced that China had surpassed the US in its rate of carbon dioxide emissions.

The Beijing National stadium, affectionately dubbed the “Bird’s Nest” for quite unambiguous reasons (if you must have it spelled out, it is so called due to its architectural structure), will host all track & field events in the Athletics discipline, and will too be the site of the opening and closing ceremonies.

There hasn’t been a great deal of media hype around the tournament itself. Mainly, it’s revolved around the issues suitably placed at China’s front door mat; a door mat that has been ineffectually swept clean by a dismissive government. Ergo, the focus placed upon the athletes about to take part in it has been nigh on absent in its entirety. The lack of adequate media attention is down to a need for the Games to start in a “hush-hush” mood, as not to provoke more scathing attacks from pro-Tibetan organisations or Amnesty International.

Nonetheless, adverse to the controversy, Beijing 2008 promises to be one of the most fiercely-competed yet. Nations like the United States are planning to bring their largest Olympic team thus far, and nine new events are to be participated in for the first time. There could be athletes contested medals from as many as 205 countries and dependent territories around the world.

If it runs smoothly, these Olympics could be the greatest ever. With that mind in it, it is vital to observe that “if” with warning. Should something major disrupt scheduling, that success may change to a catastrophe, worse than the respective American-led and Soviet-led boycotts of the 1980 and 1984 Olympic Games. The consensus is for the tournament to progress unimpeded.

Bear in mind that when they’re finished, London 2012 is next up on the Olympic timetable…

Artist Watch: #1- Brand New

Ignore the name. Brand New have been on the scene for the best part of a decade now, enjoying public fame and acclaim ever since the release of their second album, entitled Deja Entendu. They’ve previously toured as support for bands such as Taking Back Sunday and Less Than Jake, whilst they’ve also progressed through a multitude of musical genres (e.g. pop punk, alternative rock and post-hardcore). What makes this New York four-piece so special then? I set about finding an answer.

Brand New began life at the start of the millennium, as a venture on from a former band known as The Rookie Lot. That band existed from 1998 to 1999, and consisted of three Brand New members (Jesse Lacey, Garrett Tierney and Brian Lane). When The Rookie Lot disbanded, these three chose to play on together, and were soon joined by Vincent Accardi, to complete the line-up.

In 2001, the group released their debut album, Your Favourite Weapon. Though this didn’t kick-start a successful career in the music industry, it was certainly met with a fairly favourable reaction. What was most notable about this album was the strength of the songs' lyrics in general (an example being this excerpt from the track Mix Tape, which demonstrates a certain wit: “This is the first song for your mix tape. And it's short just like your temper.”), in direct comparison to those of the many other similar bands of that era; a skill that Lacey, the principal songwriter, has developed and transferred across to all subsequent albums, during the band’s lifetime so far.

It’s safe to say that in recent times, Brand New have had a chiefly melodic (and loosely acoustic) sound associated with their music – and it’s been self-adopted, but don’t be fooled into letting this detract too much attention away from their “anthem” style tracks (The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows, from Deja Entendu, is a prime example of this), which are just as pleasurable on the ear as the calmer songs tend to be (unless you decide to whack it up to full volume; by that point, you may hear what they have to offer for a fraction of a second, and then nothing more for the rest of your life).

The one big problem Brand New has is that they perpetually undersell themselves. Sure, they receive the plaudits for their work, but they aren't chart toppers; not by a long shot. They pick up far less promotional and press coverage than they should, and in addition, they choose to allow a very select selection of their songs out on to the open market as singles; despite having released 3 albums so far, only 5 singles have come in tandem. As a result, they are underrated (I myself admit that to this very day, I continue to regard them in a lower state that I should do, given my highly positive opinions of them), undervalued, and most importantly, are relatively unknown outside the US. It’s a shame that a band with such great potential to make it big will induce a great number of confused looks whenever their name is uttered in countries such as the UK.

Their third album, The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me, is, in my humble opinion, one of the best, most solidly constructed, and most beautiful collections of music tracks gathered on to one CD made to date. When listening, you can feel the toil and emotion that has been poured into every square inch of it. The enormous contrasts in sound made between each song are extraordinary, reflecting, yet building impressively on from the progress they made in Deja Entendu. Jesus, one of the two singles released, sets out an atmosphere of tranquillity, coupled with a drum beat to toe-tap to. It builds up slowly to a very powerful climax, heightening your senses along the way. Sowing Season, the other single, starts off gently, lulling you into thinking you’ve got something you can lay back and listen to in peace. After a minute or so; drums, bass, guitar and vocals hit you nearly all at once, impacting on you unforgettably. Luca will make your heart bleed, while the opening of Not The Sun is an earth shaker. The background, too, to several songs plays a vital role in polishing some of the spiky, rough edges that comes with the un-cleaned sound (it is evident that a few tracks were not re-recorded). Limousine (MS Redbridge) represents the death of a young girl, who was killed by a drunk driver. A fantastic variety of angles exist in this album, and somehow, they manage to complement, and not clash with one another. Truly, it defines ingenuity.

This band doesn't do a good follow-up. It does a vastly superior one.

The emo-orientated, pop punk rockers turned alternative, melodic rock-based, mature and experienced set of men (including dashes of screaming and heavy guitar accompaniment) have a lot to give the world of music. My suggestion to you is to give them a chance.

Knife And Farce

Minutes ago, I decided to turn on the television. As any human being would ordinarily do when not compelled to view anything in particular, I began skimming through the channels at a canter, in order to find some remotely decent programming for possibly an hour or two. And do you know what befell my eyes? Yet another report relating to knife crime in the UK (particularly connected to London, as once again, this recent spate of well-publicised stabbings has been centralised around our nation’s capital). But there was something different about this report that sparked my attention instantaneously. Shall I proceed to tell you what this was? Very well.

It seems that the government believes it to be a “good idea” to force the perpetrators of knife crime into visiting their victims in whichever second-rate hospital they’ve been sent to get patched up. Whether I misheard what the journalist said – causing the specifics of the entire notion to be lost in a sea of anger and indignation at the idea in hand – is beyond me, and altogether possible. In fact, if the above is true, I see no reason to justify, in any circumstance, the passing-through of such a law. What would it entail? The soon-to-be convicts choosing to finish the job they set out to do, whilst the victim is helpless to prevent a further attack? I’m sorry, call me sceptical and all that, but I don’t really think giving the persons responsible for the injuries they have already inflicted a second bite at the cherry is going to solve the problem with deaths from knife-related incidents.

One thing is certain, however. I can best describe the government’s proposal to deter these people from carrying out violent attacks in a simple word: lunacy.

Is it so easy to forget that a lot of those liable are proud of their work? Heck, sending them to see victims is an extra chance to take a picture of their handiwork on their stolen camera phones. Or, at the very least, it gives them a plethora of new ideas on how to cut/slash/shank someone the next time they choose to do it. Apparently, according to some, stabbing someone can be seen as a work of art. Their prey is the canvas, their knife is the paintbrush.

The government’s wording is that “people caught carrying knives are to be sent to visit stabbing victims in hospital to show them the potential consequences”. I’m pretty sure any person who’s carrying a knife around with them knows what the consequences are when they use it. They are willingly carrying around weapons; weapons that are dematerialising the fabric that acts a security blanket of our society. Sooner or later, they are going to act with it, and by that point, it doesn’t matter why they’ve used it.

A Glaswegian male was stabbed 11 times at the T in the park music festival, on Sunday morning. Fortunately, he survived, and is now recovering in hospital. Why was this man stabbed? Because he chose to help out his female friend, who had been accosted by two male strangers. Did this man get much press attention? No. He’s still alive. But I digress. Perhaps we should first look at the underlying explanation for why so many people are keeping knives on their person. It can’t all be for “self-defence”.

In all, do you honestly believe the government’s “tough” new regime is going to work wonders?

You Can’t Spell “Fun” Without “Funeral”!

Come on! You know you love a bit of obsession with the morbid, don’t you? Wait, not the over-the-top sort of obsession that results in necrophilia, but the level that occurs just below that. A healthy obsession is what I'd like to call it, even if it is anything but.

Reading through a blog yesterday, which had its link sent to me by a good friend of mine, I came across a man mentioning his inability to keep himself under control at funerals. And “inability to keep himself under control” is a euphemism for “constant laughing”. And this is the absolute truth on his half. Who might this man be; why, none other than Joe the Peacock, who writes all those fantastic life stories seen at Mentally Incontinent (refer to the ‘Recommended Sites’ list on the right hand side of the page for more details).

That got me thinking: I’ve been to a lot of funerals, I’ve remarked a number of times about the comedic value associated so frequently with attendance to the aforementioned, I’ve poked fun at the fact that I’ve been to nearly my age in funerals (off the top of my memory, it’s 14 “funerals” to 17 “years old”, although the technical definition of “going to a funeral” is subject to scrutiny – can you count those to which you’ve only gone to the reception afterwards? You’ve got me!).

I remember this one funeral…it was quite a while ago now – in other words, it was last month, as I must have been to at least 6 this week alone – and my family and I were in church (as you are, you know: waiting around, spotting any relatives you hadn’t seen in several years, then inappropriately yelling and waving at them from one church pew to another). Anyway, during one part of the service, the priest said the words “All rise”…

And I half-expected the coffin to pop open, with the recently deceased sitting bolt-upright!

Now, I know what you’re thinking. If you’re one of those people who is remotely sane. "That’s not right at all; that’s utterly tactless, and there is no place in this world for that sort of thinking", right? I’m not going to lie to you; such a thought is in bad taste. But I think when you’ve been to as many funerals as I have, it’s those little amusements that stop you from losing it entirely, and becoming a clinically depressed mess. I certainly know of people close to me who have ended up on that path, and it is not a pretty sight. Hey, I think I went to one of their funerals; that's how bad it was!

But the thing that gets me most about funerals is the reception afterwards. Sure, everyone is generally obliged to feel sad and shed a tear or two if necessary whilst inside the church, and these emotions are to be amplified whenever the congregation moves along to a nearby cemetery to lay the late to rest. I've no problem with people showing emotion at gatherings like this. Yet the instant we all enter that reception hall, I kid you not; it’s like a massive party. As if it’s a celebration of the person’s death. What’s that all about? I know full well that isn’t the case at all, but I can’t help but think that on some level, these family members and friends are displaying such exuberant behaviour because someone has died.

On the other hand, to combat that, I’ve been told to attend a couple of funerals before simply to obtain food. Yes, that’s right. Somebody has died, gone up to heaven (if you believe in heaven. I think we’ll leave that argument for another day), and people decide to see them off into the afterlife by wolfing down a plate full of chicken, rice and peas. Lovely. To add to that; getting drunk at a funeral? Well, that’s the pinnacle of loneliness right there.

No, I haven’t been drunk at funerals, but others in my extended family certainly have.

Oh, and by the way, congratulations to you if you spotted the deliberate error in the title. You deserve a cookie.

Poetry In Motion: #1- The Indifference Of Time

Time marches on;
It waits for no man
Who chooses to stop,
And sit down in the sand.

For a while.

When thinking rationally, Time does not care
For all your misfortunes and all your despair;
For lives you instinctively try to repair;
For nostalgic memories of those who aren’t there.

For natural disasters in worlds far away;
For calamities of man seen every day;
For great change in government, great change indeed;
For poverty’s children, desperately in need.

No,
Time marches on
From tragedy and chaos;
Roaming the streets,
Just laughing at love lost.

Yet,
Something so true
Is that Time heals our pain.
Forgetting wrongdoers;
Forgetting their names.

Yes,
Time may be brief
In its feelings of grief,
But it moves us along
On the path we must creep...

That is life.

Time gives us lessons we must learn,
And asks for nothing in return.
Time sits back, watching the view;
Watching, watching over you.

Uni-fied

The end of the normal school term is nearly upon us. Many schoolchildren will be taking part in their final lessons of the educational year about this time tomorrow, next week or the week following that. Some of the lucky ones have already departed those dreaded school gates – textbooks not in tow – with the view of spending a care-free summer away with their families and friends.

There are, however, a few whose summers most definitely should not, and therefore for the sake of brutal encouragement, will not be filled with personal enjoyment. I am making particular reference to those students wrapping up their Year 12 studies; the prospect of a final year of exams before higher education, intertwined with summarising their entire life achievements (and relevant interests to the courses they wish to study at university) into one essay of approximately 500 words. And I haven’t even mentioned the mad panic that arises between now, and results day next month; the need to make frequent visits to open days, and partake in campus tours; dealing with the search for work experience and part-time working posts to fund these studies; and, of course, the stress that is bound to affect you when you realise you’re soon going to be out of close proximity with your comfortable groups of friends. And inevitably, there are going to be some people with whom you may be fairly well-acquainted that you know you’ll never see again.

Depending on how mentally tough you are – and how proactive you can force yourself to be – the amount of problems that these thoughts can cause must vary greatly. The stronger (mentally) and more determined a person you are, the less hassle brought about. The weaker and lazier will soon discover that they have an Everest to climb.

Personally, I am more inclined to place myself in the second category of people. I know full well that if I don’t act early, must-do tasks will pile up on me in an instant until eventually I give up completely.

So, I’m swearing an oath to myself. “Work hard, and never forget your goals”. Obviously, it is a lot easier to say something of that sort than it is to put it into practice. The journey will be a long and hard one. But I’m preparing myself for the exciting journey that lies ahead. I’ve been on one campus tour, and to one open day so far, and have many more already booked. I’m quite excited about starting university in 2009, and leaving home for the first time. The issue with losing contact with friends…well, that’s down to me making the effort to meet up and talk occasionally as much as it is up to them. I made mistakes when I left primary school and hope that I don’t make the same ones again.

Mercury On The Bloc

With the release of Klaxons' 2nd album imminent (yet unbeknownst to most; I am merely speculating at a quick, quiet release as it would seem to follow the style of all their recent and relevant information so far - INCREDIBLY low-key), and my iPod unremitting in its playing out of every Red Hot Chili Peppers song I have, to death, the appearance of Bloc Party's first single could not have come at a better time. And on first assumptions, Mercury sounds as if it has a replayability factor just long enough to bridge the gap where I have grown tired of the Chilis, and am completely obsessed with listening to Klaxons' new material as soon as I can.

If this is to be a glimpse into the 3rd world of Bloc Party, then it is but a strange world indeed. Not in a bad sense, no no, not at all; but the "carry on from Flux" attitude portrayed in this song, along with the background mood created by the use of instruments that are neither symbolic nor characteristic of Bloc Party's traditional sound shows fearlessness and growth on the band's part. Everyone knows that by the time of your 3rd album, you will need to be keeping the material fresh and exciting, as opposed to sticking to a winning formula. Thinking like the latter will only get you so far; your most fervent fans would seriously be thinking about jumping ship to a rival band by that stage.

But if you think about, it has been a controlled step into the unknown. Flux was simply a test to see how the market would react to a completely new sound. And on the whole, a positive reception was noticed. Sensibility is something I've come to expect of Bloc Party, and they have not disappointed me so far. I seem to remember that Radiohead's Kid A album lacked even a (and please do excuse the pun) SINGLE single. That's because the inkling was there; that album could have destroyed the career of Thom Yorke with its emphasis on the electronic. In the end, it was hugely successful in America, but was not universally regarded as a work of genius. Low and behold, here they are 8 years later, and following the success of In Rainbows, they are arguably more popular than ever.

To Bloc Party, I say kudos on taking the risk, and ending the doubt that this album will be a lousy spinoff of combined elements from their previous two albums (Silent Alarm and A Weekend In The City). If the rest of the album draws from similar influences, which we hear in Mercury, don't be surprised to see Bloc Party as UK #1 in both the singles and albums chart sometime within the next 12 months. Not that those are titles worth obtaining, of course.

I look forward to listening with glee.

A little bit extra:

You can listen to Mercury both here...
http://www.blocparty.com/
...and here...
http://www.myspace.com/blocparty

The Opening

Hello there! Let me introduce myself; I'm Chris, and that's about all you really need to know for now!

Anyway, with this being the first post, I will explain to you what I hope to achieve with this blog. There is no specific or set topic on which I plan to constantly write up upon. This is, hopefully, a blog which allows you (that's right, YOU) to read about a multitude of things; from the mundane and trivial, to the outrageous and extraordinary. I'm testing out my skills in writing creatively, and this should help me to a great degree.

I'm not sure how often I'll end up posting here. I'm going to have to get myself into gear and commit myself quite seriously if I want anything decent to appear. That would be music to my ears. And honestly, up to this point in this paragraph, I did not intend for it to rhyme like that. Well, except for the last one *nervous giggle*.

Without further ado, I present to you...

THE MINDLESS RAMBLINGS OF A DEMENTED YOUTH

Take care of yourselves, my readers.

Oh, that's right, no-one's there to read this...oh well.