Going for Gold

Afternoon all. First off, thanks for the nice comments on my last blog entry. I feel fine at the moment, just Monday evening was a particularly horrible Monday evening to conclude a really horrible day. The weather hasn't improved, although my outlook has slightly.

I say slightly, because something else this morning has made me sad, although this time no-one is blaming me for anything. I thought I'd take a moment out from writing the worst essay ever to share it with you.

Cash for Gold. You've seen the adverts on t'tele, and you've scoffed, and wondered who would be stupid enough to send off their gold. Well, this morning in the post we got a Cash for Gold flyer. I was about to put it straight in the bin, when something on it caught my eye, and just made me feel a bit glum:

The irony of this flyer landing in our porch on November 11th is hopefully not lost on you. I'd rather die than hand over any war medals my forefathers earned in battle to these conmen, and I am slightly ashamed that other people do/would consider doing so.

Is this just me, or do others die a little when they see stuff like this?

Fuck My Life

Oh dear readers, it's been a bad day for Ewar today.

In fact, it's been a bad year, and it's only got worse. It seems lately that everybody is shitting on me, and making me out to be a bad guy. I don't think I am, although now I'm doubting myself.

My bad year started in January, funnily enough. After recovering from the noro virus, I had a clear plan in my mind. I had been going crazy over a girl at my uni for a few months, and so I decided to gamble and ask her out. Amazingly, she said yes, and the date went okay-ish. I wasn't great, was too wracked with nerves to be funny or charming, but I didn't feel it had been a disaster.

Once she had departed on her bus, I walked to the train station to get the train home, and on it I sat down across from a former teacher of mine, and someone I admire and respect. He asked me how I was, and suddenly a real burst of happiness hit me, for the first time in a long, long time. I grinned and told him I was doing great. And I was.

I had left a job that, towards the end, I hated. I was loving uni. I had made some decent friends. I had experienced the holiday of a lifetime with a mate in the US. And I had met the girl I thought was perfect for me, and *gasp* had actually spoken to her. Life was good.

And then it all went a bit wrong, and on February 14th she emailed me to say she wasn't interested. Happy Valentine's Day! I know she'll be reading this. It's not your fault I've had a shit year, and please don't think I'm blaming you in any way. I just need to vent tonight.

University lost it's lustre. Essays and reading became a chore, and I stopped going to lectures, a decision partly caused by a German pillock of a lecturer who clearly wishes the Motherland was still being led by that chap with the moustache.

Twitter became a problem. One night some guy who I had become "online friends" with overreacted to something I said and called me a moron. I was pissed off so I and a friend said offensive things about him, and I let him have both barrells. He blocked me. Probably fair, that one. But now tonight, a friend of his thought I had insulted her, after I had jokingly called her "a weirdo" for writing essays on paper and not typed on a computer. She's now blocked me and told me to "fuck off". Not fair, really, that one.

I don't know if you'll read this Helene, but if you do - I meant that in a jokey way, I wasn't trying to insult you at all. I'm sorry if you were offended.

Also tonight I've also had an argument with my parents. I'll be honest, this happens about once a month anyway, but tonight it just seems more raw and more vicious than before. So, as you've probably guessed, I feel very down tonight, and I feel like telling someone to wake me up when 2010 starts, so I can leave this year behind for good.

I've never felt like I'm a bad person. Most of the time I'm placid and quiet, but I have a streak in me that when the red mist comes down, I find it impossible not to lash out, and can't hold my tongue. The rest of the time, I'm horrified if I ever offend anyone, and never look for trouble.

Like I said at the top, I just feel like everyone is ganging up on me, and it's me fighting the tide on my own all the time.

Probably best if I stop now, although I still don't feel much better after typing all this. Thanks for reading, if you do, anyway. If you don't think I'm a dick, thankyou. If you do, I'm tired of arguing. Maybe you are right.

How Can I Stop Watching This?

Hey, Ewar, why bother reading Milton when you can watch this over and over again? Milton sucks!

Why, thankyou Procrastination, I think I will watch this video once again! You're too kind.

Anyone fill in any gaps in terms of where the clips come from? Currently I have:

Freaks

Ghostbusters

School of Rock

The Simpsons

South Park

The Godfather

Robocop

Sesame Street

Back to the Future

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Silence of the Lambs

Seinfeld

Night at the Museum (?)

2001: A Space Odyssey

Star Wars

The Prisoner

Citizen Kane

Knight Rider

On the Waterfront

Rainbow

Pirates of the Caribbean

Airplane

Top Gun

Family Guy

Moomins

30 Rock (?)

Zoolander

Naked Gun

The Fast Show

Jaws

Anchorman

Cars

WALL-E (?)

Ferris Bueller's Day Off

This is Spinal Tap

Big Lebowski (?)

Adventures in Greendale

I've teased you with this, and despite wanting to give it a few days, I can't resist it any longer. My fingers are literally itching, although that may just be a fungal infection. So, without any more babble, let us look at a letter into Monday's Shropshire Star, penned by the splendid Alwyn Cox from Oswestry. For any new readers (Hannah) - Alwyn's letter will be in a bold font, my responses in this normal font. Let's do this thing.

So now the shopkeepers in Ellesmere are complaining that the arrival of Tesco has damaged their businesses and caused job losses.

This is unfortunate, and is a sign of the times. Whether you like it or not though, it is true.

This is not true.

Oh, okay.

The workers at Tesco do not stand in the high street and kidnap customers and force them to buy Tesco products.

Not true Alwyn! I was once walking past Tesco when an employee rugby tackled me to the ground and demanded that I went in and bought some bananas, a Tweenies DVD and a pack of large condoms. I did what I was told.

The free choice of the public allows them to shop where they want to shop.

I didn't have the heart to tell him I only need small ones.

They obviously choose to shop in Tesco. So it is the public that are damaging the small businesses because they do not want or need them. We live in a world of free markets. The consumer is king, and if they choose to shop in the likes of Tesco and Sainsbury then so be it.

This is not news, Alwyn. Nor is it particularly interesting. I'm going to need you to spice up this letter with something stupid - about anything. Cheese. Paul O'Grady. Post Offices. Whatever!

They have decided that they no longer want to tramp from the greengrocer to the butcher, then onto the grocer and newsagent hauling more and more packages with them as they go from warm to cold to warm moving from one shop to the next.

Get on with it.

They want the convenience of everything in one place, so they go to a supermarket.

I've just suddenly twigged what Alwyn is doing here. Yes, kids, he's read my blog about how to write/bullshit your way through an essay, and now he's practising with this letter! This is precisely what is happening here - there can be no other reason to just type a load of stuff that we all know and is completely unnecessary.

Alwyn, get crazy, and get crazy quick.

Same with the post office.

At last!

Who cares if they are closing? I don't.

Might just be the most egotistical sentence I have ever read, ever. And considering I sometimes read back my old blog entries, that takes some doing Alwyn.

I buy my car tax online. I do not need postal orders - you know, those funny things the post office sells that cost more than the object that they are used to pay for.

It gets worse kids.

If I need other currency I get it from a hole in the wall in the country that I am visiting, it is cheaper and I get it as I need it.

Enjoy being mugged.

I do not write letters on bits of paper, then shove them into other bits of paper, and then stick other bits of paper, that I would have to purchase, on to them only to have to tramp to a red box on the street corner, shove all these bits of paper into this box and hope that a man in uniform will come and collect my bits of paper and deliver them to the address that I have written on the front.

There is so much shit there I wouldn't know where to start. And I'm at university, pretending to be studying John Milton. Currently, I'm not sure who I hate more - Alwyn or Milton. It's a toughie. I particularly enjoy Alwyn taking 5 lines to describe writing a letter and posting it. He really has been reading my essay guide, clearly.

I'm just going to move on, because re-reading that just makes me even more annoyed. Also, I don't want Sue to take too long imagining a man in uniform. Have a sit down Sue!

He will not come, of course, because he has decided not to work as a way of protesting against progress, just like those whingers complaining about Tesco.

I'm tired of this nonsense. I'll leave that sentence for Vole to foam at the mouth about.

I send e-mails like this letter to the Star. I pay all my bills by direct debit or online banking. I buy all my clothes in online shops.

My grandmother is a 70 year old woman who lives on her own, and wouldn't know the internet if www.dutchgirlswithbigboobies.orgy slapped her round the face. For her, her local post office is crucial. And I'm 22, so I'm not one to hark back to "the good old days" but I'd be gutted if all post offices closed down. For many elderly people, they are important, and give them just a little feeling of community, as they go and socialise to the same people every week as they collect their pension. Not everyone has the internet.

If my shopping habits cause the demise of small over-expensive shops, then so be it. Turn them all into bistros, restaurants, pubs and housing.

Alwyn Cox's priorities in life, in order - Food. More food. Drink. Somewhere to live.

Turn the high streets into pedestrian zones with tables and chairs,

Could you not just move to Paris, please?

trees, and roundabouts for the kids to play on. Move with the times and enjoy life, stop harking on about how things used to be and look to how they will be.

I'm starting to get tired of this, and I do really need to do some actual work. I think the main problem here is that I'm not 100% sure who you are attacking, considering you've taken a scatter gun to a few different people and things.

That is what Tesco did. When I did a Saturday job in Tesco as a schoolboy over 40 years ago it was a little corner shop with all its goods still in boxes stacked on the floor. Look at it now. I would say it is doing something right, probably giving the public what it wants.

End of letter. I am dazed and confused.

I know this has been a really long entry, so if you couldn't be bothered to read all of that, I'm now going to provide you with a summary of Alwyn's letter:

I don't

I buy

I do not need

If I need

I get it from

I am visiting

I get it as I need it

I do not write letters

I would have to

I have written

I send e-mails

I pay all my bills

I buy all my clothes

If my shopping habits

I did a Saturday job

I would say

Me me me me me me me me FUCKING ME

Protocol

First of all, thanks for all the nice feedback about my last entry, the essay one. Many of you found it amusing, and thought I was joking. You've never read any of my essays, clearly.

Coming up on my blog over the next week or so will be an awesome video that I can't stop watching, and my analysis of possibly the most offensive, arrogant and ridiculous letter into The Shropshire Star I have ever read. Don't miss that one.

But now folks, it's time for some admin. Long-term readers, all two of you, will know that here at TRAROFTL, I adhere to one very simple rule. That if someone follows my blog, I'll link to their blog and give them a shout-out and a bit of free publicity here. Always have done that, always will.

I've thought for a little while about what to say here. In that time I've cleaned my nails, drank a whole bottle of Buxton water, listened to Alanis (I heart her, tbf. And her rendition of the US National Anthem last night at the baseball was awesome) and ate a bowl of cheese savouries.

And I still don't know what to say. So, just go and follow hltoffy over at:

http://hltoffy.blogspot.com/

Even though most of you reading this already do. I'd like to conclude this blog entry with a video for you. It's my favourite Tindersticks record:

How to Write an Essay

Alright, alright, settle down! Get that gum out of your mouth Sue, the bin is at the front.

Hello folks. For my sins, I've not been able to get to many lectures this academic year, so I thought I'd take the interesting step of taking a lecture myself. As the title shows, I am going to tell you how to write an essay, in the Ewar-style. Are you ready?

Ben and Aidan, stop whispering. If you have something to share, please share it with the class.

Okay, here we go. First of all, you've been slapped with a 2,000 word count. "Impossible!" you cry. "How am I going to write 2,000 words on a book that I don't like/half-read/don't care about Ewar?!"

Thanks for asking! Well A) I did it for "Wise Children", so it can be done, and B) Fuck the 2,000 words thing. Seriously. I'll explain how in due course.

Firstly, create a "header" and put your name and student number. It looks like you actually know what you're doing. You don't, of course, but perception is important.

Next, you're going to copy and paste the essay question you have chosen. You pretend this is so the marker knows easily what question it is you are doing. But of course that's bollocks - it's actually because we'll sneakily add it to the word count at the end. So the question is 83 words, word count is now down to 1,917 words. Lovely.

Daniel, if you don't remove those earphones and that iPod, I'll remove them myself and put them up somewhere you wouldn't like.

We now come to an introduction. You pretend the intro is there to make it clear what you'll be doing later on in the essay. Nah. It's actually just a paragraph of repeating the question in a slightly different way and not actually saying anything. Don't make it more than one paragraph - that will arouse suspicion. You need to keep the marker on your side for as long as you can.

Next. If you have a question that has technical terms in it - define them! Even if everyone knows what they are, define them, and ramble about them for a bit. Again, don't go overboard, but make sure you waste a good few words. That word count is ticking down, and you haven't said anything yet!

Mitchell, I believe that girl has a boyfriend. Please refrain from chatting her up in my time, thankyou.

Now we come to the tricky bit - actually writing about the book. There is no way we can get out of this, sadly. But what we can do is this. Have a maximum of 5 points. Tackle them one by one, and ramble. Not read the book? That's okay. Flick through it, you can find relevant quotes. If you can't, find any quote, and twist it as much as you can to make it relevant. Remember, we're adding those lovely quotes to our word count! Make sure you include academic words, and if desperate, put a quote and then basically just explain what it means, even though it's obvious what it means. Even more desperate? Phone a friend.

We're now going to have a 10 minute break, so if you do need to urinate/eat/masturbate/smoke/drink, now is the time. In appropriate places, obviously, not at your desk. Mitchell, you dirty git.

Welcome back class! Not long left now, don't worry.

So, you've battled your way through the main part of the essay. Congratulations - you've broken the back of it, and you're near the end. One final push okay? And our final push is known as the Conclusion!

For a conclusion, take two paragraphs, and point out what you already mentioned in the introduction, and then re-hash the best points you made. Don't worry about over-egging the pudding, by this time you've lost the marker. He either A) hates you or B) wishes for you to shut up or C) both!

Hoorah! You've almost finished. But, time to do some quick maths. Most lecturers allow you to be either 10% over/under the word limit. 10% of 2,000 is, by my reckoning, 200 words. Take that away from your 1,917, and that makes it 1,717 words. Splendid.

Still under? Go through the text - alter sentences so that you take 3 words instead of 1. Add unnecessary stuff. Maybe drop in another quote to "back up your argument" (add more words). Flesh out your introduction and conclusion. If all else fails - lie. Hell, they don't check.

That's it folks! I want you to all clear off, apart from you. Yes, you, the blonde with the low-cut top. I need you to come back to my office, so I can give you one. *pause* An essay question that is!

Folks, if you've enjoyed this lecture, I've been Ewarwoowar. If you haven't, I've been The Plashing Vole!

EDIT - I've just read that last bit again. That last sentence was a joke I've nicked off a lecturer, and is absolutely no way meaning that Voley would give a lecture like that, or indeed be inappropriate with a student. Don't take it the wrong way please folks!

Step Up to the Plate

That title reminds me that the World Series starts tonight, so much excitement abounds in the Woowar mind. It promises to be the most exciting World Series since I've started watching baseball, and so over the next few days I'll be getting about 3 hours sleep each night and binging on crisps, chocolate and cola.

HOWEVER, this isn't a baseball post, luckily for you. No, the title is a reflection on a comment O Cynical One left me a while back now. After looking at another barmy letter into my local newspaper, he suggested I "go national" and get a hold of The Metro paper. So yesterday, I did - I stole one off a train. I am a disgrace.

I'll be honest, the letters page is a bit disappointing, and in yesterday's edition there's only one letter that's a bit crazy, and it's not very long either. However, we can use it. It's time for Ewarwoowar to go national - step forward Steve from Edinburgh!

The mainstream political parties must love Nick Griffin MEP.

Steven, Steven, Steven. Steven McHaggis. Listen to you. You really think the mainstream political parties like this guy, and what he stands for? Seriously?

Let me assure you, they don't. I can only think that you've said that just because you're about to link it in with something entirely unrelated, say, expenses.

Let's face it, he has single-handedly managed to take the heat off them and the expenses scandal.

I amaze myself sometimes.

Anyone remember that?

Well, yes.

Call him what you will...

Really? Thanks! I think he's an appalling fucking cunt.

...but is he really any worse than those so-called honourable members ripping us off at every turn and continually treating us with contempt?

Yes he is. Can't believe I even have to say it.

Look, I hate to bang on about Jo Swinson, but as she talks to me on Twitter and I quite fancy her, I will. She "tweeted" the other day (how modern!) telling her followers that her 'Legg letter' had arrived, and she was one of the MPs who committed no wrongdoing - in her words, she had got "the all clear". We all know some MPs have been naughty, but it annoys me when people tar them with the same brush. There are lots of MPs who go into the job because they feel they can make a difference. Now, they are stupid thinking that, but their intentions are honest, and they are good, honest, hard-working people. The expenses thing happened - but it's time to cast a line under it and move on.

That's pretty much it for the letters page kids. However, I then thought I would flick through the rest of The Metro, and suddenly I got excited. Because this paper is an absolute goldmine for nonsense. I could barely contain my glee reading it.

I don't have enough space here to analyse all the shit I read, so I'm going to pick just one article I particularly enjoyed. See what you think. Please step forward, Tom Phillips!

And so we enter the inevitable, soul-destroying countdown to Christmas.

I was thinking about the bad moments of my past year. Here's the list so far:

1) Psychological problems.

2) The girl I'm crazy about not being interested in me.

3) Getting the Noro Virus.

4) Gerrard, Torres and company.

5) Failing a Uni module.

103,567) The countdown to Christmas.

Hardly soul-destroying.

It's at this special time when the entire world turns out to remind you that you're rubbish at buying presents for the ones you love - and thus barely qualify as a human being.

Never happened to me, to be honest. Maybe you are just rubbish.

But if you'd like to stave off another Christmas Eve at the petrol station forecourt wondering if Uncle Brian would like a discount CD featuring pan pipe covers of Bee Gee tunes,

He wouldn't. If you are that desperate, he would prefer a Ginsters pastie, I reckon.

you really should have a look at the rather excellent School of Everything.

Tell me about it please!

It's a website that helps match up people who have a skill they can teach with people who want to learn -

Splendid information, thanks.

sort of like a dating website, but for knowledge instead of sex.

But it will end up with sex, let's be honest.

And they've recently introduced a new gift feature that allows you to buy lessons for someone else. Lessons being offered range from improving your memory,

That will end in intercourse.

to bread-making

That will end in intercourse.

to learning how to tango

Particularly that.

to improving your memory.

You've already sai...oh. Tres drole.

And many first lessons are half-price.

And end in sex.

There's even a lesson in how to use Twitter

It's not that difficult.

which is almost certainly exactly what Great Aunt Hilda has been hoping you'll get her.

No it's not. Tom, I can't help thinking that you are actually a bit rubbish when it comes to presents - you don't seem to know your relatives very well anyway. Get Uncle Brian a pastie, get Great Aunt Hilda a warm blanket and some flowers and be done with it.

Note to myself - get hold of a copy of The Metro every day. That shit is awesome.