Opening the Floor

I'll be honest, I have nothing to blog about. Nowt. Nil. Nada. The letters into The Shropshire Star have been dull. I've calmed down a bit. No-one else famous has died (yet).

So, here's an idea. I'm going to whore out my blog to you, my loyal readers. If you want me to blog about something, leave a comment here.

You could possibly choose just one word - ie. "cheese", "love", "confabulation".

Maybe a person - "Biggles", "Joe Cole", "Albrecht von Hohenzollern".

Maybe a place - "New York", "Telford", "Addis Ababa".

Pop a comment down, and I'll blog about it. Promise.

In Memoriam

Oh dear, just when I had stopped thinking about death, another one bites the dust.

What can you say about Edward Woodward? The inspiration behind my username. The star of The Equalizer. The lead actor in the 2nd worst film of all time, The Wicker Man. The amusing little turn he did in Hot Fuzz. The roles in The Bill and Eastenders.

No words can reflect my sorrow at this moment, but luckily, help is at hand. E.J.Thribb stayed over last night to watch the NFL, and he has just awoken. I am passing the baton to him, to have the final word on this splendid man:

So. Farewell then Edward Woodward

He who played The Equalizer

I'm now going to drink in your memory

A lovely can of Tizer

E.J.Thribb 14 1/3

Perspective

After whinging on at you all on Monday night, something happened this morning which has given me pause for thought.

I was finishing off my breakfast (Bovril on toast, as usual) when a helicopter flew over my house. This isn't unusual, but this one sounded like it was about to scrape our roof off, and it was scarily low. Instead of heading over to the hospital, as all the others do, it disappeared below some trees, close by.

I thought no more about it, and packed my bag ready to head into university and finish off the worst essay of all time. I live at the top of a great big hill, and when I began to start the descent downhill I stopped for a moment, as right at the bottom of the hill I could see 3 ambulances and 5 police cars. Oh-oh. I ambled down, managed to duck under the police cordon and surveyed the scene. And then promptly wished that I hadn't.

I've just sat here and wondered if I should tell you the details, as it seems a bit heartless doing it on a blog. But I figure that I've told some people already today, and the details are easily accessible on the internet.

A Peugeot and a motorbike had had a fight, and the guy on the bike clearly hadn't won. The Peugeot had a damaged front, whilst the bike was completely written off. Amongst the glass and the blood sprayed all over the road, ambulance crews were giving CPR to a figure who, luckily, was shaded from my view by a thick blanket that was covering him. I stood in shock for a few moments, than a policeman came and politely moved me on. All the roads had been closed off, so I walked through the park, right past the helicopter. So that's where it landed.

On the train coming over to Wolverhampton I couldn't think of anything else, and even though I tried to remain positive for the man, I knew it was unlikely. A few hours later I read on the internet that he was taken to the hospital, where he was pronounced dead.

Part of me wants to add this to the list of reasons why I want 2009 to end right now. But another part of me thinks that if ever there was a moment to consider your own mortality, seeing a person dying in front of you is pretty much it. I am lucky to be alive. Regardless what happens with essays, girls, finances, sport, family and everything else. We are lucky to be alive.

In case you desperately want to know where I live:

http://www.shropshirestar.com/2009/11/12/accident-motorcyclist-dies/

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