To avoid the horrendous prospect of yet more depressing musings on revision and exams, I have decided to begin an occasional column chronicling the life and times of the Rt. Hon. Mr George Galloway, MP. In other words, every time that Our George says or does something stupid (and I have a funny feeling that this might not be the rarest of occurrences), I shall report it in gleeful detail.
His recent gem occurred when he was asked whether a suicide bomber would be justified in blowing up Tony Blair. I don't know whether such a bizarre question was a genius attempt to catch Galloway out, or just plain idiocy. (But given that it was asked by Piers Morgan, I'm going to assume the latter.) George responded:
"Yes, it would be morally justified."
Oh dear. Even George realised he'd gone too far this time, hastily backpedalling in the press, claiming that what he meant was that he could see, in a calm, objective, disapproving way, how a suicide bomber could construct a moral argument. Now that clearly isn't even close to what he said, but it's what he says he said, so that must be okay.
What's really disappointing is that in starting this new hobby now, I've missed the opportunity to comment on Galloway's disgraceful election behaviour, his antics on Big Brother, and the hilarity of his arrest in Egypt. But I'm sure that more will follow soon...
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Friday, May 26, 2006
Revision
...is the Destroyer of Souls.
Happily, though, the largest part of it is over. My exams begin soon - on the 31st May - and end on the 13th June. Two weeks of sheer terror, followed by blissful nothingness. Nothingness in the relaxation sense, not in the death sense. Hopefully.
In our desperation, we have had to find various ways of allieviating the tedium. Yesterday was the turn of the Paper Aeroplanes Flying Championship of the World. It was a beautiful sight, five planes of different designs all gracefully flying through the air in formation(ish) before nose-diving into the ground. Brought a sentimental tear to my eye.
And now I must return to the pit whence I came. The library awaits, eager to draw me into its cavernous maw, there to devour me, slowly, for the rest of time. Or until June 13th, whichever is sooner.
Happily, though, the largest part of it is over. My exams begin soon - on the 31st May - and end on the 13th June. Two weeks of sheer terror, followed by blissful nothingness. Nothingness in the relaxation sense, not in the death sense. Hopefully.
In our desperation, we have had to find various ways of allieviating the tedium. Yesterday was the turn of the Paper Aeroplanes Flying Championship of the World. It was a beautiful sight, five planes of different designs all gracefully flying through the air in formation(ish) before nose-diving into the ground. Brought a sentimental tear to my eye.
And now I must return to the pit whence I came. The library awaits, eager to draw me into its cavernous maw, there to devour me, slowly, for the rest of time. Or until June 13th, whichever is sooner.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Ducks and Cold Water
But, bizarrely, not together.
I always thought that ducks tended to stay by such bodies of water as rivers and lakes. After all, (and I'm moving into entirely guesswork territory here) they mostly survive on little water-based swimming things, and bread thrown by small children and tourists.
All of this would no doubt be news to the ducks in Cambridge. Not for them the quiet, placid life of swimming along a river. These ducks want some action. They want to paint the town red and hang around on street corners. Which is why, every time it rains, they all start wandering through the town centre. My college is about ten minutes (at human speed) away from the river, yet a couple of days ago there were a couple of ducks apparently trying to get into the library where I was working. They can't have meant any harm, for they were not wearing hoodies (the Gospel According to Bluewater, Chap 3, Verse 17), but were a strange sight nonetheless.
In Other News:
In what perhaps can best be described as a fit of genius, the nice college maintenance people have been round to turn off our hot water. They're supposed to be turning off the heating for the summer, but clearly don't have a clue what they're doing. Showering this morning was a disconcertingly bracing experience.
I always thought that ducks tended to stay by such bodies of water as rivers and lakes. After all, (and I'm moving into entirely guesswork territory here) they mostly survive on little water-based swimming things, and bread thrown by small children and tourists.
All of this would no doubt be news to the ducks in Cambridge. Not for them the quiet, placid life of swimming along a river. These ducks want some action. They want to paint the town red and hang around on street corners. Which is why, every time it rains, they all start wandering through the town centre. My college is about ten minutes (at human speed) away from the river, yet a couple of days ago there were a couple of ducks apparently trying to get into the library where I was working. They can't have meant any harm, for they were not wearing hoodies (the Gospel According to Bluewater, Chap 3, Verse 17), but were a strange sight nonetheless.
In Other News:
In what perhaps can best be described as a fit of genius, the nice college maintenance people have been round to turn off our hot water. They're supposed to be turning off the heating for the summer, but clearly don't have a clue what they're doing. Showering this morning was a disconcertingly bracing experience.
Friday, May 05, 2006
Pointless Creatures
Is there any point in the existence of wasps?
They seem to exist purely so that they can fly in through open windows, sting everything in sight, and then knock themselves senseless trying to get out again. Hardly the most glorious of ecological niches.
Bees are different - bees have a purpose. They pollinate things, and, as I am given to understand, procreate with birds. Plus they don't maliciously sting people just for amusement, because they end up leaving half of their internal organs embedded in your skin, which apparently hurts them more than it hurts you.
When the sun goes down and all the wasps fly back, contented in their evil deeds of the day, to whatever diabolic pit they came from, a new pointless creature emerges. Those tiny, tiny little flying things that are attracted to electric lights.
Evolution has clearly gone completely tits-up here - what kind of nocturnal creature is attracted to light? I have no idea what these things eat, but I'm willing to bet that its prey doesn't look like a flourescent light. You would have thought that natural selection would have operated to make extinct a creature that spends all its time flying into electric lights, but it doesn't seem to have happened yet. Darwin, shmarwin.
They seem to exist purely so that they can fly in through open windows, sting everything in sight, and then knock themselves senseless trying to get out again. Hardly the most glorious of ecological niches.
Bees are different - bees have a purpose. They pollinate things, and, as I am given to understand, procreate with birds. Plus they don't maliciously sting people just for amusement, because they end up leaving half of their internal organs embedded in your skin, which apparently hurts them more than it hurts you.
When the sun goes down and all the wasps fly back, contented in their evil deeds of the day, to whatever diabolic pit they came from, a new pointless creature emerges. Those tiny, tiny little flying things that are attracted to electric lights.
Evolution has clearly gone completely tits-up here - what kind of nocturnal creature is attracted to light? I have no idea what these things eat, but I'm willing to bet that its prey doesn't look like a flourescent light. You would have thought that natural selection would have operated to make extinct a creature that spends all its time flying into electric lights, but it doesn't seem to have happened yet. Darwin, shmarwin.
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