tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35206356701628250872024-03-13T20:58:39.025+00:00Christina MartinJust some womanchristinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-86916316931993414822016-12-05T13:57:00.002+00:002016-12-05T14:19:19.916+00:00His & HersDuring one of my many charity shop treasure trawls recently, I found a most coveted item. A game by Paul Lamond. Purveyor of such awfulness as Jason Donovan, Straight from the Heart, <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/the-jason-donovan-board-game.html">which I have played so you don't have to</a>, and Lenny Henry's Stand-Up Comic Game, which I possess but have yet to play. (Stay tuned, I will get the strength up eventually)
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The game is His & Hers: The Battle of the Sexes
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I could probably leave it at a picture of the box tbh
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The aim is to find out which sex is bestest. This is achieved by asking a series of questions to players according to their gender. Pink side of the question card for the ladies, blue side for the men. Obvs. Your response is awarded a certain amount of points. Once totted up these points can scientifically tell us which gender wins life.
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Let's see how we do:
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Ladies first. And we have a dinner party quandary for you. Think hard, it's a tough one
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Now a sexuality question for the men (the right answer is signposted quite heavily lads)
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And now a poser for the gals that, if asked in court, would elicit the cry "leading the witness your honour!"
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Who do you think is winning so far? Feels like nobody
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Next up. A question on the arts
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Now that we have put ballet dancers to rights, let's tackle ethics. Careful how you go now
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It's all fun and games until someone admits to historic sexual offences!
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Some final questions on the workplace and we can tot up the scores:
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What decade was this? I hear you cry. Well, the questions sound like they're from the 70s, the box looks like it's from the 80s, but alas, this was 1991. Yes, it's easy to forget in these 'every other letter to The Metro bemoans the cruel hegemony of the PC Brigade' times that we haven't been PC for long, and being PC (or respectful - technical term) is actually not that bad.
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And now for a bonus historical yet newly topical question, for these Brexit days. A question about our entry into the EU, or Brentry if you will:
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UK = Mostly C
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So now that our brief foray into the broader horizons of Europe is over, we can go back to being the narrow minded dicks we were in 1991. And indeed already have in some quarters.
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I can't leave the game on that note, it would be no fun. So one final bonus question for you. And it's one you can now answer retrospectively. Unfortunately no points can be awarded, cos you cheated by travelling forward in time 25 years:
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And that's GAME OVER. Next time, Lenny Henry. Unless you pay the ransom.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-81222022033768742462015-08-31T15:46:00.001+01:002015-08-31T15:46:33.726+01:00The Jason Donovan Board GameIt's Bank Holiday Monday and it's raining. So that's tomorrow's small talk at the work tea point taken care of. Whew.
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It's also a great pretext to stay in and finally play the Jason Donovan board game, 'Straight From The Heart', a mere year after finding it in a charity shop for £1.
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Here are the Jason Donovan rules; live by them, die by them:
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There are four question categories: Love; Favourite Things; Dates; and Music
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Some of the questions are about Jason and some of the questions are 'truth or dare' style posers for 7+ girls.
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Here are some of the choicest questions that came up:
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DATES: Name the date you think you'll get married - Not fair. Impossible to be proven incorrect. I got a puzzle piece for saying "Twelfth of never" though
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LOVE: What do you love most about Jason? - Bit awkward this one. But again, easy to win a puzzle piece. Nobody can disprove a thing.
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LOVE: Describe exactly what you would say if Jason phoned you now - Easy "How did you get this number?"
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FAVOURITE THINGS: What are Jason's favourite foods? - Healthy foods. Nice and vague that. And smug.
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FAVOURITE THINGS: What is Jason's favourite painting? - One he did. One he did? Fair enough, I did actually sarcastically guess that based on other self aggrandising answers to questions about himself but still, that's not something anyone could 'know'
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DATES: What year will you be 18? - 1998. Does a retrospective answer count?
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LOVE: Describe where you would take Jason on your first date - Pass. Keep your puzzle piece, some games are not worth winning.
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LOVE: Name one of your friends' boyfriends you like - Looking to stir up a bit of trouble between the players there Jason?
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FAVOURITE THINGS: Does Jason believe in nuclear disarmament? - Yes. A man of peace. A great man.
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FAVOURITE THINGS: What is Jason's favourite house? - His house. It's the painting question all over again.
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DATES: Give a date when you think your best friend's boyfriend will leave her - What larks!
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MUSIC: Sing the first line of 'Especially For You' - Especially for you. Toughie.
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LOVE: Pretend you're putting on make up - (a) Love? (b) Not even a question
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MUSIC: Does Jason like Michael Jackson's music? - Yes. No would have been a little bitchy so an easy correct guess.
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LOVE: Does Jason like dinner by candlelight? - Yes. Arrived at by using the classic 'what is the obvious correct sounding answer?' system of guessing.
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LOVE: What does Jason think is most important? - Love. Bit easy, given the category.
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FAVOURITE THINGS: What is Jason's favourite restaurant? - Any good Italian restaurant. Could you be any vaguer Jason?
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LOVE: Describe what you would say if your friend dated Jason - Well, most of my friends are now married so I would ask if their husbands knew, what had precipitated all of this, and in some cases remind them that they have kids to consider.
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FAVOURITE THINGS: What is Jason's favourite best friend at tea? - James Maguire. Obviously. Anyone who got that should not just win the game, but be made King of the World.
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You have to keep playing until you collect enough puzzle pieces to make a picture of Jason. Which, given the overly specific nature of the questions, can never happen.
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Play until you die. Or until you can pass the curse on to someone else a la The Ring, through the charity shop rather than the TV.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-82810671448677071092015-05-27T13:27:00.000+01:002015-05-27T15:10:56.938+01:00Ghost Hunt!Hey look, it’s another sporadic blog entry!
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Sorry, no discipline. It’s just so much easier to post a 140 character Tweet. Maybe that thing about the internet destroying attention spans wasn't a myth...oh look, a poodle...sorry what was I doing here?
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Oh yes, one of my infrequent blogs. I suppose it keeps it special though, eh? Like spotting a yeti or a ghost.
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And speaking of...
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A couple of weeks ago, I went to <a href="http://www.30eastdrive.com/">30 East Drive</a>. A property billed as being home to Europe's most violent poltergeist.
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As you can tell, I'm still alive. That's one spoiler alert that I can't help, sorry.
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I answered <a href="http://www.chortle.co.uk/news/2015/05/13/22480/we_aint_afraid_of_no_ghost! ">an invitation from a friend who I met when I was doing comedy</a>. He goes on lots of ghost hunts and has all of the equipment; emf meters, temperature gauges, night vision cameras.
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I figured at the very least it would make for a more interesting than usual response to the dreaded “What did you do at the weekend?” question you get at the work tea point every Monday morning. A refreshing change to: “Not much, you?” - “No, not much”
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Providing I survived. Which we have already established I did. More spoilers!
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As we turned off the motorway on to the a-road leading to Pontefract we were greeted by a huge sign in a field which said ‘Prepare to Meet Your God’. A fantastic omen.
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I should probably stop here for a moment and just state my position.
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I was going along as an open minded sceptic. I like to think I am logical, rational and all those synoyms – see my <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.co.uk/2010/06/i-saw-ghost.html ">previous blog entry on ghosts</a> and how we frame everything backwards according to experience and preconception – however when I was little a few things happened which are hard to explain.
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My dad was pushing me on a swing in our back garden. My mum was in hospital having just had my brother. I started waving and saying goodbye to, apparently nobody. Dad asked who I was waving to. I named the person and said they were saying goodbye and going away. When we got to the hospital we bumped into my nan who said that her neighbour, of that name, had just died.
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I don't remember this as I was too young, so I can't conclude anything. The only explanation I have is that I may have overheard the grown-ups talking about her. Maybe they were mentioning she was ill or something and my imagination went with it. I didn't know her and hadn't interacted with her. My nan lived on the Old Kent Road and I lived in West Wickham. At that age, I only went there for a couple of hours at Christmas.
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The house in West Wickham was weird too. My mum didn't like to be there on her own. When she put the TV on heavy footsteps started going up and down the stairs. Then when she muted it, they abruptly stopped. I used to claim there was an old man in the house, coming up the stairs. I used to run to bed and clean my teeth under the duvet. Again, I can’t conclude anything. I was too young to remember seeing him. I have no memory of any of it. But I have been told all of the stories. Here’s one which is really rather creepy.
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Mum says I had a toy bunny, like the ones in the Duracell adverts, which I used to play with to excess. It was taken off me one day to give my parents some peace. The batteries were taken out and the bunny was placed on the top of a wardrobe out of my reach.
In the middle of the night what do my parents hear? The bunny. Batteries back in, marching around my bedroom floor whilst I watched on from my crib. If I'd have been on the ball I would have said “They're heeeeere” in a squeaky voice. Ah, l'esprit d'escalier.
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I can't think of an explanation for that one. But the absence of an explanation still doesn't mean ghosts. So yeah, open minded sceptic. More things in heaven and earth, only know I know nothing etc etc.
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Whatever, back to the ghost hunt!
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30 East Drive is an ordinary looking, fairly modern council property. A strange place for a black monk to haunt you might think. He should be in an abbey or a castle. But apparently there was a gallows on the site of the house and he was hanged for a crime he didn't commit, hence the restless spirit roaming the earth story. There is also supposed to be a little girl in there, and according to the neighbour, an evil elemental in the bathroom. Quite off-putting when you're on the loo I expect.
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First impressions on entering were: it's freezing, it smells funny, the atmosphere is tangibly 'orrible. The former two were down to the property being uninhabited, the latter because of the story behind the house. It was odd though, being that struck by the unpleasantness of a place, despite the rational explanation.
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(The décor didn't help. The guy who bought the house – the producer of the movie about it, which we watched in the house that night, woooooo! – has done his best to recreate the look of the place at the time of the poltergeist activity. Old furniture, old carpet, bare beds, creepy china dolls. He has bloody well succeeded)
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The cold was weird though it has to be said. I've been in a house that hasn't had the heating on for a long while. This was a different cold. Extra cold. It clung to you. Literally. There was a point in the night where I thought someone was squeezing my legs (actually there was a point where someone really did this – hid under a bed and grabbed my ankles in the dark – I didn't flinch and am therefore, in the words of Alan Partridge, braver than ten firemen and a dozen policemen) The time I am talking about though, I was standing alone in the main bedroom. It felt like something tightening around my legs. I stood there for ages, trying to be objective about this weird feeling. Then I looked down and it turned out the cold and damp had caused my jeans to cling to my legs really tightly. I see now why people on Most Haunted keep insisting that someone is touching their leg (apart from the need to fabricate activity for their TV show that is) There were also sudden drops in temperature in certain isolated spots now and then.
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“But were there any weird occurrences?” I don’t hear you say because how could I? Well, one or two.
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When we were setting up for the baseline tests my friend found that all of his fully charged batteries had drained to zero power. Apparently this is something commonly reported at 30 East Drive. He put them in the wall charger and we went off to do some of the tests as a group. When we all came back, the wall charger had been switched off. Nobody admitted to doing it. We were all upstairs and the front door was locked. That was interesting. Not beyond explanation but interesting.
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During the early hours light orbs were seen on film and on still camera – some say this is supposed to be ghosts trying to manifest, some say it's reflection and dust. So debatable and explainable. There was however an unexplained light which flashed brightly when we were asking for activity. We were in the sitting room and it flashed past the glass door connecting to the kitchen. It was like a car headlight but much more focused and very bright. Our resident die hard sceptic was in the kitchen at the time and my mate said that it had pained the guy to report that there were no cars going past when it happened. That too was interesting and we can't find an explanation for the source of the light. All of the lights and torches were off and the biggest sceptic among us was in the room where the light came from.
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The best bit of the night was when we all went off to sit in different parts of the house in the dark. My friend went into the coal shed, where the dad who lived there at the time of the poltergeist activity got locked in by unseen hands, apparently. A friend of his who was standing outside in the kitchen asked “Where are you in the house? Are you in the coal shed?” At which point the motion sensor outside the coal shed went off. My friend leaped out of there and ran at his mate, who kicked the kitchen door shut behind them. My friend decided to put that down to setting up the motion sensor carelessly and it falling over by itself. Amazing timing though eh? Only time in the night it went off.
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In the absence of actually seeing a ghost, shaking its hand and having a chat, I remain an open minded sceptic. It was a fun night though and I would recommend a ghost hunt whatever your perspective on the matter.
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Here are some photos
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The group at the start of the night
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Sign on the kitchen door
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Creepy decor
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Using the emf meter in the coal shed
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Stairs where the black monk is supposed to walk
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Watching the film about the house, in the house
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jF7xZHfFrWA/VWXQZ7MPn4I/AAAAAAAACzw/FRGTm0njuqA/s1600/Film.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jF7xZHfFrWA/VWXQZ7MPn4I/AAAAAAAACzw/FRGTm0njuqA/s320/Film.jpg" /></a></div>
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Waiting for something to happen in the dark
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-57rzw-PfSDI/VWW34DWBwZI/AAAAAAAACzQ/Lizom7Qq5nM/s1600/Waiting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-57rzw-PfSDI/VWW34DWBwZI/AAAAAAAACzQ/Lizom7Qq5nM/s320/Waiting.jpg" /></a></div>
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Lights out selfie
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h-j1XA4dfCA/VWW4C66WgAI/AAAAAAAACzY/zQzdpzQGR2E/s1600/LightsOut.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-h-j1XA4dfCA/VWW4C66WgAI/AAAAAAAACzY/zQzdpzQGR2E/s320/LightsOut.jpg" /></a></div>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-524124223680925742015-01-26T11:45:00.001+00:002015-01-26T11:46:41.328+00:00Now *that's* magicHi. Sorry for never blogging. It's a combination of being way too busy and not interesting enough.
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Anyway, before I disappear back into silence, I wanted to show you something.
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<a href="https://twitter.com/JuanitaBostock">My friend Jane</a> got me the birthday present to end all birthday presents: A personalised message from Paul Daniels and Debbie McGee.
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Drink it in:
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/9B7mEf_qF7g" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-87953862538379103952014-07-15T12:59:00.001+01:002014-07-15T12:59:28.503+01:00The Wit & Wisdom of Paul DanielsIf you were to say to me “so, read any good books lately?” the answer would be a definite “no”
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But who wants to read a good book when you have Under No Illusion, the life story of magician Paul Daniels, at your disposal?
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It is better than good. It is bad. So bad it is bad and therefore good. But mostly bad. Very bad.
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I would like to share with you some of the highlights. Brace yourselves.
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We start with his dramatic entrance:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_GLiRVn9-xo/U8UTmvr-8SI/AAAAAAAAChE/PHU0inbRE1s/s1600/1+Birth.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_GLiRVn9-xo/U8UTmvr-8SI/AAAAAAAAChE/PHU0inbRE1s/s400/1+Birth.jpg" /></a>
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We experience the cold, budgie-killing reality of war:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xR9S2GUMU8/U8UTs-mHEFI/AAAAAAAAChM/hhLWm4WVH8E/s1600/2+Budgie.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6xR9S2GUMU8/U8UTs-mHEFI/AAAAAAAAChM/hhLWm4WVH8E/s400/2+Budgie.jpg" /></a>
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Something that really gets up his nose by the way, bloody war:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVAUDIJLJ14/U8UTv__Qi9I/AAAAAAAAChU/u-bLM7SHbHg/s1600/3+war.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vVAUDIJLJ14/U8UTv__Qi9I/AAAAAAAAChU/u-bLM7SHbHg/s400/3+war.jpg" /></a>
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The Holocaust didn’t bother him that much though, until he saw a film:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8WpUfIaVOCc/U8UT9ffHeKI/AAAAAAAAChc/M_L5Owo_rPA/s1600/4+cinema.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8WpUfIaVOCc/U8UT9ffHeKI/AAAAAAAAChc/M_L5Owo_rPA/s400/4+cinema.jpg" /></a>
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He finds fat ladies far more traumatic:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2UdNzaeKTDM/U8UUEesbfHI/AAAAAAAAChk/U9ICHN-hrMY/s1600/5+Fat+Ladies.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2UdNzaeKTDM/U8UUEesbfHI/AAAAAAAAChk/U9ICHN-hrMY/s400/5+Fat+Ladies.jpg" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udPPvtr6w_Q/U8UUHW6oQPI/AAAAAAAAChs/rfV8G72Nwl0/s1600/6+fat+ex.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-udPPvtr6w_Q/U8UUHW6oQPI/AAAAAAAAChs/rfV8G72Nwl0/s400/6+fat+ex.jpg" /></a>
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Not as traumatic as he finds homosexuals though:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fFyTg54qeVQ/U8UUPo_oDRI/AAAAAAAACh0/mvekA7cGGmk/s1600/7+gay.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fFyTg54qeVQ/U8UUPo_oDRI/AAAAAAAACh0/mvekA7cGGmk/s400/7+gay.jpg" /></a>
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Thankfully nobody has ever thought he was gay, no sir:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcTtx6-AqmQ/U8UUoa6ZkdI/AAAAAAAACiE/nChMS1J19LU/s1600/8+hands.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XcTtx6-AqmQ/U8UUoa6ZkdI/AAAAAAAACiE/nChMS1J19LU/s400/8+hands.jpg" /></a>
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He has urges:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hlCl0yioqek/U8UUrhEa8QI/AAAAAAAACiM/TU510fPlGr8/s1600/10+urges.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hlCl0yioqek/U8UUrhEa8QI/AAAAAAAACiM/TU510fPlGr8/s400/10+urges.jpg" /></a>
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And casual sex (a whole chapter thereof):
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MxqXiBfWI7g/U8UUulA1OMI/AAAAAAAACiU/JwvdT3X8Mm8/s1600/11+Casual.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MxqXiBfWI7g/U8UUulA1OMI/AAAAAAAACiU/JwvdT3X8Mm8/s400/11+Casual.jpg" /></a>
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And rages with lust:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A-qbvb5tong/U8UUxyvLXII/AAAAAAAACic/w39V-hzCb1k/s1600/12+Lust.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A-qbvb5tong/U8UUxyvLXII/AAAAAAAACic/w39V-hzCb1k/s400/12+Lust.jpg" /></a>
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Although his erotic nightmares do point to some sort of issue with women:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AEs-bKiN0YM/U8UU2tTh4zI/AAAAAAAACik/G2ipCPK-X-0/s1600/13+Nightmares.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AEs-bKiN0YM/U8UU2tTh4zI/AAAAAAAACik/G2ipCPK-X-0/s400/13+Nightmares.jpg" /></a>
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As well as his treatment of prostitutes:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SUqkGmYx6K4/U8UU77HWSNI/AAAAAAAACis/1tF5kqOvpo8/s1600/15+uglyprossie.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SUqkGmYx6K4/U8UU77HWSNI/AAAAAAAACis/1tF5kqOvpo8/s400/15+uglyprossie.jpg" /></a>
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And his description of their lady bits:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pd6E6QyGfwo/U8UVApfET_I/AAAAAAAACi0/Terk2M64in0/s1600/14+prossie.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pd6E6QyGfwo/U8UVApfET_I/AAAAAAAACi0/Terk2M64in0/s400/14+prossie.jpg" /></a>
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Oh and his attitude to women in comedy:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pw6XKBREZG0/U8UVnJJlCJI/AAAAAAAACjo/tDKa-iw00Z0/s1600/16+comediennes.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pw6XKBREZG0/U8UVnJJlCJI/AAAAAAAACjo/tDKa-iw00Z0/s400/16+comediennes.jpg" /></a>
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And the fact he thinks they are all filthy:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2YDiw0b9lI/U8UVsTErVjI/AAAAAAAACjw/FcznLyGPHTQ/s1600/17+life+changing.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-P2YDiw0b9lI/U8UVsTErVjI/AAAAAAAACjw/FcznLyGPHTQ/s400/17+life+changing.jpg" /></a>
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Oh and by the way, as a grown man, he bites toddlers:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pky2keRgELI/U8UVwg30D5I/AAAAAAAACj4/pXRu2v0M7S0/s1600/18+biting.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pky2keRgELI/U8UVwg30D5I/AAAAAAAACj4/pXRu2v0M7S0/s400/18+biting.jpg" /></a>
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He has an interesting name for his penis:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hQbc3luH7bc/U8UV0i5AL8I/AAAAAAAACkA/E7-Frn8REBI/s1600/19+Cuckoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hQbc3luH7bc/U8UV0i5AL8I/AAAAAAAACkA/E7-Frn8REBI/s400/19+Cuckoo.jpg" /></a>
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Has an even more interesting take on racism:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zZEp37Noess/U8UV4qMpYHI/AAAAAAAACkI/gethFP9vnx8/s1600/20+Race.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zZEp37Noess/U8UV4qMpYHI/AAAAAAAACkI/gethFP9vnx8/s400/20+Race.jpg" /></a>
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Has a yet even more interesting take on the teachings of Gandhi:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DReEZ0z0lpM/U8UV9ebD5eI/AAAAAAAACkQ/P8LJ1Q8zVVk/s1600/21+gandhi1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DReEZ0z0lpM/U8UV9ebD5eI/AAAAAAAACkQ/P8LJ1Q8zVVk/s400/21+gandhi1.jpg" /></a>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mfUc05eYEKA/U8UWBnROQKI/AAAAAAAACkY/5CwwX2z8uZo/s1600/22+gandhi2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mfUc05eYEKA/U8UWBnROQKI/AAAAAAAACkY/5CwwX2z8uZo/s400/22+gandhi2.jpg" /></a>
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He hates cheese, not like you, you idiot:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P8Be--cq4Vk/U8UWJp4bBtI/AAAAAAAACkg/k8HVNraiBrM/s1600/23+cheese.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-P8Be--cq4Vk/U8UWJp4bBtI/AAAAAAAACkg/k8HVNraiBrM/s400/23+cheese.jpg" /></a>
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He once got covered in poo from a faulty boat toilet. One for the memoirs:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ibuy7rhNXl0/U8UWOBoZV2I/AAAAAAAACko/qEayr0vsuF8/s1600/24+poo+gusher.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ibuy7rhNXl0/U8UWOBoZV2I/AAAAAAAACko/qEayr0vsuF8/s400/24+poo+gusher.jpg" /></a>
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He’s not dead, obviously:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4OimWCnooW8/U8UWSUXyqhI/AAAAAAAACkw/LXjrcpVu4Os/s1600/25+obviously.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4OimWCnooW8/U8UWSUXyqhI/AAAAAAAACkw/LXjrcpVu4Os/s400/25+obviously.jpg" /></a>
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He abused his position in local government to spy on his first wife’s lover:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bB0asIgQYqM/U8UWfTK4X-I/AAAAAAAACk4/OPxyNyPWopM/s1600/26+dossier1.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bB0asIgQYqM/U8UWfTK4X-I/AAAAAAAACk4/OPxyNyPWopM/s400/26+dossier1.jpg" /></a>
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And then presented the lover and wife with a dossier whilst they were in bed:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dX37W4Lxai4/U8UWjWUL4bI/AAAAAAAAClE/obmM3GR3rpQ/s1600/27+dossier2.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dX37W4Lxai4/U8UWjWUL4bI/AAAAAAAAClE/obmM3GR3rpQ/s400/27+dossier2.jpg" /></a>
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But things turned around when he met Debbie McGee and they had sex in a rowing boat:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCdwRGPo1cc/U8UWwLfSWeI/AAAAAAAAClM/CLENb3IfEuM/s1600/28+boatsex.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OCdwRGPo1cc/U8UWwLfSWeI/AAAAAAAAClM/CLENb3IfEuM/s400/28+boatsex.jpg" /></a>
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And finally, his most valuable life lesson. Take note:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WRmF8UZALZk/U8UW1AKUHqI/AAAAAAAAClc/vXQcAbJ7AWE/s1600/29+sellotape.jpg" imageanchor="1" ><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WRmF8UZALZk/U8UW1AKUHqI/AAAAAAAAClc/vXQcAbJ7AWE/s400/29+sellotape.jpg" /></a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com35tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-30272507348888411732013-08-18T14:21:00.002+01:002013-08-18T14:21:59.745+01:00Gachapon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2bqcupwGwHA/UhC4-gd8A-I/AAAAAAAACVY/G35ywDuNitk/s1600/Mario.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2bqcupwGwHA/UhC4-gd8A-I/AAAAAAAACVY/G35ywDuNitk/s320/Mario.jpg" /></a></div>
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This blog has been a long time in the making, which is ironic as it will be my least read given that it's about a bit of a niche subject; Gachapon.
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Gachapon are capsule machines each containing a series of toys, gadgets or phone/console accessories. The name is onomatopoeiac - 'gacha' being the sound made when you crank the handle and 'pon' being the sound made when the capsule drops down.
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There will typically be six prizes in any given Gachapon series with some being harder to get than others, so you can end up with loads of duplicates in the search for the one you want. However at only 100/200 Yen a go, it's no big deal, and as we discovered on our last trip to Japan, if you go to a collector store in Akihabara you can sell them straight back. People can then trawl the racks looking for the one they're missing:
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4eiLdKbiBJ0/UhC2xuAz-VI/AAAAAAAACVE/gEcfV5n3GcA/s1600/DSCF0578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4eiLdKbiBJ0/UhC2xuAz-VI/AAAAAAAACVE/gEcfV5n3GcA/s320/DSCF0578.JPG" /></a></div>
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When we go to Japan, we always end up wandering around the huge Gachapon floors of stores like Yodabashi at length...
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GPCLuViJSOo/UhCzt-wwoeI/AAAAAAAACUs/42vx0ZjrLso/s1600/P1000857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GPCLuViJSOo/UhCzt-wwoeI/AAAAAAAACUs/42vx0ZjrLso/s320/P1000857.JPG" /></a></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QvJOM6wlM-E/UhC0i-b0YOI/AAAAAAAACU4/Vmy7jlqRuxA/s1600/DSCF2246.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QvJOM6wlM-E/UhC0i-b0YOI/AAAAAAAACU4/Vmy7jlqRuxA/s320/DSCF2246.JPG" /></a></div>
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Partly to buy a few interesting ones and partly to just browse the weirder stuff on offer:
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Like dog wigs...
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ja_xxWD5No/UhC4XThmZBI/AAAAAAAACVQ/vI0TH3eERYE/s1600/DogHairdo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ja_xxWD5No/UhC4XThmZBI/AAAAAAAACVQ/vI0TH3eERYE/s320/DogHairdo.jpg" /></a></div>
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...Dangling cats
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xrNNYm_drHU/UhC99AOX7aI/AAAAAAAACWM/GhBRZKnPyeY/s1600/P1000671.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xrNNYm_drHU/UhC99AOX7aI/AAAAAAAACWM/GhBRZKnPyeY/s320/P1000671.JPG" /></a></div>
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...Cat's paws - perfect for businessmen's top pockets (?)
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdZuENN6LTA/UhC-nUvXybI/AAAAAAAACWc/tSi_uRDbGP0/s1600/P1000677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IdZuENN6LTA/UhC-nUvXybI/AAAAAAAACWc/tSi_uRDbGP0/s320/P1000677.JPG" /></a></div>
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...Cat's bum hand mirrors
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vqh_NXhepG8/UhC9WNIo0JI/AAAAAAAACWE/Gwn51q-wNfw/s1600/P1000587.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Vqh_NXhepG8/UhC9WNIo0JI/AAAAAAAACWE/Gwn51q-wNfw/s320/P1000587.JPG" /></a></div>
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...Pigs in boots
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIG7L9brNg8/UhC-QixS3bI/AAAAAAAACWU/9npANU5F2_8/s1600/P1000672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LIG7L9brNg8/UhC-QixS3bI/AAAAAAAACWU/9npANU5F2_8/s320/P1000672.JPG" /></a></div>
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...Polar bears dressed as men (and other bears)
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Blqg2hDtRkU/UhC5bOi97tI/AAAAAAAACVg/fs2iMMqkPXE/s1600/PolarBear.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Blqg2hDtRkU/UhC5bOi97tI/AAAAAAAACVg/fs2iMMqkPXE/s320/PolarBear.jpg" /></a></div>
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Actually, that's the one thing we made an effort to get the full set of (plus a couple from the panda version) We just found them amusing:
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-niGVOPXvDCI/UhDA4Vn9ozI/AAAAAAAACWo/uRdhOQSoIO0/s1600/P1010009.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-niGVOPXvDCI/UhDA4Vn9ozI/AAAAAAAACWo/uRdhOQSoIO0/s320/P1010009.JPG" /></a></div>
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Some of the best ones we've picked up include:
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A Doraemon gacha ball which turns into a standing figure
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A Super Mario pipe attachment for the DS
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A Super Mario egg projector
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Super Mario light up mushrooms
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Mini games consoles and controllers
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And arguably the best one, a Rilakkuma mini planter, which I have grown from seed and which is now in the back garden
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(Waiting for that plant to grow is the reason this blog has been a long time coming!)
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And finally, the icing on the cake. On our last trip we picked up a toy Gachapon machine
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A toy of a toy machine. Meta.
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Here ends my geekiest blog to date.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-75837792758466705222013-08-14T22:09:00.001+01:002013-08-14T22:09:32.491+01:00Say what you see<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--aAg5D_ovak/Ugvx0EII6eI/AAAAAAAACTc/vRTTOVOQcgA/s1600/MrChips.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--aAg5D_ovak/Ugvx0EII6eI/AAAAAAAACTc/vRTTOVOQcgA/s400/MrChips.jpg" /></a></div>
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The whole time this was on screen Roy Walker was chirpily repeating "What's Mr Chips up to? What's he doing?"
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I don't know Roy, but he must be stopped.
christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-13658352328021033782012-06-03T10:12:00.001+01:002012-06-03T10:12:35.378+01:00Now stand for the National AnthemI had cause to drive through a series of small villages yesterday.
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I was picking up my brother who lives on a farm - PLUG ALERT: It's the Rare Breeds Centre in Kent and it's staffed by the learning disabled adults who both live there in supported housing or come in from home to use the day services provided. For more info on how to visit <a href="http://www.rarebreeds.org.uk/">go here</a> or to support the charity which runs the farm <a href="http://www.rarebreeds.org.uk/our-charity">go here</a>. PLUG ENDS.
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Anyway, these small villages had a series of...I think the best word is effigies, hanging outside various houses, 'in honour' <i>(you'll understand my use of inverted commas later)</i> of the Queeen's Diamond Jubilee.
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I bravely got out of the car several times to photograph some of the best ones. Mum kept the car running though as, despite the streets being eerily empty, we concluded that the villagers were almost definitely waiting in a nearby hedge for a victim to burn along with the effigies inside a giant wicker man.
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I even wondered at one point if these effigies were really made of fabric and straw. They might have been real people, who had driven through the villages, been lured out of their cars and then gagged and covered in fabric with a crude felt tip pen face drawn on them.
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That all sounds very far fetched I know, but you can't be too careful in the countryside.
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So, here they are:
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We also discovered that Gary is going to be performing live this Sunday. Yes, <i>the</i> Gary:
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And in one of the towns we went through, we saw a man dressed as a Jubilee potato
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mM2FY482sw/T8spA38l5dI/AAAAAAAABdE/bnAGshhO540/s1600/P1000108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left:1em; margin-right:1em"><img border="0" height="300" width="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_mM2FY482sw/T8spA38l5dI/AAAAAAAABdE/bnAGshhO540/s400/P1000108.JPG" /></a></div>
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I am so proud to be British right now.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-48293646249197984112012-02-10T13:28:00.027+00:002016-03-26T07:48:07.937+00:00Sapporo Snow Festival 2012I wouldn't usually take a ten hour train ride to a city experiencing sub-zero conditions, but I made an exception this week to go to the <a href="http://www.fantasticjapan.com/sapporo-snow-festival.html">Sapporo Snow Festival</a>.
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It was more than worth it. Not least because the hotel had a massage chair in the room. But mostly because it was an amazing spectacle. Here's some pictures:
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A Japanese castle
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3NHLg54Klf4/TzUeiK7yasI/AAAAAAAABQE/zG_V6M8X-YY/s1600/DSCF0541.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3NHLg54Klf4/TzUeiK7yasI/AAAAAAAABQE/zG_V6M8X-YY/s400/DSCF0541.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707501675161479874" /></a>
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An underwater scene
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G3CNEFIRwBE/TzUetd-erdI/AAAAAAAABQQ/LQTF7HdB0-8/s1600/DSCF0522.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G3CNEFIRwBE/TzUetd-erdI/AAAAAAAABQQ/LQTF7HdB0-8/s400/DSCF0522.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707501869251603922" /></a>
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Underwater scene at night
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x7pDB9Q7W9I/TzUe7z_xUJI/AAAAAAAABQc/cu8YvZfp-L4/s1600/DSCF0628.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x7pDB9Q7W9I/TzUe7z_xUJI/AAAAAAAABQc/cu8YvZfp-L4/s400/DSCF0628.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707502115680768146" /></a>
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Mickey Mouse
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OuVqNn0woZA/TzUfLS31ZkI/AAAAAAAABQo/cNDgLnKeZ1s/s1600/DSCF0524.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OuVqNn0woZA/TzUfLS31ZkI/AAAAAAAABQo/cNDgLnKeZ1s/s400/DSCF0524.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707502381667018306" /></a>
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Characters from Japanese cartoon 'One Piece'
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NFFrMopFD7o/TzUfaBuuYhI/AAAAAAAABQ0/XSZfrLkKcRw/s1600/DSCF0556.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NFFrMopFD7o/TzUfaBuuYhI/AAAAAAAABQ0/XSZfrLkKcRw/s400/DSCF0556.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707502634763444754" /></a>
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The Taj Mahal
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IHugArYSfng/TzUfl3sUsLI/AAAAAAAABRA/CIhY5XjhUso/s1600/DSCF0536.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IHugArYSfng/TzUfl3sUsLI/AAAAAAAABRA/CIhY5XjhUso/s400/DSCF0536.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707502838227447986" /></a>
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My favourite kawaii character, Rilakkuma
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m4iPWrCl-pk/TzUf4QvDJeI/AAAAAAAABRM/Nwg6iqycHo8/s1600/DSCF0527.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m4iPWrCl-pk/TzUf4QvDJeI/AAAAAAAABRM/Nwg6iqycHo8/s400/DSCF0527.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707503154187412962" /></a>
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A games controller
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8jkJwvSaiDQ/TzUgFQmalTI/AAAAAAAABRY/h2B1OBu3B80/s1600/DSCF0569.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8jkJwvSaiDQ/TzUgFQmalTI/AAAAAAAABRY/h2B1OBu3B80/s400/DSCF0569.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707503377489499442" /></a>
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Mario Kart
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GtmHzFObl98/TzUgSOLXnYI/AAAAAAAABRk/ySBFMKPrDrE/s1600/DSCF0552.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GtmHzFObl98/TzUgSOLXnYI/AAAAAAAABRk/ySBFMKPrDrE/s400/DSCF0552.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707503600177487234" /></a>
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Sonic
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dcVpKagCNdA/TzUgcm7waHI/AAAAAAAABRw/e3W1IkwRdwk/s1600/DSCF0532.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dcVpKagCNdA/TzUgcm7waHI/AAAAAAAABRw/e3W1IkwRdwk/s400/DSCF0532.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707503778621581426" /></a>
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A monkey
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UecdfPigGtw/TzUgqNXsadI/AAAAAAAABR8/d8Wr0OQRLLc/s1600/DSCF0571.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UecdfPigGtw/TzUgqNXsadI/AAAAAAAABR8/d8Wr0OQRLLc/s400/DSCF0571.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707504012277606866" /></a>
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A dragon being carved
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O-WabDBThrE/TzUg2A8qqBI/AAAAAAAABSI/N5VjtgtFi6I/s1600/DSCF0559.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-O-WabDBThrE/TzUg2A8qqBI/AAAAAAAABSI/N5VjtgtFi6I/s400/DSCF0559.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707504215101450258" /></a>
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A crashing wave being carved
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4NeeyWWOAAM/TzUhEIGkmvI/AAAAAAAABSU/H-SrQYOBZkM/s1600/DSCF0561.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4NeeyWWOAAM/TzUhEIGkmvI/AAAAAAAABSU/H-SrQYOBZkM/s400/DSCF0561.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707504457540213490" /></a>
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Peacock ice sculpture
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l3BIqLN_dKY/TzUhQzL8tNI/AAAAAAAABSg/iRMkqf8pTdY/s1600/DSCF0601.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l3BIqLN_dKY/TzUhQzL8tNI/AAAAAAAABSg/iRMkqf8pTdY/s400/DSCF0601.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707504675263919314" /></a>
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Bear ice sculpture
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_uuDo92CXs/TzUhd2CmHZI/AAAAAAAABSs/XXTfRA_2UYA/s1600/DSCF0610.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V_uuDo92CXs/TzUhd2CmHZI/AAAAAAAABSs/XXTfRA_2UYA/s400/DSCF0610.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707504899368295826" /></a>
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Fish frozen in ice
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQ3s5WcYmCg/TzUhsEUbAgI/AAAAAAAABS8/pIWKUxMxVyQ/s1600/DSCF0606.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zQ3s5WcYmCg/TzUhsEUbAgI/AAAAAAAABS8/pIWKUxMxVyQ/s400/DSCF0606.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707505143719330306" /></a>
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Suntory Whiskey ice bar
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BnCVD5idVlo/TzUh4s8VPKI/AAAAAAAABTE/dI4ghPBwoPc/s1600/DSCF0612.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BnCVD5idVlo/TzUh4s8VPKI/AAAAAAAABTE/dI4ghPBwoPc/s400/DSCF0612.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707505360782572706" /></a>
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Sapporo Beer ice sculpture
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KlUZbpZWk8M/TzUiBrqXIeI/AAAAAAAABTQ/ZdrAUSVkCyE/s1600/DSCF0603.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KlUZbpZWk8M/TzUiBrqXIeI/AAAAAAAABTQ/ZdrAUSVkCyE/s400/DSCF0603.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707505515057586658" /></a>
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'Illumination Road'
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gC5n4kHWx_M/TzUiP_YfaSI/AAAAAAAABTc/rRVOhVclL3s/s1600/DSCF0615.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gC5n4kHWx_M/TzUiP_YfaSI/AAAAAAAABTc/rRVOhVclL3s/s400/DSCF0615.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707505760869509410" /></a>
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There was loads more too...
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Whilst in Sapporo I was reading about the snow and ensuing travel chaos back in the UK. Now, given that I was somewhere you kept seeing bikes in this condition...
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jMLnwHnMAf4/TzUi3SZlPNI/AAAAAAAABTo/EAG49Yyn8HU/s1600/DSCF0577.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jMLnwHnMAf4/TzUi3SZlPNI/AAAAAAAABTo/EAG49Yyn8HU/s400/DSCF0577.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707506435989257426" /></a>
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...and that I'd got there without any delays, even though this was the view out of the train window most of the way...
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNRcktXgmVY/TzUjP8LyQdI/AAAAAAAABT0/DnxZRHgXyik/s1600/DSCF0642.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oNRcktXgmVY/TzUjP8LyQdI/AAAAAAAABT0/DnxZRHgXyik/s400/DSCF0642.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707506859522539986" /></a>
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...well, 'embarrassing' comes to mind!
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I particularly liked this from my local paper:
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<span style="font-style:italic;">(click on the picture to maximise)</span>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Vuqs7zSJ8Q/TzUl9bBFHVI/AAAAAAAABUA/LLIo9quwJzw/s1600/smattering.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5Vuqs7zSJ8Q/TzUl9bBFHVI/AAAAAAAABUA/LLIo9quwJzw/s400/smattering.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5707509839916506450" /></a>
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Attention. Only make essential journeys. There has been a 'smattering' of snow.
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The horror.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-15507406623028330152011-11-29T22:03:00.010+00:002011-11-29T22:57:12.858+00:00Peter Simon SaysJames has already given me one of my Christmas presents.
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Now, before you all rush to judgement, consider this. Could you sit on a gift this good for a whole month?...
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We're talking Peter Simon's book, 'Peter Simon Says':
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-20DerbQX_5s/TtVXo8LrzsI/AAAAAAAABOI/3EyzZgK_ox4/s1600/DSCF1190.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-20DerbQX_5s/TtVXo8LrzsI/AAAAAAAABOI/3EyzZgK_ox4/s400/DSCF1190.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680542865859268290" /></a>
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It's signed:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s1joGWfdxQ0/TtVX7O5WsUI/AAAAAAAABOU/rCuOTLOwI-k/s1600/DSCF1193.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s1joGWfdxQ0/TtVX7O5WsUI/AAAAAAAABOU/rCuOTLOwI-k/s400/DSCF1193.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680543180120305986" /></a>
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...You get an insight into his life:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sBPxPWytbt4/TtVYsoVpg3I/AAAAAAAABOg/RN8QpevtZgk/s1600/DSCF1199.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sBPxPWytbt4/TtVYsoVpg3I/AAAAAAAABOg/RN8QpevtZgk/s400/DSCF1199.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680544028763456370" /></a>
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...You get a style guide (remember when people used to say 'crucial'?):
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRoj8OqF5cU/TtVZSDVEKWI/AAAAAAAABOs/lQmZ4Uh6VuY/s1600/DSCF1198.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cRoj8OqF5cU/TtVZSDVEKWI/AAAAAAAABOs/lQmZ4Uh6VuY/s400/DSCF1198.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680544671663925602" /></a>
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...You get...whatever this is:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-DGavaYdac/TtVZgc_uc2I/AAAAAAAABO4/nKUrOigbf2s/s1600/DSCF1195.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7-DGavaYdac/TtVZgc_uc2I/AAAAAAAABO4/nKUrOigbf2s/s400/DSCF1195.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680544919071912802" /></a>
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...And finally, my favourite - Peter's Poll. Wherein we learn that racism is only slightly worse than going in lifts:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u54J9obAV4w/TtVaY_pydCI/AAAAAAAABPE/ArQ1quKPqCM/s1600/DSCF1196.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-u54J9obAV4w/TtVaY_pydCI/AAAAAAAABPE/ArQ1quKPqCM/s400/DSCF1196.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680545890447815714" /></a>
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A mischievous friend of mine photo shopped my picture and put Peter Sutcliffe's face over Peter Simon's:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TcwkFo-Z2EM/TtVdxuWYXzI/AAAAAAAABPQ/7gFaRsPivlk/s1600/Sutcliffe%2527s_Poll.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TcwkFo-Z2EM/TtVdxuWYXzI/AAAAAAAABPQ/7gFaRsPivlk/s400/Sutcliffe%2527s_Poll.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680549613834624818" /></a>
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It puts a new spin on reading the list, eh?
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So that's one Christmas wish come true. Care to help me with another one?
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If you do one web search through this charity search page, it will raise money for the disability charity which supports my brother: <a href="www.everyclick.com/canterburyoasttrust">www.everyclick.com/canterburyoasttrust</a>
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I'd love to get them up to £2000 by Christmas.
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It's free and takes seconds. Pretty please!christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-31347768038490873502011-11-18T23:13:00.002+00:002011-11-18T23:27:57.616+00:00Richard Herring's Objective<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iWqyk1qNLAI/TsbmyeSgBoI/AAAAAAAABN8/aDSm12H4xTs/s1600/obj.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 210px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iWqyk1qNLAI/TsbmyeSgBoI/AAAAAAAABN8/aDSm12H4xTs/s400/obj.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5676478135145596546" /></a>
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For those of you who missed it, Richard Herring covered disability in this week's edition of Objective.
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The subject was brilliantly handled, the tone was non-patronising and it was really sweet in places.
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Most of all it was funny.
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Like I've been saying for, well, forever; disability and comedy can mix. But the jokes should be about attitudes to disability, and not be mere pot shots at disabled people.
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The show will be available on Listen Again for a few more days. Give it a go. You'll even get to hear my freakish Dr Girlfriend voice:
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<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0174gl1/Richard_Herrings_Objective_Series_2_The_Wheelchair/">http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b0174gl1/Richard_Herrings_Objective_Series_2_The_Wheelchair/</a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-64083473904043911192011-10-28T10:39:00.005+01:002020-02-24T22:48:43.454+00:00AddendumAs promised in <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-time-no-blog.html">my last blog</a>, here is that scan of Christinamartinbocks from this month’s issue.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUrXAmz8bs8/XlRSng0Wk0I/AAAAAAAAJuY/lYR766ACJJkOa4_vOn-wQ4_fY3gRdCZzQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/untitled.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-XUrXAmz8bs8/XlRSng0Wk0I/AAAAAAAAJuY/lYR766ACJJkOa4_vOn-wQ4_fY3gRdCZzQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/untitled.JPG" width="320" height="219" data-original-width="540" data-original-height="369" /></a></div>
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Correction alert. I actually got the star letter twice.
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I tweeted the lads jokingly about this, and inadvertently kicked off a third round:
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Uh-oh...christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-62941894880969214962011-10-18T20:39:00.012+01:002011-10-18T23:20:16.707+01:00Long time, no blogWell hello, and how are we all?
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I haven't blogged for over a month so I thought I should check in. I know, I know, the arrogance. As though people are standing by with bated breath, waiting for little old me to say something.
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At least I know my unsolicited ramblings are just that, so I guess that makes me as wise as Socrates, and more self aware than 99% of internet dwellers. Huzzah.
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As I write this, I'm sitting in a hotel room eating a Wispa and a packet of bacon crisps for dinner - I don't know if Socrates ever did that - I offer this bit of, apparently pointless information purely by way of giving context.
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Nowadays I am busy. Really busy. Like all the time. I've had a headache for about two months. I take tablets, go to bed, and wake up with a headache. I'm always tired. Tired enough to sleep tired. All the time. Stupid recession. Everyone who hasn't been laid off is left behind to do quadruple the work. Hence no blog action until I do an overnighter in Leeds, where I'm alone and eating a scurvy inducing diet.
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Say it with me now, the mantra of the moment: "At least you've got a job"
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Yes. However overworked and stressed we all are, we can at least whimper that before we collapse in an exhausted heap at night eh? While the axe still looms over us, threatening to take even that away...
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Cheery aren't I? Bet you wish I hadn't resumed blogging. Ok, I'll change the subject to something more upbeat: BULLSEYE!
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bVOtT8RlGn4/Tp3hY3rRqpI/AAAAAAAABMw/HVUG61x27XY/s1600/bullseye.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bVOtT8RlGn4/Tp3hY3rRqpI/AAAAAAAABMw/HVUG61x27XY/s400/bullseye.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664931723680524946" /></a>
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James and I have had a weird couple of weeks watching our <a href="http://bullseyecontestants.tumblr.com/">Bullseye Tumblr</a> go viral.
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It started out as a little pet project. Us taking photos of Bullseye contestants who captured the spirit of the age, and also the spirit of the show (that of awkward misery) and sharing them with friends. We had about 3 proper followers.
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Then it got picked up by Sabotage Times, Anorak, Popbitch, B3ta, even The Independent tweeted it. Our followers went up to over 500 in a week.
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Sabotage Times then asked me to write a piece for them about it, <a href="http://www.sabotagetimes.com/tv-film/you-cant-beat-a-bit-of-bully-celebrating-the-contestants-of-bullseye/">which you can read here</a>. And Anorak offered me a job writing TV and showbiz articles!
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The moment I knew it had gone truly viral though was when the link got forwarded around my office and I got a bemused email from a colleague saying "erm...is this you?"
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In other news, James and I have 7 pieces featured in the <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Cleveland-Steamer-Annual-2012-Annuals/dp/1907779906/ref=sr_1_sc_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1318968900&sr=1-1-spell">Viz annual</a> and their <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Anus-Horribilis-Year-stuff-Thunderbox/dp/1907779914">Anus Horribilis</a> book.
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If you want to check out our articles they are as follows:
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<span style="font-weight:bold;">Viz annual</span>
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Page 9 - Where Are They Now?
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Page 23 - I'm Too Sexy For My Lease
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<span style="font-weight:bold;">Anus Horribilis</span>
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Page 153 - Fanny Batter's Hollywood Jigsaw Gossip
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Page 190 - Snack Attack!
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Pages 202-203 - Who's The Best Hawk/s?
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Page 260 - Pear Postbag
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Page 375 - Ghost Box
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Speaking of Viz, the past couple of issues they've taken to giving over a quarter of the letters page to me, which feels peculiar but is very flattering of course.
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This is from last month's issue:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KgZwMwh5jlQ/Tp3fyIPdtHI/AAAAAAAABMk/uYCjnrdsURA/s1600/397809754.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KgZwMwh5jlQ/Tp3fyIPdtHI/AAAAAAAABMk/uYCjnrdsURA/s400/397809754.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5664929958600750194" /></a>
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I haven't seen this month's yet, but James informs me that the letters in this issue are <span style="font-style:italic;">about</span> me rather than from me. Intriguing, and not a little worrying!
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I'll blog a scan of that page when I get home.
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And finally! I did an interview with Richard Herring last week for his show '<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b013spkp">Richard Herring's Objective</a>' where he takes something contentious or taboo and tries to be objective about it.
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In episode two of his new series he's covering disability and wanted to pre-record an interview with me because in addition to <a href="http://www.mencap.org.uk/community/family-blogs/christinas-blog">having a disabled brother</a>, having worked and volunteered for Mencap and <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/libertycentral/2010/jun/01/disablist-language-retard">having written about disablism</a>, I also used to be a stand-up comic and so have a view on the disabled jokes I've seen on the circuit.
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I really enjoyed the interview, we covered a lot of issues - which I won't go into here as I've blogged about this subject a 1000 times - and when I went along to the live record, quite a bit of my interview had been used, which was great (although it obviously won't all make the final cut)
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I tell you, it's not until you sit in a theatre and hear your own voice booming around you, that you realise what you really sound like.
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Turns out I sound like Dr Girlfriend from Venture Brothers...Google it.
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The show content and our interview couldn't have been more timely, as they took place in the week when Ricky Gervais started going to town on using the word 'mong' on Twitter.
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When challenged Gervais said that it didn't have an association with disability anymore and he was reclaiming it.
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(I eagerly await his brave attempts to reclaim the word 'wog' and 'paki')
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He didn't make clear what it was he imagined 'mong' now meant, and undermined his position ever so slightly by posting photos of himself doing a 'mong' face.
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The same face that was pulled in my direction all through school by people who seemed to think it hilarious that my brother was born brain damaged.
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I remember coming to class once, and everyone was waiting for me. The floor had been cleared to make way for two girls, one sitting in the teacher's swivel chair, the other pushing her along, like she was in a wheelchair. As she was pushed along the girl in the chair did the whole 'spaz' act; stuck her tongue out, twisted her limbs up, made noises, drooled. All in my honour. Then everyone laughed at me. Like I was the one worthy of being mocked in that scenario!
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When I would go shopping with my family, kids my own age would follow me and my brother around laughing at him, pointing and saying 'spastic' 'mong' 'retard'.
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I dunno, maybe I just don't have the winning sense of humour that Gervais does. Maybe they too were masters of irony.
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Even if he is being ironic, his followers are not, and are tweeting 'mong' left and right with childish glee. One person tweeted to Gervais "I love it when you say mong" Huh? What, just the word, in and of itself? Easily entertained much?
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Richard Herring, bless him, stuck his neck out and suggested that these kind of words are hurtful and that the climate being as it is - 9 out 10 learning disabled children being bullied, a 20% rise in disability hate crime this year including murder, the list goes on - that it was no joke and not something to be taken lightly.
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Because of this interjection, Richard's been suffering a barrage of foul mouthed abuse from Gervais' fans over Twitter ever since.
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I think that tells you all you need to know about the kind of people who are following Gervais and how reckless he is being to encourage their casual use of hateful words. Reclaiming? My arse. These people are using that word at face value.
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As usual there are cries of 'freedom of speech!' merely because people are suggesting it's not the best thing in the world to be saying.
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Give me a break. Your freedom of speech is not being threatened in the real sense. Unless the secret police are coming for you in the night, you are merely being engaged in a debate, not oppressed.
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Questioning people's right to question you, and labelling it a freedom of speech matter is supremely ironic. But as we've established, these people don't do irony.
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Yes, you are <span style="font-style:italic;">technically</span> free to say whatever you so wish, however there's this little thing called civilization which requires people to put a filter on what they say out loud, lest we go all 'Lord of the Flies' on each other asses. Without that filter, there would be no society, we would all be walking down the street pointing at everyone we passed saying "Fat...Ugly...Punching above your weight there mate...Cunt"
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Wouldn't work would it? The only people who operate on that flawed basis are those annoying types you get on Big Brother, you know the ones, who say "what you see is what you get with me, I tell it like it is, if I don't like you, I'll tell you"
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They will then openly insult people all day long and expect to be hailed as a hero for it.
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Who wants to be that person? Defiant in their pig ignorance and their abject rudeness; aspiring to nothing.
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I'll finish on a little anecdote.
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I've been struggling with my feelings towards Gervais for a long time now. I loved the XFM years and The Office. I thought he dealt with reactions to disability really well in the latter. Brent's behaviour towards the employee in the wheelchair was so well observed.
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He did sail quite close to the wind in his stand-up sometimes and that made me recoil a bit, but I thought he was smarter than that and concluded it must have been done with irony.
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Then I met him. Or rather didn't. And had to conclude that, yes, he is just a jackass. Here comes that anecdote. I've been sitting on it out of respect. It's not classy to bad mouth other comics. But I am no longer a comic and he no longer deserves my respect.
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So, I did some stand-up at the Bloomsbury Theatre a few Christmases ago. I was really excited about it as I was on the same bill as Stewart Lee, Richard Herring, Mark Thomas, Josie Long, Chris Addison, loads of really good people. Gervais was also on the bill.
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We had a massive green room, full of food and stuff that we were autographing for auction. As it was Christmas there was a lovely festive feel and everyone was having fun backstage.
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I was waiting for Gervais to turn up but he never did. After a while it was explained to us by the organiser that he refused to share a green room with anyone, in case we bothered him. Can you imagine Stewart Lee going all fan boy over Ricky Gervais? Please!
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They'd had to make him up an impromptu dressing room out of one of the spare rooms backstage. Food and drink was removed from our room for him, and the stuff to be autographed was collected and taken to him when we were all done signing it.
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When the show started we all stood in the wings, cheering each other on and watching each others' sets. Then the organiser informed us that Gervais didn't want anyone standing in the wings when he was on, and that we were all to go back to the basement dressing rooms before and during his performance. Twenty performers, many of them top names, being bossed about by this diva-ish man.
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I thought 'screw that - you don't tell me where to stand' so I hid behind a giant beanstalk (panto season!) and waited for him to go on.
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He emerged from the dressing room area, with a miserable face on him, and did a quick check of the wings to make sure no oiks were hanging around. He didn't find me. Don't know what he'd have done if he had.
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Oh and he had a man following him, carrying his bottled water. All he was missing was a chiuaua in a bag.
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What a jackass. What a shame.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-51947551057016752502011-08-16T22:45:00.014+01:002011-08-20T21:42:44.300+01:00Bullseye (again)Yes, another Bullseye blog. I'd like to promise you that it will be my last but we both know I would be lying. Ok, here goes...
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A giant and a leprechaun team up:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cocTXTIMTV8/TlAXq0JYUAI/AAAAAAAABLU/cBq6jyKeyzM/s1600/DSCF0935.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cocTXTIMTV8/TlAXq0JYUAI/AAAAAAAABLU/cBq6jyKeyzM/s400/DSCF0935.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643036357415161858" /></a>
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That beard deserves a closer look:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gUHRfcNUnwM/TlAY5qCumgI/AAAAAAAABLc/5MT-ag1Y2uE/s1600/DSCF0936.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gUHRfcNUnwM/TlAY5qCumgI/AAAAAAAABLc/5MT-ag1Y2uE/s400/DSCF0936.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643037711912573442" /></a>
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A lovely waistcoat:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EtiRvuio4KM/TlAXIZAM3UI/AAAAAAAABLM/RKi5LLU6oFs/s1600/DSCF0944.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EtiRvuio4KM/TlAXIZAM3UI/AAAAAAAABLM/RKi5LLU6oFs/s400/DSCF0944.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643035766013353282" /></a>
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Almost as nice as this shirt:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JeOFp_7Vc9M/TkrlHvvLt7I/AAAAAAAABK4/_TOz8nh1kHQ/s1600/DSCF0934.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JeOFp_7Vc9M/TkrlHvvLt7I/AAAAAAAABK4/_TOz8nh1kHQ/s400/DSCF0934.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5641573404471179186" /></a>
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Poshest Bullseye couple ever?:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V18OJxVtT7M/TlAagbSH__I/AAAAAAAABL8/HMJX6XTb8aQ/s1600/DSCF0964.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-V18OJxVtT7M/TlAagbSH__I/AAAAAAAABL8/HMJX6XTb8aQ/s400/DSCF0964.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643039477477146610" /></a>
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A moustache and a half:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2fzB8utVNbs/TlAZ0uXE01I/AAAAAAAABLs/-7gw6VjtZcM/s1600/DSCF0966.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2fzB8utVNbs/TlAZ0uXE01I/AAAAAAAABLs/-7gw6VjtZcM/s400/DSCF0966.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643038726683939666" /></a>
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Unclassifiable:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddrVJSKbnRo/TlAZYLmS07I/AAAAAAAABLk/0R_Y-dp1S1E/s1600/DSCF0952.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ddrVJSKbnRo/TlAZYLmS07I/AAAAAAAABLk/0R_Y-dp1S1E/s400/DSCF0952.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643038236316193714" /></a>
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But none of them are as bad as the audience:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dh1hLnBiZI/TlAa6WSx9MI/AAAAAAAABME/ImLiaJaSOio/s1600/DSCF0968.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0dh1hLnBiZI/TlAa6WSx9MI/AAAAAAAABME/ImLiaJaSOio/s400/DSCF0968.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5643039922814317762" /></a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-64814176828252475052011-07-23T15:16:00.008+01:002011-07-23T15:30:27.351+01:00Another Bullseye BlogYes, it's another <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2011/06/its-bullseye.html">Bullseye blog</a>. Sorry. But the endless repeats on Challenge TV have thrown up a couple more beauties.
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Matching hair, clashing blouses:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bn3Bqq1WqoU/TirYqGOaA3I/AAAAAAAABKA/kdiKgeOW4xY/s1600/DSCF0915.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Bn3Bqq1WqoU/TirYqGOaA3I/AAAAAAAABKA/kdiKgeOW4xY/s400/DSCF0915.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632552501717369714" /></a>
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The man who just got through to Bully's prize board, but appears to be having suicidal thoughts.
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ihyi_SZAJ9g/TirYMmC_3zI/AAAAAAAABJ4/099zDNsplag/s1600/DSCF0913.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ihyi_SZAJ9g/TirYMmC_3zI/AAAAAAAABJ4/099zDNsplag/s400/DSCF0913.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632551994863378226" /></a>
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And the nice man who brought a serial killer on the show with him:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjLE61hzL7o/TirY_7IV63I/AAAAAAAABKI/spu6Hu9KjT4/s1600/DSCF0918.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VjLE61hzL7o/TirY_7IV63I/AAAAAAAABKI/spu6Hu9KjT4/s400/DSCF0918.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632552876696267634" /></a>
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Chilling:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HVRyondj6s8/TirZoHnK3OI/AAAAAAAABKQ/RXhW7hVLOHk/s1600/DSCF0919.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HVRyondj6s8/TirZoHnK3OI/AAAAAAAABKQ/RXhW7hVLOHk/s400/DSCF0919.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5632553567241559266" /></a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-46989753682598010162011-06-30T21:28:00.016+01:002011-07-03T21:05:19.100+01:00It's a Bullseye!I've been watching a lot of Bullsye repeats lately and have become obsessed with getting photos of the weirdest looking contestants.
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It would be selfish not to share, so here you go (you're welcome):
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<em>The man who looks like his own mugshot</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y0VBPbagcWw/ThDLTOSPESI/AAAAAAAABJw/V0pX00V8FcY/s1600/DSCF0892.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y0VBPbagcWw/ThDLTOSPESI/AAAAAAAABJw/V0pX00V8FcY/s400/DSCF0892.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625219465698283810" /></a>
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<em>The man whose quiff is trying to escape from his head</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rqbz4SkiUZQ/ThDGYXej4eI/AAAAAAAABJQ/3qHDZJWIk2o/s1600/DSCF0897.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rqbz4SkiUZQ/ThDGYXej4eI/AAAAAAAABJQ/3qHDZJWIk2o/s400/DSCF0897.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625214056507105762" /></a>
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<em>The biggest glasses in recorded history</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlZVrW3NqzA/TgzfHUxLPWI/AAAAAAAABI4/DhGboNKh3Kg/s1600/DSCF0886.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nlZVrW3NqzA/TgzfHUxLPWI/AAAAAAAABI4/DhGboNKh3Kg/s400/DSCF0886.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624115351605951842" /></a>
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<em>The fun twins</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xSCbHr23wZc/TgzgHOiPhuI/AAAAAAAABJA/CNaKGMrFgz0/s1600/DSCF0877.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xSCbHr23wZc/TgzgHOiPhuI/AAAAAAAABJA/CNaKGMrFgz0/s400/DSCF0877.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624116449444333282" /></a>
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<em>A frizzy mullet. A ginger frizzy mullet at that</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zFj3uC6K18k/TgzelwqYpGI/AAAAAAAABIw/mnE6tSOC1TU/s1600/DSCF0885.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zFj3uC6K18k/TgzelwqYpGI/AAAAAAAABIw/mnE6tSOC1TU/s400/DSCF0885.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624114774978110562" /></a>
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The official ambassador to the 1970s:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-22uCP-T3TbA/ThDGsrRftpI/AAAAAAAABJY/vRI4i9pBiSc/s1600/DSCF0899.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-22uCP-T3TbA/ThDGsrRftpI/AAAAAAAABJY/vRI4i9pBiSc/s400/DSCF0899.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625214405418399378" /></a>
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<em>Very tall hair</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73mAc797xR0/Tgzd1QoMseI/AAAAAAAABIo/llnThyKdspY/s1600/DSCF0884.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-73mAc797xR0/Tgzd1QoMseI/AAAAAAAABIo/llnThyKdspY/s400/DSCF0884.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624113941745283554" /></a>
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<em>A huge man and a tiny man mesmerise Jim Bowen</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8TRgKWtcc8/ThDHQV3U-9I/AAAAAAAABJo/PeBob2Dlvtk/s1600/DSCF0896.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-X8TRgKWtcc8/ThDHQV3U-9I/AAAAAAAABJo/PeBob2Dlvtk/s400/DSCF0896.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625215018146790354" /></a>
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<em>A striking beard / shirt combo</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Epr4V7kZ6iY/TgzdD80bvbI/AAAAAAAABIg/RM_X7VhPwZM/s1600/DSCF0881.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Epr4V7kZ6iY/TgzdD80bvbI/AAAAAAAABIg/RM_X7VhPwZM/s400/DSCF0881.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624113094614302130" /></a>
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<em>And finally...I don't know how to describe this gentleman</em>:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hqI5G_CjzDU/ThDG9WirMcI/AAAAAAAABJg/Efqpe9eaVc8/s1600/DSCF0903.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hqI5G_CjzDU/ThDG9WirMcI/AAAAAAAABJg/Efqpe9eaVc8/s400/DSCF0903.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5625214691911086530" /></a>
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The Endchristinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-4513638375970599592011-04-21T21:44:00.008+01:002011-04-21T22:22:38.903+01:00You Bet!Yes, this is a blog about the 90's game show 'You Bet'.
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I know there's not much call for that type of thing these days, but I saw the worst 'bet' attempt in the history of the show on Challenge the other day and it had to be recorded for posterity.
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A strange old man set himself the (very easy, considering he set it himself) challenge of identifying accents, and then failed about 25 seconds in. Observe:
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The blindfold goes on, the challenge begins:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvbUp_B73Yk/TbCXULRGrfI/AAAAAAAABFU/INNSYuY2k-E/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uvbUp_B73Yk/TbCXULRGrfI/AAAAAAAABFU/INNSYuY2k-E/s400/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598140709699235314" /></a>
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The representative for Italy returns to the line-up after he passes on the Italian accent:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K5EkwDjPRKY/TbCXjzcpqXI/AAAAAAAABFc/8qYrnwQTgeY/s1600/002.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K5EkwDjPRKY/TbCXjzcpqXI/AAAAAAAABFc/8qYrnwQTgeY/s400/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598140978183121266" /></a>
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He correctly identifies the American accent. Arguably the most recognisable of all the accents:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OID65P0-lBM/TbCX9X87XsI/AAAAAAAABFk/U7W1TKlw5Jw/s1600/003.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OID65P0-lBM/TbCX9X87XsI/AAAAAAAABFk/U7W1TKlw5Jw/s400/003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598141417478905538" /></a>
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But alas, he uses up his second and final fail by identifying the Dutch accent as....Indian:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgrL-KnGdxQ/TbCYaNkqmjI/AAAAAAAABFs/vkF27k8xvrM/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YgrL-KnGdxQ/TbCYaNkqmjI/AAAAAAAABFs/vkF27k8xvrM/s400/004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598141912908995122" /></a>
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He can't believe it:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OVB8_dc05z8/TbCYtyujClI/AAAAAAAABF0/GrjhfxPSnS0/s1600/005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OVB8_dc05z8/TbCYtyujClI/AAAAAAAABF0/GrjhfxPSnS0/s400/005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598142249300068946" /></a>
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And is slightly embarrassed, as he should be:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hEeSm54uNZs/TbCY9IWHU_I/AAAAAAAABF8/I0J5AAAk5-s/s1600/006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hEeSm54uNZs/TbCY9IWHU_I/AAAAAAAABF8/I0J5AAAk5-s/s400/006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598142512801207282" /></a>
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Matthew Kelly doesn't really know what to say:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aYcPE_SppFA/TbCZNXDGWYI/AAAAAAAABGE/0jk6VnuvF5w/s1600/008.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aYcPE_SppFA/TbCZNXDGWYI/AAAAAAAABGE/0jk6VnuvF5w/s400/008.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598142791625890178" /></a>
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And so the challenge ends, 25 seconds after beginning, with a whimper:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiPWSIdh7Lc/TbCZdx4Q7cI/AAAAAAAABGM/RXnKCd9twNU/s1600/009.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MiPWSIdh7Lc/TbCZdx4Q7cI/AAAAAAAABGM/RXnKCd9twNU/s400/009.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598143073706110402" /></a>
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And poor old Andrew O'Connor of Chain Letters fame ended up having to do the forfeit on next week's show for betting that the old man would be successful.
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FL6cvu26M5U/TbCfJjqW15I/AAAAAAAABGU/Mvc-6jPsDAI/s1600/chain%2Bletters.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 318px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FL6cvu26M5U/TbCfJjqW15I/AAAAAAAABGU/Mvc-6jPsDAI/s400/chain%2Bletters.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598149323362064274" /></a>
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Yes, I'd forgotten about Andrew O'Connor too.
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The end.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-30499700183207695632011-03-27T22:20:00.005+01:002011-03-27T23:03:49.681+01:00Peter Simon and Clarry the CockeralLast night on Bid TV, Peter Simon was trying to shift this solar panelled cockeral called Clarry:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MxXWvutiTsM/TY-yO878dgI/AAAAAAAABEc/o7yDCZqL6NI/s1600/DSCF0789.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MxXWvutiTsM/TY-yO878dgI/AAAAAAAABEc/o7yDCZqL6NI/s400/DSCF0789.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588881632535541250" /></a>
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A tall order to be sure.
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This weird item, resulted in an equally weird pitch; one of his best - <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2010/08/yet-more-things-i-saw-this-week.html">and that's saying something</a>.
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I've transcribed it below (<span style="font-style:italic;">well, as best I could, between laughing fits</span>). Enjoy:
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lyy2eeEapfY/TY-xxKcN4jI/AAAAAAAABEU/tYykCjL43z4/s1600/DSCF0792.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lyy2eeEapfY/TY-xxKcN4jI/AAAAAAAABEU/tYykCjL43z4/s400/DSCF0792.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588881120764486194" /></a>
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Now, we're going to something that I love next. It's a cockeral. But this is no ordinary cockeral. This is the cockeral of the sounding of that wonderful tune in the morning. This is Clarence the cockeral.
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Now, the cockeral has been with us since the beginning of time.
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It's such a symbolic character and I don't know about you but in the eefo heebo stories (<span style="font-style:italic;">I think he meant Aesop's Fables</span>) well, are just quite remarkable. (<span style="font-style:italic;">I'm not sure what that sentence meant</span>)
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The story of Clarry of cockeral goes back to Julia the Ceaser (<span style="font-style:italic;">Julius Ceasar - and I doubt that</span>).
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Ceasar used to have a cockeral in his individual palaces. The cockeral was a warning to Ceasar of the times of foreboding. If the cockeral didn't start the day with those early morning cries then Ceasar knew the day would be delayed and difficult.
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The cockeral by Caesar was used in battles. He was not only proud, he was not only masculine, his sound in the morning was to echo around Rome. His wonderful chin with those beak lines. He's proud, he's masculine, he's Clarry the cockeral.
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<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEKFlbp0xqk/TY-zlOoaGfI/AAAAAAAABEk/Dtbv7zHdGZ4/s1600/DSCF0798.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MEKFlbp0xqk/TY-zlOoaGfI/AAAAAAAABEk/Dtbv7zHdGZ4/s400/DSCF0798.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5588883114754185714" /></a>
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It's going to look delicious in a rockery, and certainly on the egde of a lawn. It's the sort of thing that creates an atmosphere and talking point in gardens. You <span style="font-style:italic;">will</span> be asked about it. You can name it yourself, but it comes from the proud rooster that is the cockeral that illuminates the garden.
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This is a large cockeral as well. He's 12 inches. And cock a doodle do, you've got it for £9!christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-67075963933094906522011-03-08T16:21:00.004+00:002020-02-24T15:43:31.666+00:00Comment is Free - Amazon ReviewsHello!
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Sorry I haven't blogged for ages, I've been really busy.
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<span style="font-style:italic;">(That's not me trying to subtly hint that I have some sort of exciting, high falutin lifestyle by the way. By 'busy' I mean dealing with a broken washing machine, stuff like that)</span>
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Anyway here's my only bit of news.
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I've had another article published by Comment is Free, this time about Amazon reviews.
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If you follow this blog you might be aware that I waste a lot of my spare time writing spoof product reviews, both <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/pdp/profile/A34P74M2CSC0O9/ref=cm_aya_pdp_home">under my own name</a> and in other guises, including a <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2009/04/as-christian.html">born-again Christian character called Noel</a>.
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In the past my reviews have been picked up on by <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2009/05/weblebrity-of-week.html">Radio 2's Weblebrity of the Week</a> and by Olly and Helen who once nominated me for <a href="http://christinalouisemartin.blogspot.com/2010/01/web-jape-of-year.html">Web Jape of the Year</a>. This is how one of the CiF editors became aware of me.
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So when a string of suspect praise was posted for a self-help book on Amazon last week, they asked me as a <span style="font-style:italic;">professional*</span> faker, to cover it.
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Here's the article: <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/mar/07/online-books-reviews-amazon">http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/mar/07/online-books-reviews-amazon</a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-22540817070336536742010-11-11T10:11:00.015+00:002010-11-11T13:53:11.867+00:00Escape from Millbank TowerSo, yesterday was eventful!
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In the morning I got a call from MENCAP inviting me for an interview. It's my dream job. Wish me luck!
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…And then half an hour later, the fire alarm went off.
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When the alarms go off, it’s usually over nothing, so we all filed out with no sense of panic, bemoaning the idiot who had left the toasted sandwich maker on.
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However when we got outside we heard a lot of chanting, yelling and thumping. It was at that point that we realised the student demonstration had descended on us. We still weren’t worried though. Demonstrations are noisy but usually non violent.
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It wasn’t until we tried to get to the front of the building that we realised the thumping sound was being caused by hundreds of protestors, throwing themselves against the glass façade of 30 Millbank, trying to smash it. We also saw fires being lit.
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Hmm, ok, slight panic setting in at this point...
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I pushed my way through to the front of both buildings and saw that the windows of my building – the larger, Millbank Tower – had been smashed and graffitied, and the sofas from our waiting room had been dragged out into the middle of the street, where protestors were sitting in them. There were also smoke bombs going off in our lobby.
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I slipped back into the building and walked the 16 flights of stairs up to my floor. There was no way I was staying outside with that lot!
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However, we had a constant, deafening fire alarm going off, so I couldn’t stay there either.
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I called my boss who was in a meeting at a nearby hotel. God knows what he thought when he picked up. All he could hear was a fire alarm and me yelling about our building being smashed in.
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He said I should try and get out and fight my way home. So I grabbed my stuff, as well as his laptop and bags, and headed back down the way I’d came.
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My timing was, I was told this morning, impeccable. I managed to get my boss’ bags to him and get out of Millbank and over Vauxhall Bridge five minutes before the glass of 30 Millbank finally got smashed and things got really nasty.
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By the time I got home the radio news was talking about riot police and people throwing fire extinguishers off the roof.
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I brought my camera to work this morning and this is how things look right now:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBiP4kGHI/AAAAAAAABCE/RDo3gB-OIUU/s1600/Picture%2B002.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBiP4kGHI/AAAAAAAABCE/RDo3gB-OIUU/s400/Picture%2B002.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538232960905648242" /></a>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBoqEXkMI/AAAAAAAABCM/GYmY4ooIahY/s1600/Picture%2B003.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBoqEXkMI/AAAAAAAABCM/GYmY4ooIahY/s400/Picture%2B003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538233071013695682" /></a>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBu98Vj4I/AAAAAAAABCU/GoEjq0oXdRE/s1600/Picture%2B004.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvBu98Vj4I/AAAAAAAABCU/GoEjq0oXdRE/s400/Picture%2B004.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538233179427934082" /></a>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvB1YqCTvI/AAAAAAAABCc/4fSwPxm-4co/s1600/Picture%2B005.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvB1YqCTvI/AAAAAAAABCc/4fSwPxm-4co/s400/Picture%2B005.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538233289678147314" /></a>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvB8tW42tI/AAAAAAAABCk/4JKLEVm6rzY/s1600/Picture%2B006.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TNvB8tW42tI/AAAAAAAABCk/4JKLEVm6rzY/s400/Picture%2B006.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5538233415494064850" /></a>
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30 Millbank is closed as a crime scene, and I just got an email from facilities management saying that the coffee shop next door to them is open for trading, but only out of the back door.
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Millbank Tower is open, but security is very tight.
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Oh and irony of ironies. I work for an education trust.
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So anyway, scary smoke bombs aside, I was actually quite grateful for the early day. It gave me a chance to go to Tesco before dinner.
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And I did enjoy channelling my inner Bruce Willis. Yippee kay yay motherfucker!christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-76934007044040378642010-08-24T11:41:00.001+01:002010-08-24T11:46:14.863+01:00God Trumps<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/THOi5ihjvWI/AAAAAAAAA5s/jL9tUB4z_Rk/s1600/God_Trumps.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/THOi5ihjvWI/AAAAAAAAA5s/jL9tUB4z_Rk/s400/God_Trumps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508925878608051554" /></a>
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Just a quick blog to let you know that <a href="http://blog.newhumanist.org.uk/2010/08/buy-new-humanist-in-shop-near-you.html ">New Humanist is going on sale</a> in selected stores across the UK from 26th August. (It used to be subscription only)
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/THOiDEq83BI/AAAAAAAAA5k/6NKYkdBPq4U/s1600/God+Trumps.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 311px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/THOiDEq83BI/AAAAAAAAA5k/6NKYkdBPq4U/s400/God+Trumps.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508924942881446930" /></a>
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Part one of my God Trumps game (<a href="http://newhumanist.org.uk/1915">http://newhumanist.org.uk/1915</a>) will be free with the current issue, and part two (<a href="http://newhumanist.org.uk/2002">http://newhumanist.org.uk/2002</a>) will be free with the next issue, out in November.
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So if you didn’t get a set of God Trumps the first time round, now is your chance.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-22875899586165567932010-07-18T22:59:00.020+01:002010-07-18T23:44:45.597+01:00Geek Heaven!James's parents are getting their loft insulated - <em>what a corking opening line to a blog that is</em> - and during the clear out, we hit the mother load: A massive haul of James's 1980s Amstrad magazines.
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We've been going through them all evening and here are some of the best bits.
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A super cool 1980s kid:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN6uak1Y1I/AAAAAAAAA0A/tQTu-Lq3beg/s1600/Amstrad2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN6uak1Y1I/AAAAAAAAA0A/tQTu-Lq3beg/s400/Amstrad2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495370908148523858" /></a>
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<em>Turbocharge your CPC...if you dare!</em> Indeed:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7J7DPEYI/AAAAAAAAA0I/8sgRHiFbUBs/s1600/Amstrad3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7J7DPEYI/AAAAAAAAA0I/8sgRHiFbUBs/s400/Amstrad3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495371380722438530" /></a>
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A retro racing game as played by a man called Alan:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7eWFerbI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/rOrYpiRurJI/s1600/Amstrad4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7eWFerbI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/rOrYpiRurJI/s400/Amstrad4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495371731576991154" /></a>
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An Alan Sugar cake:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7zmEx5ZI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/jwb85CiUL1c/s1600/Amstrad5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN7zmEx5ZI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/jwb85CiUL1c/s400/Amstrad5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495372096646276498" /></a>
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And an Alan Sugar game!:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8MB7MgWI/AAAAAAAAA0g/pxFt1xcvmGI/s1600/Amstrad15.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8MB7MgWI/AAAAAAAAA0g/pxFt1xcvmGI/s400/Amstrad15.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495372516439130466" /></a>
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A glimpse of the future:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8Y8cAGkI/AAAAAAAAA0o/zAz5X-gy4M8/s1600/Amstrad6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8Y8cAGkI/AAAAAAAAA0o/zAz5X-gy4M8/s400/Amstrad6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495372738304416322" /></a>
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Some of the excellent titles available - <em>Knight Rider, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Daley Thompson's Super Test</em>:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8op4io9I/AAAAAAAAA0w/OsTRBDOxzxM/s1600/Amstrad7.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN8op4io9I/AAAAAAAAA0w/OsTRBDOxzxM/s400/Amstrad7.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495373008201753554" /></a>
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More Daley Thompson action:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9D3etuzI/AAAAAAAAA04/0qdSGsIbJLQ/s1600/Amstrad8.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9D3etuzI/AAAAAAAAA04/0qdSGsIbJLQ/s400/Amstrad8.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495373475707992882" /></a>
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And some Geoff Capes action too, grr:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9S-sBrAI/AAAAAAAAA1A/ScRNY859w_E/s1600/Amstrad9.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9S-sBrAI/AAAAAAAAA1A/ScRNY859w_E/s400/Amstrad9.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495373735340911618" /></a>
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SLAP FIGHT!:
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9hJxeodI/AAAAAAAAA1I/Cc5W8AvNrHg/s1600/Amstrad10.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9hJxeodI/AAAAAAAAA1I/Cc5W8AvNrHg/s400/Amstrad10.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495373978834739666" /></a>
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Back when Tetris was new:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9vXtqE5I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/xDv1J_fo1mY/s1600/Amstrad12.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9vXtqE5I/AAAAAAAAA1Q/xDv1J_fo1mY/s400/Amstrad12.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495374223094977426" /></a>
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What a cool dude. With his ghetto blaster and walkman:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9-1IlWEI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/zkSWHTBl6cE/s1600/Amstrad13.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN9-1IlWEI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/zkSWHTBl6cE/s400/Amstrad13.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495374488690579522" /></a>
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So, um, yeah:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN-zRgyZnI/AAAAAAAAA1g/DAn0Pv-7u5A/s1600/Amstrad14.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN-zRgyZnI/AAAAAAAAA1g/DAn0Pv-7u5A/s400/Amstrad14.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495375389661488754" /></a>
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My absolute favourite - <em>'Can you handle this much power?' Vroom, pow, blat, zap!:</em>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_EV7NHyI/AAAAAAAAA1o/RGU3km06ACo/s1600/Amstrad16.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_EV7NHyI/AAAAAAAAA1o/RGU3km06ACo/s400/Amstrad16.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495375682903809826" /></a>
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Future Knight!:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_tZ3UiWI/AAAAAAAAA1w/HieEGDTdDg0/s1600/Amstrad17.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_tZ3UiWI/AAAAAAAAA1w/HieEGDTdDg0/s400/Amstrad17.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495376388335896930" /></a>
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Some fun code for you to enter:
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_94Rx16I/AAAAAAAAA14/CmLLxN95iGQ/s1600/Amstrad11.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEN_94Rx16I/AAAAAAAAA14/CmLLxN95iGQ/s400/Amstrad11.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495376671377840034" /></a>
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And finally, arguably the worst game other than <a href="http://www.lemon64.com/?mainurl=http%3A//www.lemon64.com/games/details.php%3FID%3D1678%26developer%3DNick%2520Acton">Mike Reid's Computer Pop Quiz</a>:
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEOARgFNLDI/AAAAAAAAA2A/ezmR0QVBH-0/s1600/Amstrad18.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEOARgFNLDI/AAAAAAAAA2A/ezmR0QVBH-0/s400/Amstrad18.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495377008480037938" /></a>
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Makes me wonder if James and I will be sitting around laughing at our back catalogue of <a href="http://www.next-gen.biz/">Edge magazines</a> in 20 years time. When first person shooters will look like pong, and we'll all definitely look like this. Definitely:
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEODl8laK1I/AAAAAAAAA2I/KKDQeXqCh5s/s1600/Buck.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 327px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TEODl8laK1I/AAAAAAAAA2I/KKDQeXqCh5s/s400/Buck.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495380658263567186" /></a>christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-88897645037617788822010-06-28T15:00:00.003+01:002010-06-28T16:14:14.751+01:00I SAW A GHOST!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TCiq-TRK9yI/AAAAAAAAAzg/JD6IMQs86bo/s1600/Ghost.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 312px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TCiq-TRK9yI/AAAAAAAAAzg/JD6IMQs86bo/s400/Ghost.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5487824133251856162" /></a>
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That got your attention didn’t it?
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Yes, like <em>'Take a Break' </em>and <em>'Pick Me Up' </em>magazine, I am not averse to <a href="http://www.channel4.com/programmes/my-daughter-grew-another-head-and-other/episode-guide/series-1/episode-1 ">using attention grabbing headlines to lure you in</a>.
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...and then disappointing you with a story that doesn’t bear much relation to said headline.
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Although, unlike them, I’ve made the crucial mistake of admitting this upfront and undermining my blog entry before it has even started.
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Darn!
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Kudos to you, <em>'Take a Break' </em>and <em>'Pick Me Up' </em>magazine – it’s not as easy as it looks!
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Well, for those of you who still want to read my ‘ghostly’ yarn, here goes.
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Whilst staying with my parents last weekend I was woken up at 3:30am by a very loud hiss in my right ear.
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I sat bolt upright, looked in the direction of the hiss, and saw what I took to be a person standing next to my bed.
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It looked exactly like the outline of my mum, and my first thought was that she had come into my room to wake me up.
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So I said, “Mum, what is it?”
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The figure didn’t move and continued to just stand there.
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I kept on saying “Mum?...Mum?...Mum?” but nothing. The person just stood there.
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Eventually I got exasperated, and figured that my mum must be sleep walking, so I got up to turn on the light and guide her back to bed.
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I turned on the light and nobody was there.
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Being the rationalist that I am, I promptly ran out of the room and spent the rest of the night in another spare bedroom upstairs <em>(because ghosts can’t climb stairs, obviously)</em>
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I was awake for some time afterwards thinking about what had happened.
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All those stories you hear, about people waking up to see figures at the end of their bed, I’d laughed at those, but now I had apparently joined their ranks – <em>please God don’t let Joe Power be right!</em>
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By morning I was over it and back to the land of logic and reason.
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When you have your 3:30am head on, and everything is dark and silent, it’s easy to get freaked out.
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But in the cold light of day I decided that the noise must have been either in my dreams or from an external source outside the room. And in my sleepy stupor I had seen a shadow, associated it with the noise, and given it form.
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The only thing that I continued to find slightly weird was that by the time I was fully awake and aware the ‘ghost’ was still apparently there, and clear as day, but that’s the power of the mind I guess.
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The reason I am recounting this tale of ostensibly nothing, is that the experience gave me an interesting insight.
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I can now totally understand how it is that people think they have seen a ghost.
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If someone as cynical as me can think they saw one, then someone who is given to believing in the supernatural is going to swear blind they did. Their mind will collude with their tiredness, the shadows in the room and their fear, to create a hallucination, and they, being open to such things, will convince themselves of what they saw.
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When it comes to the unexplained, it’s tempting to fill in the gaps with ghosts, God, fate. <em>(Sorry to any Christians I offend by adding God to that list. If it helps I’ll say Allah as well, for balance, and so I don’t get called politically correct)</em>
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Although having said all this, I <em>was</em> sleeping in the room where that satanic massacre took place, so you never know.
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And so ends my ghostly tale. Don’t have nightmares!christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-67826494354738832692010-06-04T15:11:00.005+01:002020-02-24T23:05:58.174+00:00Going once, going twiceA quick blog to let you know that there's an exhibition and charity auction of <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoons/archive/martinrowson/0,7371,337763,00.html">Martin Rowson</a>'s work being held at the <a href="http://www.meniergallery.co.uk/">Menier Gallery</a> from the 8-12 June.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0XKmlfuhC4/XlRWr2XPc0I/AAAAAAAAJus/rx2FjZm-sWUpSqu1ADX5QILPYEcCAZ9IQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/rowson_invite_email_web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0XKmlfuhC4/XlRWr2XPc0I/AAAAAAAAJus/rx2FjZm-sWUpSqu1ADX5QILPYEcCAZ9IQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/rowson_invite_email_web.jpg" width="163" height="320" data-original-width="768" data-original-height="1506" /></a></div>
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One of the things up for grabs is all of the original artwork for <a href="http://newhumanist.org.uk/1915">my God Trumps</a>:
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M4RDS3AVgWA/XlRWyL2rcoI/AAAAAAAAJuw/7T8vUpSNjhAb3iM35wA_R1wiyxyuaKDRwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/GT.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-M4RDS3AVgWA/XlRWyL2rcoI/AAAAAAAAJuw/7T8vUpSNjhAb3iM35wA_R1wiyxyuaKDRwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/GT.jpg" width="263" height="320" data-original-width="525" data-original-height="640" /></a></div>
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So if you want to get hold of it, pop along to the event.
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I'd quite like it myself, but am not in a position to flash that much cash. So if any rich benefactors are reading this...christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3520635670162825087.post-77649790099741494352010-06-01T16:08:00.004+01:002010-06-01T16:14:40.350+01:00Comment is Free<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TAUie2O3GaI/AAAAAAAAAyo/sYfe2m3GR4g/s1600/computer.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_-p_9rC6UQc0/TAUie2O3GaI/AAAAAAAAAyo/sYfe2m3GR4g/s400/computer.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477822435115342242" /></a>
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A very quick blog to let you know that I’ve had an article published by <a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree">Comment is Free</a>:
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<a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/libertycentral/2010/jun/01/disablist-language-retard">http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/libertycentral/2010/jun/01/disablist-language-retard</a>
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The editors inform me that loads of angry comments = a good piece.
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Accordingly mine must be the best in all of Christendom because it’s anger ahoy over there!
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Still if I’ve achieved one thing today – <em>besides making faceless internet dwellers go postal</em> – it was to bring <a href="http://www.mencap.org.uk/news.asp?id=2355">‘disablism’</a> to people’s attention.
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Many of the posters on the site accused me of being a loony left winger who had made this term up for the purposes of my article.
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The fact that they didn’t know it was an established phrase, <em>much less a reality</em>, is very telling, and underlines exactly why it is so important to have this discussion.christinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17430380041091277441noreply@blogger.com5