Quote: zooo @ 26th December 2013, 9:36 PM GMT
Pah >_< I don't like chemistry. I was up for a scholarship place at a top school, only one place going and I knew more than anyone on it. The first question at the test was 'What is the abbreviation of the element with the atomic number 68?'
'Er' I said knowingly.
For some reason the test suddenly ended and I didn't get to go there or to Cambridge.
Quote: Alfred J Kipper @ 5th January 2014, 11:54 AM GMTPah >_< I don't like chemistry. I was up for a scholarship place at a top school, only one place going and I knew more than anyone on it. The first question at the test was 'What is the abbreviation of the element with the atomic number 68?'
'Er' I said knowingly.
For some reason the test suddenly ended and I didn't get to go there or to Cambridge.
That seems extraordinarily unfair. Unless you were hoping to do a chemistry degree, that is?
Er... 
It's okay it's my fault for ever thinking that joke was funny. Sorry. 
oops! blame my lack of sleep for my lack of humour 
Quote: Alfred J Kipper @ 5th January 2014, 11:54 AM GMTPah >_< I don't like chemistry. I was up for a scholarship place at a top school, only one place going and I knew more than anyone on it. The first question at the test was 'What is the abbreviation of the element with the atomic number 68?'
'Er' I said knowingly.
For some reason the test suddenly ended and I didn't get to go there or to Cambridge.
good joke, maybe shorten the end a bit.
Thoroughly enjoying the Morrissey autobiography. Love his digs and sarcastic comments at all those around him.
Penguin Classics are publishing the entire series (75) of Maigret novels in new translations, one a month.
This (January's) is the third.
Got sent one for Christmas from them. Will read it next.
High Rise by JG Ballard.
About time I got round to this. I once used this book to identify me for a blind date a few years back!
that is fantastic
Ian Rankin. Working my way through the Rebus books.
Quote: KLRiley @ 11th January 2014, 8:06 PM GMTIam Rankin. Working my way through the beats.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iD_qZ3hTDo
booyakashah
Ambling through the Billy Bunter series. There are some tired tropes (Bunter snoops tuck. Bunter lazing behind a tree overhears vital information. A tramp attacks Quelch. The wrong schoolboy faces expulsion until Bunter saves the day.). And Quelch's "gimlet eyes" are wearing a bit thin. Yet the addiction cannot be denied, and two of these books have elicited mirth - something that never happened with Malory Towers. The liberal use of classical references, Latin and archaic words are also stimulating.
Billy Bunter Comes for Christmas: Has to be one of the weakest yet. Plotted like something Enid Blyton would have written on a bad day at age 12 and chucked on the fire.
Bunter Keeps It Dark: Just when these books get a mite tedious, along comes a surprise. This adventure sees the fat Owl of the Remove wearing blackface for most of the action - part of a ruse to avoid working as a grocery store clerk. A feast of racial epithets. Quelch's rival Prout (master of the Fifth) provides the comedy.
Bunter Does His Best: A schoolboy soccer soap opera. Altercations in the football team cause a mass walkout, resulting in Bunter being recruited for a match and he's predictably useless. The star of this book is the Bounder (aka Herbert Vernon-Smith, pronounced 'Smithy').
Bunter the Bad Lad: Much ado about Horace Coker of the Fifth. He is a wonderful character - a complete c**t - exactly like a fellow who was a form above me at school. A surprisingly gelogenic read. Highlight is an argument between Quelch and Prout over whether the 29th line in the first ode of the first book of Horace begins with 'te' or 'me'.
I am surprising myself by enjoying the Count Arthur Strong Biography.
Quote: Will Cam @ 3rd January 2014, 2:25 PM GMTI liked his music but there came a point last year when he was calling for the royals to be killed or something where I made a conscious decision that he was just to much of a self-important twat to like on any level. The fact that he insisted on his autobiography being published as a Penguin Classic just reinforces matters.
Morrissey is now so far up his own arse that apparently he can only be interviewed with the help of a speculum and a torch...
