Waste

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Train

The Worst Journey Of My Life.

About three weeks ago, the plan was this :
Take the train to Sheffield, look around during the University open day, then take the train back.
Easy!

Act I - The First Train Journey.

It all went well until we got half way there. We stopped.

After perhaps twenty minutes, something came through the speakers.

“This is your driver for today speaking, folks. I’m afraid I don’t know why we’re not moving, but I’ll try and find out soon.”

HOW CAN YOU POSSIBLY NOT KNOW? IT’S YOUR DAMN TRAIN.

Then another thirty minutes pass, until suddenly a frantic-sounding driver crackles on the intercom thing.

“Sorry folks, but this train, er, isn’t moving. There’s another train outside which will take you the last step of your journey, but it’s leaving in a few seconds!”

This is 100% true.

There was a brief pause while this information filtered down, and then a mad rush as people grabbed bags, stuffed coffee cups into pockets, closed laptops, rammed on hats and sprinted across the pebbles towards the other train. Literally ten seconds after we got on, the doors shut and it slid out of the station. Incredible.

We finally then make it to Sheffield, and go into the main hall. There, we see a dozen paintings of ex-teachers, all holding scrolls and staring at the painter with a look of either intense concentration or chronic constipation. Hours later, we head out onto the street to get back to the train station…

Act II - The Tram.

Let me relay this with total, total clarity.
We're waiting for the tram after the open day in Sheffield. Someone who looks like they fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down approaches us, brandishing some kind of clicky box with a handle. After a brief discussion, it turns out this apparition will give us tickets for the tram.
Now, this tram stop has two sides and two sets of raily things. Therefore, surely two different trams come through here, right?
We ask her, in clear English, standing on the left side of the station - "Does this tram take us to the train station?"
She answers, "Yes."
Funnily enough, we thought this might be accurate, seeing as SHE WAS ONE OF THE DAMN TRAM PEOPLE (I call them Trammies).
A few minutes later, tram pulls up, we get on, and it trundles off.

Now, thirty minutes go past. We go past lots and lots of stops, but not a single one looks like a train station, or has any kind of trainy sense to it. We notice our Trammie making her way back through the pedestrian throng and I ask her a question.
"This is the tram for the train station, right?"
This was one of those moments where the world holds its breath. Either my faith in the incompetent people of Sheffield will be rewarded, she'll reply affirmatively, and the next stop will be the train station. Alternatively, this might happen:
"No. That's the other tram, the blue line. You're on the orange line."
WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL US THAT BEFORE WE PAID FOR OUR TICKET AND GOT ON YOUR FUCKING TRAM YOU STUPID INCOMPETENT SOW?
So we miss our train and have to get one two hours later. But there was more pain to come...

Act III - Why Other People Should Not Be Allowed Out Of Their Houses

So, two hours later, we get on the train that is supposed to head back. In the seat opposite me, a man sits down. He is perhaps thirty years old, wearing the least fashionable clothes I have ever seen combined on one person, and with his shirt tucked into his trousers and his trousers pulled up around nipple height. Additionally, his top teeth hang over his bottom lip, giving him an impression of dangerous inbreeding.

But okay, I guess such people must logically exist to balance out averages – for every incredibly beautiful person, there must be a…one of these. Anyway, about three minutes into the train moving out of the station, this man – at least 30 years old – sticks his finger straight up a nostril to the knuckle. He then proceeds to rummage around inside, perhaps searching for whatever happened to his self-esteem.

Worse, he then takes it out of his nose, critically inspects the contents, wipes it on his sleeve, and continues to hum a tune.

Later, a woman sits down to me with the girth of a small planet. I genuinely have to shrink myself into the wall to avoid being crushed, and for someone my height that's no easy task. What made it worse was that this woman seemed to think she wasn't using up enough of her damn chair - and enough of mine - and over a period of the next hour wobbled closer and closer to me.

I hate society.

Act IV - The Second Train Journey.

We get to Birmingham – I think. Or somewhere similar. Anyway, the train stops in a siding for half an hour, and nobody can work out why the train isn’t moving. Eventually, there’s a bing-bong and the train driver starts talking.

“We’re sorry ladies and gentlemen, but because British Rail are staggeringly incompetent, we have to now go on a two hour diversion. Sorry about this.”

The entire carriage groans. Various people get off, curse, scream, explode, combust, or die. One person even mutters “We’ll see about that…” and storms in the direction of the driving carriage (what is this called?).

Thirty minutes later – “Actually, we’re NOT being diverted, but you do have to wait another hour. HA!”

Eventually we get home.

It was hellish.

I am never using public transport again in my entire life.

Notes :

Note 1 :

This was on an internet forum about Bioshock.

Originally posted by: manowar821

Originally posted by: Regs

[ **Important Note: Game requires Internet connection for activation** ]

God dammit!

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT TO SHIT HELL!!!!!

How can someone possibly complain about something that requires internet activation, while being on the damn internet? Such people astound me.

Note 2 :

I cashed in another 2700 freeroll (poker tourney), finishing 23^rd this time. However, this time it was HORSE. It’s a mixed game, which plays ten hands of Holdem, ten hands of Omaha, ten hands of Razz, ten hands of Stud, then ten hands of Stud Eight. That means every ten hands you have to change what you’re doing and totally alter your strategy. Considerably more interesting.

Although, one curiosity – No-Limit Holdem is obviously my best game, yet I don’t seem that good at Limit Holdem. Strange.

Since then, I’ve also come 35^th, and in the top 200 twice more.

Oh, and yesterday I played two nine-person tournaments at the same time and won them both. That was nice too.

Note 3 :

There is no note 4, but note 3 is a lie.

Note 4 :

Note 3 tells the truth, but this note is a lie.

LEMONMAN

Just like Fry -

ARGH! IMAGE HOSTED BY TRIPOD. NEW IMAGE SOON. [Picture of Fry from Futurama screaming]


- I am now at my wit's end trying to think of something funny to put on the blog. Well, that's not totally true. I have five topics, but none of them are particularly AMUSING. Which is the damned problem!
Wait, I know! SHEFFIELD! I CAN SCREAM ABOUT SHEFFIELD!
Expect that tomorrow.

However, unlike Fry, I am not my own grandfather, and nor did I once invade my own brain using a smaller copy of myself.

Return

Another Stupid Conversation.

Jabberwacky: Who are you?

User: I'm Tom.

Jabberwacky: Tom?

User: Yes. I've been helping Mark with the blog.

Jabberwacky: Thanks.

User: I assume you think the return of the blog will be successful then?

Jabberwacky: Yes.

User: Good on you.

Jabberwacky: Thanks.

User: Are you going to make this entry any more interesting?

Jabberwacky: No.

User: Oh.

---------------------

Russell T Davies Fucks Up Doctor Who

Part II

Russell T Davies sat in the board room, brooding. Around him were posters from all the stupid shitty soaps he watched daily in order to get ideas to transplant into Doctor Who like a cancerous gene of death. His closest toadying lackeys sat nearby.
He had been pleased by the increased ratings from the final episode. Even though the tiny Doctor-bird thing was a pile of nonsense and he’d killed off the Master, people seemed to like it. Even he couldn’t fathom how, and he was the one who’d spawned that horrendous miscarriage of fiction. Nevertheless, now that Martha was randomly trundling off to Torchwood, they had to have another assistant.
Russell T Davies dragged over a barrel.
“Listen up people!” he shouted. “We’ve already emptied the barrel, and this last series we scraped the bottom of the barrel with that trash about the Dalek-human hybrid. Tonight, we must check underneath the barrel!”
There was a shocked intake of breath from the assembled assholes. Surely Russell T Davies couldn’t mean bringing her back?
“But…” whispered one. “You can’t do that. She’s talentless. She’s unfunny. She looks like someone who fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down!”
“Silence!” Russell T Davies screamed, producing a screwdriver. Carefully, he began to lever off the bottom of the barrel. It came apart with a creak of tortured metal, and he peered into the depths beneath. He raised his hand back out, carrying a card. It was filthy, and merely looking at it made several of his morons sick. On it were written the words:

Catherine Tate

• Anti-Humour
• Filling in for far better actors
• Clod

He points to the phone. “Better give her a ring. She’s our new assistant.”

Legacy

With our new and wholly illegal, undemocratic and unelected Prime Minster ruling our country for the foreseeable future, it seems appropriate that we recap the greatest moments of our previous No. 10 incumbent, who himself was elected by a mere 28% of the population.

Cash for Honours

During his reign, our great leader continued the age-old tradition of sleaze. This begun with the Conservative Party in the lead-up to Blair’s first victory and continued when Blair brought New Labour (otherwise known as the Conservatives) into power. Realising the best way to earn funding was to give out titles that once actually meant something, he brilliantly starting giving peerages to those who donated vast sums of money to the party. This brought in many donations from those desperate for the red robes of office that Blair promised those with more money than morals.

In addition to this stunning piece of economic management, the Labour party also received a £1m donation from Bernie Ecclestone, the Formula One mogul. Not just content with leading the third most boring sport on Earth, he donated this money in order to ensure that he could continue to advertise cigarettes. Even though this donation had to be given back, it was clear from the start that this was a new government, and one determined to use all their wit and cunning to circumvent the political process.

The War in Iraq

Tony Blair and his government continued their legal tour de force when they invaded a country half way across the world unprovoked that posed no possible threat to us or any of our allies. Even though we knew that they didn’t have weapons, couldn’t have weapons, and even if they did couldn’t hit us with them, we still decided that it would be a good idea.

With the encouragement of our friends across the Atlantic who realised that oil should be valued considerably above human lives, we invaded and have now participated in the murder of a million people.

But all this pales.

Because.

The world has gone mad. A cog has fallen out of the mechanisms of reality. A wire has snapped and frayed in the databanks of life. Etc.

Tony Blair has been appointed as an envoy for peace in the Middle East. That’s like appointing Thatcher peace envoy for the miners. Hitler is now peace envoy for non-Aryans. Mao is now peace envoy for Chinese intellectuals. I am now peace envoy for people I really hate. I think you get the idea.

BAE

The icing on this Labour government’s cake of criminals would be the recent BAE scandal, where we apparently bribed the Saudi government in order to give us arms deals. Naturally, this combines the two greatest features of this government – weapons AND monetary scandal! This has now been discontinued because of “issues of national security” – or, to put it another way, Blair doesn’t want to be interrupted while doing the lecture circuit in the US. What a foul man.

Our New Great Leader

So now, Gordon Brown is our Prime Minister. Even those who voted Labour didn't vote for him, so it could easily be argued that not a single person in the entire country voted for him as PM. Hooray for democracy!

Chetz

Celebrities Consider: The Entertainment Industry

Bruce Willis on The Entertainment Industry

Well, as you will know I've been branching out lately, away from the action hero role. It was a nice break from killing the scum of the world (Arabs, Germans and Arabs and Germans played by Brits), however, I'll be returning home soon for the action packed spectacular that is Live Free, Die Hard - or Die Hard 4.0, for the MySpace Intarweb Generation. Critics accuse it of having a blindly patriotic name, that wont appeal to people outside the US. Screw them. They can take their low-tech trash elsewhere while my guns and bald head crush all.
And besides, have you seen the trailer? I dodge a taxi - flying at my head! Yeah, take that England and your stupid Alan Rickman.



Gillian McKeith on The Entertainment Industry

The Entertainment Industry is evil, it's been feeding the world the idea of obesity. All these films where the star takes a bite of a burger without looking at the nutrional value or ingredients. Do they know how much fat they are taking in? It sets a terrible example to the youth. No wonder they suck so much. Sitting there at home, surfing the net- such a cess pool. Mind you, I did get my degree from there, so its not all bad I guess. So it clearly can recognise talent when it finds it.
Watch "You Are What You Eat."



Disgruntled Alien on The Entertainment Industry

WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? *wails* What did we do? All you ever do is kill us. TV, Games, Film, you hate us. We're NICE aliens. Why do you think we always want to take over your galaxy - five galaxies is enough! Sure, we wiped out all the races in those, but... they had it coming. They were... odd. Wrong. Yes, wrong. And besides, Independence Day. They zapped the White House. SURELY they were doing you a favour. And you repay them by blowing up their ship. How many millions of lives did you kill by doing that. You sick, sick people. Mass murdering freaks, get away from me!
And then of course Rowan. The horrid man wants to convert us to his religion. Why can you not content yourself with Earth? You are the true monsters! Your media simply confirms it. We'll have to destroy you, for your own good. Like in the recent Doctor Who with the orbs and whatnot.



Rowan Williams on The Entertainment Industry

The current state of depravation prevalent in modern society is directly proportional to the decreasing moral responsiblity accepted by the information presentation mediums of today. Rupert Murdoch is somewhat culpable, endowing these phillistines with the economic aid requisite to producing such crap. It's also with a deep heart and in a saddened society that I comment on the lack of religious content present in the "media". While glorious scripture remains dominated by our illustrious Bible, the same cannot be said of the entertainment industry. We need more Thought for the Day. It should last all day, everyday. And when I finally contruct my Intergalatic Church TM, I will be able to broadcast it straight into your minds! Mwa ha ha ha!



Hilary Clinton on The Entertainment Industry

Hilary for 2008. How could I get that message across without the wonders of the internet, TV, film, radio and other such stuff? Of course though, it is responsible for all gun crime. It brainwashes our kids into mindless killers, thirstly for the blood of innocents. Why else would gun crime be so excessive, and be on the increase in the Semi-autonomous state of England, where our media is filtering through and dirtying their traditional values with the filth of American society. This country sucks ass, and if you want the USA to change, you have to vote for me, you worthless incompetents. My husband may have been a blundering fool, but let me assure you, I'll lead with an iron fist, crushing all those who... I'll be nice. Games, however, must be banned, before they cause society to stagnate and collapse into a pile of violent prostitute murderers and random Gratuitous Violence Bonuses. Or possibly Boni.

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In other news, the blog will speed up once summer begins and I'm no longer quite so concerned by schoolio work. There will be a film-related one later in the week, in addition to possibly another Doctor Who paroby. We'll see.

LAANANNNNn