Um.... Britney, I saw her live and yes she doesn't sing live, but my god how she used to dance it is A-MA-ZING. Christina has the better voice but over sings when she;s live, it's like when you open a gift that is surrounded by Styrofoam.
Thursday, 23 December 2010
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
What was your goal for 2010, and how did you get on?
Quit smoking. *lights up another one* I failed.
What's your resolution for 2011? Why did you pick that, and why's it important to you?
Lose weight, just because the beer belly is annoying me now.
If you could make one celebrity vanish from the public eye in 2011 so you never had to hear anything about them again, which little fucker would you choose?
The Kardashians (they only have enough personality and talent between them to barely make one person so they still count)
Which country would you *least* like to visit, and why?
Any african country or very strict middle eastern ones, I'd get far too nervous about being a homosexualist.
What's the best thing about your home town (the town you grew up in), and do you still live there? If so, would you ever leave?
My friends. And I would leave, cos they're not going to be here all the time are they?
Can you think of a single valid reason for not declaring war on Wales?
It would take effort. And we already hold power over them anyway really.
Wayne Rooney reportedly earns £250,000 a week - do you think there should be limits on what sports stars are paid, or is it none of our business what private companies pay their staff?
They get paid a stupid, stupid amount, and I think that kind of money should go to someone who actually does something helpful. But they are a private company, so life's just a bitch.
Can you think of a single valid reason for not declaring war on whales?
Just because they are just aquatic beings that have never harmed me I guess.
What's the most you'd pay for the following things: a haircut/a pair of shoes/a month's rent/an aftershave/a concert ticket?
haircut: £50 if it included an amazing dye job as well. pair of shoes= £40. a months rent = well it would depend on my financial circumstances. an aftershave =£15 a concert ticket =£60
First Draft of First Chapter of a New Story
Just started this today, this is the first draft of the opening chapter, and I just wanted to see what people thought of it. I'm worried that I rush descriptions too much, I was kind of writing this whilst planning the story arc (weirdly the character I meant to be the main character has been demoted within that process because I found another character far more interesting.
Anyway, here it is:
Anyway, here it is:
Chapter One
A Ferry Crossing
A Ferry Crossing
The rain was falling that night, caught somewhere between a drizzle and a full-on downpour as the ferry made its way across the dark water of the river.
Illuminated by torches strung from either side of the decking the small boat drifted with not so much as a splash through the light mist and the silvery reflections of the moon. There were a few clouds dispensing the moisture within the air, but not as many as the weather shamans had predicted, who had testified that this year’s harvest could be ruined by the onslaught of rain that was to fall.
This year’s summer had been a hot one, but had been punctuated with heavy rain and all the farmers were hoping for a good crop this year, as they had done the year before and the years before that.
Illuminated by torches strung from either side of the decking the small boat drifted with not so much as a splash through the light mist and the silvery reflections of the moon. There were a few clouds dispensing the moisture within the air, but not as many as the weather shamans had predicted, who had testified that this year’s harvest could be ruined by the onslaught of rain that was to fall.
This year’s summer had been a hot one, but had been punctuated with heavy rain and all the farmers were hoping for a good crop this year, as they had done the year before and the years before that.
As the Captain steered the ferry in the direction of the next guiding lamp with his sea-salt cracked hands from his days in the Navy he looked around at the strange assembly of characters upon his deck. There, sitting on a step just next to him was Ala’Karim, a famed alchemist from the land of Mantazarin which sat midway across the globe, where the locals wore strange headwear made of linen, carried curved swords and spent their days counting numbers, mixing potions and, rumour had it, trying to disprove the idea of ‘God’. Such a thing was blasphemy of course in the Captain’s mind, and he sneered slightly as he gazed upon the large blue turban sitting upon the man’s large, round bearded face. His clothes were made of what seemed to be fine silk and probably cost more than what the Captain had made in his lifetime. Ala’Karim’s fingers were adorned with huge gold rings, the ones on his left hand interlinked as though webbing upon his fingers. At his waist was a stumpy curved sword, which the Captain recognized as being a scimitar from his days fighting fleets of pirates off the coasts of Mantazarin, and upon the foreign man’s feet were shoes that curled up at the toes and were an amazing flash of orange and red, though were stained with grey from the cigar he had been puffing on when he stepped onto the ferry the other side of the river. When he had spoken his accent had been thick and strange, as though the Captain’s ears had been held in a barrel of treacle.
Sat next to the alchemist was his assistant Jahide, a scrawny young boy who couldn’t be more that fourteen years of age. Jahide was as dark skinned as Ala’Karim, but his eyes were sunken and he seemed to have a look of constant anxiety about him. He carried the bags (of which there were no less than six, two of which were almost as big as the boy himself). He currently sat upon one of the large bags, with the other resting upright which he was using as a pillow as he lounged with his tatty cloak pulled over him to guard against the cold rain. Other assorted bags were at his feet, but it was the box that hung by a shoulder strap that intrigued the Captain; it was made of an orange metal and even though it was only the size of a closed fist it had impressed black locks running along every edge yet no keyhole. No doubt there had to be magic involved, thought the Captain, frowning as he remembered the times the Navy would bring the Hydro Sorcerers onto the ships in case of bad weather, as though they weren’t a bad omen in themselves.
Across the other side of the boat, standing next to Jerry, the only other member of crew upon the ferry, was the young Initiate Peter. The Captain knew him well for they were related through marriage; his daughter Poppy has married Peter’s eldest brother Maurice who was the leader of the Watch in the town. Peter had his back turned to the alchemist, as it was known by the Clergy that an alchemist could cause your mind to become intoxicated with a long stare. His hood was drawn up over his head and his hands were stretched out in front of him upon the railing and every so often the Captain heard some muffled retches. The Captain shook his head; Peter was the runt of the litter in his opinion, with his tiny frame, his wispy ginger hair already deserting his head even though he was only into his twentieth year and his sea sickness. Thank God Poppy had married the strapping, rich and sensible Marcus instead of this brown robed nobody who couldn’t even climb up the Clerical ladder despite having been an Initiate since his fifteenth birthday.
Further down from the sad figure of Peter was a young boy dressed in tatty rags and who was just sitting on the decking in front of the bow of the ship where he had immediately sat as soon as he boarded the ferry, staring forwards silently as though willing the boat to go faster so he could get to the other side, or, get away from the previous side. He had no hood and his curly shoulder length blonde hair was drenched and blew around his head in matted clumps. Laid next to him was a small knapsack and a shepherd’s crook. The Captain had seen many a young herdsman on his ferry over the years, usually trying to make it in the city as a groundsman for the wealthier families or just as runaways from cruel masters. Though which this young boy was doing the Captain couldn’t guess.
Sat next to the alchemist was his assistant Jahide, a scrawny young boy who couldn’t be more that fourteen years of age. Jahide was as dark skinned as Ala’Karim, but his eyes were sunken and he seemed to have a look of constant anxiety about him. He carried the bags (of which there were no less than six, two of which were almost as big as the boy himself). He currently sat upon one of the large bags, with the other resting upright which he was using as a pillow as he lounged with his tatty cloak pulled over him to guard against the cold rain. Other assorted bags were at his feet, but it was the box that hung by a shoulder strap that intrigued the Captain; it was made of an orange metal and even though it was only the size of a closed fist it had impressed black locks running along every edge yet no keyhole. No doubt there had to be magic involved, thought the Captain, frowning as he remembered the times the Navy would bring the Hydro Sorcerers onto the ships in case of bad weather, as though they weren’t a bad omen in themselves.
Across the other side of the boat, standing next to Jerry, the only other member of crew upon the ferry, was the young Initiate Peter. The Captain knew him well for they were related through marriage; his daughter Poppy has married Peter’s eldest brother Maurice who was the leader of the Watch in the town. Peter had his back turned to the alchemist, as it was known by the Clergy that an alchemist could cause your mind to become intoxicated with a long stare. His hood was drawn up over his head and his hands were stretched out in front of him upon the railing and every so often the Captain heard some muffled retches. The Captain shook his head; Peter was the runt of the litter in his opinion, with his tiny frame, his wispy ginger hair already deserting his head even though he was only into his twentieth year and his sea sickness. Thank God Poppy had married the strapping, rich and sensible Marcus instead of this brown robed nobody who couldn’t even climb up the Clerical ladder despite having been an Initiate since his fifteenth birthday.
Further down from the sad figure of Peter was a young boy dressed in tatty rags and who was just sitting on the decking in front of the bow of the ship where he had immediately sat as soon as he boarded the ferry, staring forwards silently as though willing the boat to go faster so he could get to the other side, or, get away from the previous side. He had no hood and his curly shoulder length blonde hair was drenched and blew around his head in matted clumps. Laid next to him was a small knapsack and a shepherd’s crook. The Captain had seen many a young herdsman on his ferry over the years, usually trying to make it in the city as a groundsman for the wealthier families or just as runaways from cruel masters. Though which this young boy was doing the Captain couldn’t guess.
As the ferry passed the last guiding light Jerry began ringing the bell for the docksman to hear. Through the mist cam a bell back, and through the ghostly sheen of mist and rain the lights of the city in front started to come into view.
Casglave wasn’t the biggest city, but it was certainly a busy one, sitting alongside the river Glave the city had massive farmlands around it in almost every direction. The main city bustled with life from the small port upon the river, where fishermen and merchants came to sell goods and food, and where the boatyards busted with the production of pleasure boats for the wealthy or small fishing boat fleets for the fishmongers. In the centre of the city was the Church of His Holy Father, where the inhabitants flocked to every Sunday and even for some, several times a week. Surrounding the church was the Merchant’s Plaza, where there were stores for fabrics, paintings, carpentry and everything a person could need.
North of the Merchant’s Plaza was were the rich and successful folk of Casglave lived, the Mayor Samuel Lystor and his wife Charlotte occupied the massive white fronted mansion that connected to the City Hall and the members of the Privy Council lived in the surrounding houses, all made of white stone with pillars and spectacular engravings of justice and religious symbols.
The eastern and western areas of the city were filled with long terraces of houses, taverns and yet more shops with more modest prices. In the eastern district stood the imposing Watchman Tower around which the large brownstone jail wrapped in a half crescent. Opposite the Tower was Marcus and Poppy’s home, a large three story building crafted from wood and stone and topped with an old thatch roof.
The Captain smiled as the boat sidled up to the jetty and the strange ensemble of passengers started to stand and ready their belongings. Ala’Karim struck a match and lit another cigar as he watched Jahide swing the two massive bags onto his back and secure the smaller bags around his waist. As Jerry threw the mooring ropes to the docksman on the jetty Peter still stood by the railings his knuckles white and his face, which had turned slightly towards the Captain, was tinged with green. The young herdsman at the bow of the ferry was now standing, leaning over the railing, seemingly trying to take in all the sights, smells and sound of the port in at once. It was a few moments after Ala’Karim had managed to clamber down onto the jetty with Jahide in tow that the young boy turned round and ran for the plank down to the jetty, almost slipping on the wet deck in his haste, his shepherd’s crook in one hand and his knapsack thrown over his shoulder.
As the Captain started extinguishing his lanterns and torches for this had had been his last trip of the day, Peter finally let go of the railing and stumbled towards the gangplank, hiccoughing and clasping his hand over his mouth. As he reached the jetty he gave one last big retch and vomited into the water much to the amusement of the young boys unloading a merchant’s boats on the next jetty over. With their leers and shouts behind him Peter staggered down the jetty and soon disappeared into the crowd.
The Captain extinguished the last torch at the bow of the ship and exchanged a glance with Jerry, before departing the ferry himself and heading off through the drizzle home to his wife and hopefully a big bowl of venison broth.
Casglave wasn’t the biggest city, but it was certainly a busy one, sitting alongside the river Glave the city had massive farmlands around it in almost every direction. The main city bustled with life from the small port upon the river, where fishermen and merchants came to sell goods and food, and where the boatyards busted with the production of pleasure boats for the wealthy or small fishing boat fleets for the fishmongers. In the centre of the city was the Church of His Holy Father, where the inhabitants flocked to every Sunday and even for some, several times a week. Surrounding the church was the Merchant’s Plaza, where there were stores for fabrics, paintings, carpentry and everything a person could need.
North of the Merchant’s Plaza was were the rich and successful folk of Casglave lived, the Mayor Samuel Lystor and his wife Charlotte occupied the massive white fronted mansion that connected to the City Hall and the members of the Privy Council lived in the surrounding houses, all made of white stone with pillars and spectacular engravings of justice and religious symbols.
The eastern and western areas of the city were filled with long terraces of houses, taverns and yet more shops with more modest prices. In the eastern district stood the imposing Watchman Tower around which the large brownstone jail wrapped in a half crescent. Opposite the Tower was Marcus and Poppy’s home, a large three story building crafted from wood and stone and topped with an old thatch roof.
The Captain smiled as the boat sidled up to the jetty and the strange ensemble of passengers started to stand and ready their belongings. Ala’Karim struck a match and lit another cigar as he watched Jahide swing the two massive bags onto his back and secure the smaller bags around his waist. As Jerry threw the mooring ropes to the docksman on the jetty Peter still stood by the railings his knuckles white and his face, which had turned slightly towards the Captain, was tinged with green. The young herdsman at the bow of the ferry was now standing, leaning over the railing, seemingly trying to take in all the sights, smells and sound of the port in at once. It was a few moments after Ala’Karim had managed to clamber down onto the jetty with Jahide in tow that the young boy turned round and ran for the plank down to the jetty, almost slipping on the wet deck in his haste, his shepherd’s crook in one hand and his knapsack thrown over his shoulder.
As the Captain started extinguishing his lanterns and torches for this had had been his last trip of the day, Peter finally let go of the railing and stumbled towards the gangplank, hiccoughing and clasping his hand over his mouth. As he reached the jetty he gave one last big retch and vomited into the water much to the amusement of the young boys unloading a merchant’s boats on the next jetty over. With their leers and shouts behind him Peter staggered down the jetty and soon disappeared into the crowd.
The Captain extinguished the last torch at the bow of the ship and exchanged a glance with Jerry, before departing the ferry himself and heading off through the drizzle home to his wife and hopefully a big bowl of venison broth.
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
You are king of the world for the next few minutes. Enact 3 laws that will benefit mankind.
1) I get a premiership footballers wage, FOR LIFE. 2) Contraceptives are handed out by every single annoying charity person on the high streets - they might as well be handy and 3) All men hotter than me must either be exactly what i look for personality wise, or they must follow me around all the time and do my bidding. Yes, these all benefit mankind. And if I was King of the World, I'd get more than 3 laws through, like bringing back capital punishment, castrating paedophiles and making every-one who is bigoted put in a dark room with lots of shin high objects.
If you could date any celebrity, who would it be?
Well, either Lady GaGa, Rupert Grint, Tom Hardy or quite a few others to be honest. I'm not that picky.
Where would you like to spend your retirement?
Get twatted every day in some lovely country with a brilliant all year round climate.
If you could be on one TV show which one would it be?
Brothers and Sisters, Sex and the City, Modern Family,.... Out of the three probably Bros &Sis', as Justin's boyfriend once he realises he should be gay and with me.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
What are your thoughts on porridge? Yay? Nay? Meh? WTF?
Meh, I don't really ever eat breakfast so I don't usually get a chance to eat it, I used to like it as a kid, but I dunno... I class it as a cereal and I don't like cereals lol. I'd rather just have some bacon.
Thursday, 2 December 2010
Two/three questions in one: What profession do you most and least admire? And what profession would you most like to enter other than the one you do or for which you're studying?
I most admire the professions where people who earn the biggest amounts of money and selflessly realise they don';t need that much money and give a massive, massive amount of it back - Bill Gates and Steve Wozniack (or however you spell his name) are prime examples of mega rich, mega-giving people.
Is there one television channel you find yourself watching more than any other? IOf so, which?
Probably BBC One just cos I LOVE Never Mind The Buzzcocks and Have I Got News for You and QI. But if Modern Family and Brothers and Sisters are on the same channel, that's what i watch as well
Have you ever practiced winning an Oscar speech in the mirror?
No, but I have practised winning an oscar/Grammy/VMA/brit etc award in my mind many a time
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