Posts by Stephen Judd
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They certainly don't feature in the lyrics of many songs of note.
Hasn't Marcus Turner posted here from time to time? You haven't lived until you've heard The Ballad of Fergie McCormick.
Lyrics from Marcus' site here.
The Ballad of Fergie McCormick.
Lyrics and Music © Marcus TurnerNow, Fergie McCormick was walking one day,
When he noticed a building on fire.
The screams of a woman could plainly be heard
Through the flames, as they soared ever higher.
The trembling lady was clutching a baby.
The building was ten stories high.
It could plainly be seen that both she and the child
Were most certainly doomed for to die.
Now, the firemen were there, with their ropes and their ladders
And holding a big trampoline.
Though they tried to enourage the lady to jump,
She was, patently, not very keen
For, the babe was too small to survive such a fall.
And so, she refused to let go.
What could they do? They were right in the stew
As they helplessly gazed from below.
The up stepped the hero. “'Tis Fergie McCormick,” he cried. “Throw your baby to me!”
“Fear not: I will catch it! From death, I shall snatch it,
And save in my arms it will be.”
Now, the big fullback's arms and his masculine charms
Allayed all the young mother's fears.
She cried “Bless you Fergie!”.
Then tossed her child over the edge, as her eyes filled with tears.
Now, the rest of this story will long be remembered
In legend throughout all the land.
For there, on the ground, as the crowd gathered round
The wee babe landed safe in his hands!
“He's rescued the child!” said the crowd, going wild.
The excitement was plainly too much.
As they all stared in wonder, with a swift up-and-under
He kicked forty metres for touch. -
Major C. H. Douglas was convinced of an international jewish banking conspiracy (ahead of his time perhaps).
what
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benevolent elders wearing white Grecian tunics
As opposed to malevolent elders wearing Grecian 2000 :D
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Interesting NYT article.
I've got to say that if the punishment at Eton for being caught smoking dope is merely "copying 500 lines of Latin" then perhaps we could relax here in the Antipodes a bit.
Do like the NYT's unselfconscious reference to "England's ruling classes." Perhaps they could do a feature on the US ruling class some time.
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Arseless chaps? Surely chaps with arses are simply trousers.
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Having grown up as a nudist I can say you are wrong Emma. I've seen some disturbingly non-proportional instances.
Growers and showers. Like helmets and anteaters, but different.
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I love Morgue's take on this. It is too good not to reproduce IN FULL.
Clegg’s Choice as Fighting Fantasy
Finally! After so many battles you have reached the final chamber. Here, your quest will end. Wiping off the last of the Bloodbeast’s ichor from your tunic, you climb the stairs and open the door.
Inside there are two foul monsters. They are both grossly obese, and stand glaring at each other. Between them is a comfortable settee, and they clearly both wish to sit down in it, but they are too large to share.
“Ah!” cry the monsters in unison. “You are here, puny human. Now, you must choose. Which of us will you join on the settee?”
The first monster, stinking and covered with scuttling vermin, grins to show unbrushed teeth. “If you choose me, I’ll roll all over you until you’re good and filthy, and then I’ll gnaw on you a bit, and then I’ll crush you underneath me until you almost drown in my juices.”
“But I’ll also order that a new settee be made, and once it is ready, you’ll have your own place to sit ever after.”
The second monster, with lifeless shark’s eyes and rows of thin teeth, spread its arms. “If you choose me, I’ll shuffle over to give you as much room on the settee as possible. Not only that, I’ll let you use the remote control at least once a day.”
“Of course, next week I’ll bite your head off and swallow it whole.”
Your entire adventure comes down to this fateful choice! What will you do?
If you attack the stinking monster, turn to 275
If you attack the shark’s eyes monster, turn to 360 -
Bart, listen to the interview in NZ - the guy keeps saying "Gew-man" in his NZ accent - the interviewer - being a NZer - does not pronounce the "R" sound.
The technical terms are "rhotic" and "non-rhotic".
That was the very first thing I thought when I heard about Bieber's otherwise inexplicable lapse, too. I have first-hand experience of rhotic North Americans being unable to cope with such mundane words as "here" or "water" when spoken without an R. I can't think of any examples of incomprehension going the other way but then we hear rhotic accents all the time via film and television and popular music, whereas non-rhotic ones are genuinely rare in North America.
I expect the Dalzielian muse could make something of "err-rhotic" but I'm not up to the task...
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Perhaps we can all be cheered up by reports of strange goings-on at the BNP.
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Thinking about it, PR pretty much starts with Edwards Bernays making cigarettes acceptable, and PR and tobacco have been in love ever since. And Goebbels actually used Bernays' book Crystallizing Public Opinion in creating his propaganda strategy. 'Cause the state needs PR too.
There, do I win the tie-it-all-together prize?