011000100110100101101110011000010111001001111001

0100100001100101011011000110110001101111001011100010000001001001001001110110110100100000011101100110010101110010011110010010000001110011011011110111001001110010011110010010000001110100011011110010000001100010011001010010000001110100011010000110010100100000011000100110010101100001011100100110010101110010001000000110111101100110001000000110001001100001011001000010000001101110011001010111011101110011001011000010000001100010011101010111010000100000011100000110110001100101011000010111001101100101001011000010000001100100011011110110111000100111011101000010000001110011011010000110111101101111011101000010000001110100011010000110010100100000011011010110010101110011011100110110010101101110011001110110010101110010001011100010000001001111011100100010000001110100011010000110010100100000011001000110010101110000011101010111010001111001001000000110110101100101011100110111001101100101011011100110011101100101011100100010111000100000010000100111010101110100001000000111010001101000011000010111010000100111011100110010000001100001011011100010000001100101011011100111010001101001011100100110010101101100011110010010000001100100011010010110011001100110011001010111001001100101011011100111010000100000011011010110000101110100011101000110010101110010001011100000110100001010000011010000101001001101011110010010000001100011011011110110110101110000011101010111010001100101011100100010000001101000011000010111001100100000011101000110000101101011011001010110111000100000011011110111011001100101011100100010000001110100011010000110010100100000011101110110111101110010011011000110010000101110001000000100100001100001011100110010000001100001011011100111100101101111011011100110010100100000011100100110010101100001011001000010000001001000010010010101011001000101001111110010000001011001011001010111001100101100001000000110000100100000011000100110100101110100001000000110110001101001011010110110010100100000011010010110111000100000011101000110100001100001011101000010111000100000010101010110111001100110011011110111001001110100011101010110111001100001011101000110010101101100011110010010000001100110011011110111001000100000011010010111010000101100001000000110110101111001001000000110001101101111011011010111000001110101011101000110010101110010001000000110100101110011001000000110000100100000011100110110010101101110011100110110100101110100011010010111011001100101001000000110001101101000011000010111000000100000001010000100111001101111011101000010000001110011011001010111100001101001011100110111010000101100001000000110100101100110001000000110110101111001001000000110001101101111011011010111000001110101011101000110010101110010001000000111011101100001011100110010000001100110011001010110110101100001011011000110010100100000011010010111010000100000011101110110111101110101011011000110010000100000011001000110111100100000011011010110111101110010011001010010000001110111011011110111001001101011001011100010000001001001001000000111001101100001011101110010000001100001001000000111001101101001011001110110111000100000011100110110000101111001011010010110111001100111001000000010001001010111011000010111001001101110011010010110111001100111001110100010000001001101011001010110111000100000010101110110111101110010011010110110100101101110011001110010001000101110001000000101011101100001011100100110111001101001011011100110011100100000011011110110011000100000011101110110100001100001011101000011111100100000010001000110010101100001011101000110100000100000011000100111100100100000011100110110100001101111011000110110101100111111001000000100111101101000001000000110110101111001001000000111011101101111011100100110010000101100001000000110110101100101011011100010110000100000010101110100111101010010010010110100100101001110010001110011111100100001001000000010110101100100011010010110010101110011001000000110111101100110001000000110100001100101011000010111001001110100001000000110000101110100011101000110000101100011011010110010110100100000011101000110100001101001011011100110101101101001011011100110011100100000011000010110001001101111011101010111010000100000011010010111010000101100001000000100100100100000011100110110010101100101001000000111011101101000011001010111001001100101001000000111010001101000011001010010000001110011011010010110011101101110001000000111011101100001011100110010000001100011011011110110110101101001011011100110011100100000011001100111001001101111011011010010111000100000010000100110000101100011011010110010000001110100011011110010000001110100011010000110010100100000011100110111010001110101011001000110100101101111001010010010111000100000010010010111010000100000011010100111010101110011011101000010000001110111011000010110111001110100011100110010000001110100011011110010000001110100011000010110110001101011001000000111010001101111001000000111000001100101011011110111000001101100011001010010111000100000010101010110111001100110011011110111001001110100011101010110111001100001011101000110010101101100011110010010110000100000011101000110100001100101001000000111000001101111011011110111001000100000011101000110100001101001011011100110011100100000011011110110111001101100011110010010000001110011011100000110010101100001011010110111001100100000011010010110111000100000010000010101001101000011010010010100100100100000011000100110100101101110011000010111001001111001001000000110001101101111011001000110010100101100001000000111001101101111001000000111100101101111011101010010011101110010011001010010000001100111011011110110100101101110011001110010000001110100011011110010000001101000011000010111011001100101001000000111010001101111001000000111010001110010011000010110111001110011011011000110000101110100011001010010000001101001011101000010000001100110011011110111001000100000011110010110111101110101011100100111001101100101011011000110011000101110001000000101000001101100011001010110000101110011011001010010000001110100011000010110110001101011001000000110100101101110001000000110001001101001011011100110000101110010011110010010000001101101011011110111001001100101001000000110111101100110011101000110010101101110001011000010000001101001011101000010000001110111011011110111010101101100011001000010000001110010011001010110000101101100011011000111100100100000011011010110000101101011011001010010000001100001001000000110010001101001011001100110011001100101011100100110010101101110011000110110010100100000011101000110111100100000011000110110111101101101011100000111010101110100011001010111001001110011001000000110000101110010011011110111010101101110011001000010000001110100011010000110010100100000011101110110111101110010011011000110010000101110001000000101010001101000011001010111100100100000011011010110100101100111011010000111010000100000011101110110010101101100011011000010000001110000011100100110111101110110011001010010000001101101011101010110001101101000001000000110110101101111011100100110010100100000011000110110111100101101011011110111000001100101011100100110000101110100011010010111011001100101001000000110100101100110001000000111100101101111011101010010000001100100011011110010110000100000010010010010000001110000011100100110111101101101011010010111001101100101001000000111010001101000011001010111100100100111011011000110110000100000011101110110111101110010011010110010000001101000011000010111001001100100011001010111001000101110001000000100111101101110001000000111010001101111011100000010000001101111011001100010000001110100011010000110000101110100001011000010000001101101011010010110111001100101001000000110110101101001011001110110100001110100001000000110011101101001011101100110010100100000011101010111001100100000011101000110100001100101001000000111011101101111011100100110110001100100001000000110001001100001011000110110101100101110001000000000110100001010000011010000101001001001001000000110110001101001011010110110010100100000011010000110111101110111001000000111010001101000011001010010000001110100011100100110000101101110011100110110110001100001011101000110111101110010001000000111010001101111011011110110110000100000011100110110000101111001011100110010000000100010010101000110111100100000011000100110100101101110011000010111001001111001001000100010111000100000010100110111010101100011011010000010000001110000011101010111001001110000011011110111001101100101001011100000110100001010000011010000101001001000011001010111001001100101001001110111001100100000011100110110111101101101011001010111010001101000011010010110111001100111001000000110011001110

101011011100011101000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100010011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000100110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001001100000011000000110001001100010011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100000011000100110001001100000011000000110000001100000011000000110000001100010011000100110000001100000011000000110001

Coffee

I quite enjoy being consulted for my opinion. It gives me a warm feeling inside to wander into people's trivial arguments and shatter misconceptions with an iron mace of knowledge. Rarely do I feel greater than when people turn around with astonished faces at the infinite reaches of my mind. Of course, this doesn't happen much, as I live in a house where six-year olds roam freely with their deep theological and philosophical theories (My favourite came from my sister Sarah, who claimed she couldn't be blamed for losing an argument as she wasn't entirely confident of her own existence, therefore naturally unwilling to put all of her effort into it). Still, it's nice, once in a while...

So it's only natural I don't like  being called "pet". Call me optimistic, but I like to believe during my time on earth I've risen above the various dumb species people take and train and live with to provide small amounts of amusement whenever they're feeling intellectually inferior to their fellow homo-sapiens. A sort of conversational punch bag. I can't help but feel the whole thing's a bit one sided. This makes me paranoid whenever I'm "pet"ed, or god forbid, "darling"ed by old ladies who can't even remember their name or where it is appropriate to urinate. Surely they must be all laughing behind our back, because otherwise the codgers wouldn't have the audacity to "pet" me, Jacob Bradley (In the toilet).

I'm bigger than them. I'm stronger than them. The other day I was walking down the street, and a woman maybe into her sixties came the other direction, crossed the road before she reached me, and crossed back to my side once she'd passed me*. They're scared of me. :D.**

So why should a passing acquaintance merit a "pet", when a lack of such a tenuous bond merits evasion and withering stares from across the street?

I think I've worked it out. They're rats. No, that's not an insult, it's a biological truth. Wrinkly, hairy, bloodshot eyes, secretly experimenting and controlling us while we presume the opposite is true. The similarities are endless. Incredibly intelligent pan-dimensional beings they are, no word of a doubt. They get simple things right that the rest of us fail to grasp. Ever been offered coffee at the end of an evening meal? Probably. As much as when you think about it, the answer should be "Fuck off", quite often you'll go for it. And feel like shit that evening  and the next morning. Old ladies though, have  developed the coffee morning, after which they can spend the rest of the day hyperactively weeding, making jam, running about in their little wheels and doing whatever it  is old ladies do when not at coffee mornings and bitching about how schoolchildren shouldn't be allowed on buses. Despite the massive sign on the front of the bus reading "814 Scholars all welcome". Perhaps they'd rather all 150 schoolchildren from my village getting the bus drove in. Another win in the fight against pollution and congestion. Oh damn, that doesn't make good logical sense. Maybe they aren't rats after all.

*The fact that she was my grandmother made me feel even more guilty about this...

**Just to clarify, the fact that my presence is intimidating and making people's lives worse doesn't make me feel good at all, it makes me feel awful. What makes me feel good is the POWER. Probably shouldn't, but what the hell, I'm afraid the honest truth is it does. Would you rather I lied?

Zephaniah. No, not Zephaniah.

Correct. This post is named jointly after a biblical character and modern poet. The reason? Because I bring news of a prophet. I am prophecising a prophet, you could say*. That prophet is Michael, or to you MickayC. He not only pre-empted me so long ago** when I was internally debating the possibility of creating a blog, taking the cyber baton and leading the field in electrical publishing, but has done so again in being the first of us to create a second blog.

I would strongly encourage you read his second blog. It's called Stand Up Beside the Fireplace***, and is an excellent counterpoint to his light-hearted, whimsical and extremely funny 3 Year Old Trapped in a Teenager's Body. The plan is that it will allow his debut blog to remain light-hearted, whimsical and extremely funny while the broodings of a moody adolescent can be successfully diverted. Diverted is the wrong word to use, I don't mean to say that they aren't a good read. To understand any teenager you need to hear about the good bits and bad bits. If you'll forgive me for sounding dramatic, Michael speaks for the entire 13-19 year old world about emotional issues the rest of us don't have the guts to share. It's brilliant.

Alas, I sounded a bit like a reviewer there. Now, to the news I wish to bring, my new blog. In itself that statement was an inaccuracy (One of very few in this blog. Not), as while it will sail under my banner (The creation of an entire google account proved to strenuous for my lazy cranium), it mainly belongs to my uncle. My uncle has shown interest in blogging in order to "get down with the kids". His use of the phrase indicates the necessity thereof, if you catch my drift. I have not yet asked permission to reveal my uncle's name to the world (All seven of you following this), so let us for now call him John. The blog was originally going to be named Grumpy Young Men, and be a general moan at life, albeit a humorous and sarcastic one, but we've changed our minds and as per an excellent suggestion from him, it's going to be called "Agony Uncle", with Grumpy Young Men demoted to tagline. I hope I don't have to explain the title and layout of the blog, I really do value the intelligence of my readers. So, I'll get cracking then. You can have the link in a couple days when we get the final details sorted.

In explanation of the slightly strange title of this post (For those of you less well versed in Christian teaching, Zephaniah was a minor prophet amongst many, possibly hundreds), I chose Zephaniah because it brought to mind a crossword clue me and Michael (We're quite the pair, he's coming up a lot in this post, isn't he?) solved (Naturally). It read "Biblical prophet/modern poet", obviously referring to previously mentioned Zephaniah and Benjamin Zephaniah, a Jamaican poet from Birmingham (What the hell, it's late, I only had a chance to quickly scroll down his wikipedia). Can I just say that I'm using so many parenthesis' because after a while footnote markers take up more space than the actual footnotes. If I'd continued with them in this post, I'd have reached **********, which looks more like a profanity than a footnote. Coming back round to the subject, Zephaniah was just a little mental connection I made, which is apparently something I need to stop doing. According to my source of worldly wisdom and knowledge of every subject (Dad.), such little neural rushes are one of the reasons for my insomnia****. My mind flitters from one subject without bothering to stop, giving it no time to rest and fall asleep. For instance, the mere mention of prophets brought me to remember a strange incident earlier today when I was given a prediction that a flood would claim the earth, and that I, Jacobia (Not even my proper extended name), would have to build a boat (A slightly copycat announcement, I thought). Actually, I'm just the man, I have a book on building boats. No word of a lie. I can show you it if you like. I got it for my tenth birthday, the same birthday I received the GCSE Usborne Dictionary of Science, which is currently lying on the shelf above my bed, which reminds me, OH SHIT, I have to do my science homework. You see? While this took me several minutes to write down, it flickered through my brain far too fast for me to fall asleep, although in this case the flickering was quite useful, as I have no wish to fall asleep, and it alerted me to my science homework. About that. It doesn't exist mum and dad, so don't you start getting naggy. It's mention was purely for demonstrative effect. Not really, I need to get it done fucking now.

Oh, one other thing. I'm aware Ruthenium Witters has recently written about basically the same mind flickering, I wouldn't want her to think I wasn't reading her posts. She reminded me I was planning to write about it, so, erm... well done her. Oh my god, not another prophet

*Not strictly true. I am bringing word of a prophet with whom I have had encounters. Retrospectively prophecising a prophet, perhaps. I would include this in the main text, but I get the feeling this post is going to be long enough as it is. Another hitch in my reasoning is that Michael hasn't predicted anything, merely emulated my exact actions several days in advance. Much easier, obviously.

**Okay, the Easter holidays.

***http://subtf.blogspot.com/

****Just as a disclaimer, he only mentioned this theory once, and this was as a passing comment many years ago. He probably doesn't remember, and I detect he might be getting annoyed at me publishing blatant lies as his "Opinions". This is simply how I interpreted what he said. Although I can hardly be blamed if I was wrong, he should be more careful about what he says to nine year olds. I spent most of my childhood believing my full name was Wajacob Bradley, all because of him.

Hair

Men are unsociable. Get over it. But even I have to admit, at the climax of our unnecessary emotional solitude, we can be downright unreasonable. Particularly when discussing that least manly of topics, hair. A boy can drag himself out of bed at five o'clock in the morning to ensure not a single strand is out of place, but try and discuss it with him and you'll receive a look that would make a homicidal pubescent rhinoceros with a crick in its horn feel faint. It is the elephant in the room, that which is constantly fretted over and checked in car windows (sometimes to the bewilderment of their owners), but never mentioned. I am no exception. For me, asking someone else about their hair would be almost inviting them to ask about mine, and that might drag the conversation into an excruciating cross-examination of coiffures difficult to come out of with any dignity.

And is there a more compromising setting to be seen in than a hairdresser's? Sitting being pampered over by a gay man* with clips holding your hair in strange directions is possibly the worst time to turn around and find your best friend sitting next to you. This isn't exactly what happened to me, I was queuing for the gay man's attention when from the door emerges a rain-sodden, windswept specimen. With a comical double take, I realised who he was. My instincts and the wisdom of experience told me to sit very still and make no sudden movements. My darling mother had different ideas, dragging him and his mum's attention to us in the same way a suffocating blue whale might, with limbs flapping about the place and a strange twisted expression that to the two parents present was probably a smile, but to me and Zac was a pained grimace probably present before an indescribably agonising death. After all, how could she be pleased about this dreadful coincidence? Of course, for girls and women bumping into each other in the hairdresser's is the same as bumping into each other anywhere else, but we hadn't worked this out. Luckily for us,  we were sent to opposite ends of the room, where our pact of mutual ignorance (I won't look if you don't) wasn't really necessary, but it was close.

I'm unsure whether it would have been worse for us seeing each other have our hair cut, or hearing each other talk about our hair. It's not something boys are accustomed to doing on a regular basis, so when in the sort of pressurised situation we're talking about, either tend to act mute and adopt the complex of watermelon innards, or burst out with everything we haven't been saying to each other about our hair preferences for our whole lives. It's not cool.

To conclude then, boys are a bit stupid, but if you're a girl you probably already knew that, and if you're a boy that's the way you like it. So congratulations again Jacob, another post successfully written that will provide useful insights to, give or take very little, absolutely no-one. 

*My particular gay man happens to be one of the loveliest people I know, and I hold nothing against him. Yes, that can be taken literally or emotionally; I like him, but not in that way.

In defense of Apple.

I begin today with a question. Yes, that's right, a question. I hear you recoil in shock and awe. Jacob... consulting the opinion of other people? Although it has to be said I have preserved some of my self-saturated dignity by making the question about myself.

Are there any kinds of Apple that I don't like?

Computers or fruity snacks, I just love 'em. I once collected the stickers of apples I'd eaten*, and put them on a door. The door became so heavy it wouldn't open and we had to throw it out. Okay, a slight exaggeration, but the door quickly became full of apple stickers, and incidentally, it was thrown out, although that was more because a) There was blood on it, and b) We had an extension and put a massive wall in front of it. I have to say, the blood slightly ruined the effect; it looked less like the happy hobby of a healthily eating nine year old and more similar to the souvenirs collected from hundreds of murders, carried out by a brutal criminal cartel dedicated to avenging apples throughout the world.

Regardless of my psychopathic habits or lack of such, my favourite brand of apples were Pink Ladies (the shiny red ones), I found that in general green apples were more reliably satisfying, but prime specimens of red apples far out-tasted their green elite rivals, and I spent my childhood in the happy company of fruit. And blood. Mwahahahaha. But I keep wittering on about that, and it really isn't what I'm trying to talk about.

Then lo, in a moment of enlightenment and discovery casting those of Buddha and Columbus into shadow, I found a way to connect the two main obsessions of my life at that point, fruit and computers, when I discovered the Mac.

AppleMacs, as is their full name, were brought out by the dying company, Apple, which had been all but destroyed in the IBM revolution, as an almost last-ditch effort. They brought together everything they knew, and made it work. It was named after the Macintosh, the brand of Apple favoured by an employee at Apple. It was fast, it had a handy little application bar called "Doc", and was very, very, cool. Since then Apple has exploded, making lots of stuff, but most importantly, of course, the iPod. Now, did you know that a few years ago, every single "Zune" (Microsoft's equivalent of the iPod), froze, because it couldn't handle a leap year? They were just crap, and now, if I may quote my esteemed friend Emilie, "APPLE IS BOLLOCKS". This would annoy me anyway, but even more so because the reason her iPod's screen is cracked is because I dropped it on the floor**, not through any fault of Apple. So, if I may quote President Nixon and the Green dude from underwater in Star Wars I: The Phantom Menace, "BRBRBRBRBRBRBRBR".

*I am obviously talking about the fruit here.
**I am intending on paying for her new screen, I'm not completely unreasonable. She is though. I think she blamed Apple because she couldn't face tarnishing the reputation of a flawless innocent like me. Yeah, that's definitely it.

Facebook has let me down for the last time.

Confusion is a state in which I often find myself. I will be casually swimming at a steady front crawl for hours before the knowledge that I am in fact pacing about the house strikes, and I will be lost in a maelstrom of dizziness and headaches for an amount of time seemingly without correlation to how long I had been lost in my thoughts for. I wonder why it is that I may have started swimming, but to no avail. That information is locked deep within my subconscious, and can only be extracted through torture. I have tried this on occasion, and eventually I cracked, of course, but because the restraints imposed by the Geneva convention I cannot tell you why I deluded myself into thinking my house was in fact the North Sea. It's bloody annoying.

Still, while mild bewilderment is my natural habitat to some extent,  some things I am sure do not make sense to anyone, in any way. Often, these supremely odd occurrences come from Facebook. Do not get me wrong, Facebook is an amazing website, and has got me through some of the trickiest times and stickiest situations of my life, but it does tend to change itself suddenly in ways that cannot be understood. One of these was the merging of inboxes and chat. It strikes me as slightly strange that now when you have a conversation with somebody, everything they say is sent to you twice. For instance, I am talking to my good friend Jeremy about, let's say, Leviticus. We reach the conclusion of our conversation, and go our separate ways (digitally, if not physically). Now I check my inbox, to find Jeremy has also sent me a message. Hmmm, if seems vaguely familiar, is it, yes it is, its exactly the same as he's just been saying to me on chat. How bizarre.

Moving on. While the above and various other things confuse me, albeit* in a slightly endearingly eccentric way, some make me downright angry, and nothing more so than a new addition to facebook, the "Say Happy Birthday" tool. How dare you, Facebook, how dare you. For years, I have been simply notified that it is someones birthday, and have happily strolled along to their page, and delivered my specifically tailored, bespoke birthday message. Now though, mass produced Happy Birthdays are taking over the market, crushing lovely, home made, heartfelt birthday greetings into the ground. It makes me fume so much just thinking about it, the condensation from the skylight above me is dripping onto the screen. What now shall I do on my birthday, during the times I used to lovingly scroll down the wall, evaluating my social status by considering carefully any smiley faces, kisses or capital letters I may have received? I'll tell you, I'll sit and cry at pages and pages of "Happy Birthday Jacob"s that will be all there is on offer. I will weep salty tears** of depression at legions of brainwashed humans devoid of all their past character and flair. I will shriek curses at the sky, condemning the day Mark Zuckenberg woke up feeling the need to meddle in my affairs.

Oh no, wait, it doesn't post a message, it just directs you to their wall. Well that's OK then.

*That's right, I used the word albeit, a life goal of mine.
**What other sorts are there?

Cambridgeshire

I know. I've been away for too long. I have betrayed your loyalty, and you are probably baying for my blood. No, that would be tame, you are howling to a bleak and stormy sky of your undying hatred for anyone vaguely connected to the name Bradley. If I ever show my sorry face in your presence anon, you will rip my skin and hair off slowly using nothing but cans and trouser zips. You will scatter the parts of me that can't be mentioned (and as someone very rudely suggested the other day, probably wouldn't be worth mentioning even if they could be) over an area encompassing most of the known world, and some of Narnie, my highly original own little fantasy universe.

Still, I've been busy. I have ventured past the first frontier, surely the place where all legendary explorers must start on their way to greatness. I have voyaged to a land where sheep are mythical creatures on a par with the Jabberwocky and Balrog, where Ian Hislop roams free spreading poncyness and baldness in equal proportions behind him, and of course, where it is possible to call immediate female ancestors "Mam" without being subject to constant public ridicule. That's right, I've gone to see my cousins.

My trip began, and indeed was strewn throughout, with water. It rained the whole sorry four hour journey. Still, I had my crosswords, a new found passion of mine, and my great book of Blackadder, a slightly older but just as passionate passion of mine. We turned up at the campsite, ready to start our holiday merry-making, but we'd forgotten how wet the rain was, so we retreated to an Italian restaurant, which, if I might say so, served the most delicious lasagne.

I think I should point out at this point that about half an hour ago I unwittingly wrote almost three pages of boring waffling crap continuing in a similar vein, which I have now deleted (I was disgusted at myself concerning the whole "most delicious lasagne" affair, and that has only remained becuase it really was most delicious lasagne), and will now serve you the cream and marshmallows (extending the hot chocolate analogy, the stuff I've deleted was the dregs at the bottom of the mug, that no matter how long you pour down into your mouth, will never finish. I like this analogy). Our first relatives served cake, earning them almost infinite brownie points, or chocolate sponge points, whichever you prefer. A novel experience for me was playing Nazi Zombies for the first time, against lots of people who just sounded southern*. I even heard one of them state "I might go and do some homework now", surely worthy of the social death sentence up here. Back to the zombies. Suffice to say I died, in almost every sense of the world.

The second bunch of cousins in the ultimate banana tree of my family are extremely amusing, and small. For fear of reprimands, the fact they are small and amusing are in no way connected. The evening ended in the most violent game of football I have ever seen, which my team (the boys) won. Full stop**.

However, I'm almost certain the highlight of the trip, for my sister at least, came on our final day in Cambridge. For those who are not aware, punting is extremely popular in Cambridge, and entails one person standing on a raised platform at the back of a small boat and pushing against the bottom of the river with a massive pole. In short, which seems to be a developing theme in this post, we were nearing a bridge partially obscured by a tree, in a particularly difficult stretch of river, and the circumstances combined so that I fell off the boat. If I'm honest, I don't see why everyone doesn't, the one thing I've noticed about small boats across the world is that the occupants are almost always sitting down. Still, I digress, I fell off the boat, much to the mirth of my sister as I paddled around the frankly disgusting water. I think I would have at least waited for her to resurface before screaming with laughter.

I shall talk more on this subject another time, for now though, farewell.

*I realise now that they were actually on my team, and it was the zombies we were fighting. I got slightly confused, and actually did quite a good job of getting everyone killed.
** Do you have any idea how hard it is not to elaborate on a point like that? I was adamant though, we won, that's all. I've eventually settled for a compromise, and down here I can tell you the final score was six-four to the boys, although we carried on with a penalty shoot out, which the boys also won.

That's not cricket.

Greetings, my loyal minions. Have you missed my unfortunately prolonged absence from the interwaves, as my Grandma calls them? I bet you have. I can just picture you, crying yourself to sleep, eating too much, watching Eurovision*, the usual signals that someone has given up on life. And now I return, awesomeness radiating from me like objects that aren't usually glow-in-the-dark radiate from the Fukushima power plant. And what does this second coming of Oh Christ** talk about? Cricket. I can just hear your disappointed "Oh"s.

I don't really get the impression that people on my cricket team think on the same wavelength as me. Or, come to mention it, think it all. It's not that they're stupid, it's just me and them don't really click, y'know? They're still giggling at naughty words and sinking to annoying levels of unhygienic verbal interpretation (For those of you overwhelmed by long words, they laugh whenever someone says "do", "pencil" or "had". They're basically childishly dirty minded in a way most of us got over by year 7), while I'm, uhhhm, showing off my fancy vocabulary and being pedantic (The other day someone who's got it into their head that I'm religious told me I don't like horror films "Because thou shall not kill". I told them it was actually "Shalt". See what I mean? It was the wrong answer).

Plus I don't think they properly appreciate my bland optimism in the most hopeless of situations. My cheery grins and assurances we're going to kick ass are usually greeted with stony silence (And even more annoyingly, are quite frequently blatantly wrong at the moment). They might think I'm being sarcastic. They're wrong. I genuinely believe we're going to win every match this season in high style.

I would delight you with more details of my fascinating experiences on the cricket pitch (for instance, what makes it so impossible to resist start using the work "Ha'way"), but I've been told my posts are getting too long. I leave you with the observation by someone or other that war isn't about dying for your country, it's about making the other bastard die for his. Goodbye.

*Funnily enough, I do usually watch Eurovision, but for the supporters of this blog (to whom I am the human embodiment of pure masculinity) it might come as a bit of a shock. So on with the dissing.
**A complicated pun, may be lost on you.

The R factor

Anyone seen the IT crowd? Probably not, but then again, you're probably normal. And what have I always said about normal people? They're idiots, of course. So, regardless of your views on the varying levels of idiocy in the massing public, or on the IT crowd, or whether you've even watched the IT crowd, I will continue, as I always do. Cue sighs.

Well, as is so rightly pointed out by Jen (Katherine Parkinson) in Calendar Geeks, the R factor is "Things that make you go Awwwww". It really should be Rrrrrrrr, I know, but what they said is what they said. Besides, Rrrrrr and Awwww sound quite similar. Ask the dinosaurs, a peace-loving era of pleasant yet slightly patronising reptiles, constantly mistook for mindless ravaging killers, all because of misinterpreted Awwws.

So yes, The R factor is stuff like naked calendars of unemployed men and old women from Devon, or that kid in Come Fly With Me who never gets to go to pilot school. But not Cats or Dogs. Never. The stinky, constantly excreting, evil, frankly scary things should be struck regularly, like gongs.

They've been here for centuries, carefully manipulating us until they're in a position to take over, while at the same time harnessing our technological advancement to have a cushier life. What was the first animal to orbit our planet in a space ship? A dog called Laika. To be fair, it died, but it must have been enjoying itself before it plummeted down to it's flattened doom. Serves it right, the malign canine.

Dogs and Cats are much scarier at eye level. I can just about deal with them when I tower over them like a towering thing, but when you've just fallen off your chair and a dog starts licking your face, you know what a terrifying death must feel like. Particularly drowning, this fellow was a bit over-keen on the saliva front.

I do not like Cats and Dogs, but I have a solution. Bring back our Awwwing friends the dinosaurs, who will find scaring them off quite easy, I'd assume. Then convince the dinosaurs that they have, in fact, been dead the whole time, and are just hallucinating future existence. Then, when they're busy trying to work out whether this is true, by nipping each other and the like, we should (as would be said on the Armstrong and Miller show) "KILL THEM".

The rants that never were.

I was going to have a lovely little anti-parental rant, and even planned out the basics of it while lying fuming in bed last night, but naturally (yet still annoyingly), my parents were very nice to me today, possibly in reconciliation, and now I'd feel bad about it. They do this all the time, and while I know that as a decent human being I should accept their apology and carry on with my sad, wretched life (of which you have a small insight), it does feel somewhat like a waste of good venting material. Carrying our volcano analogy one step further, I'm a real lava spurter being bombed with liquid nitrogen canisters. I've run out of steam. Still, ah well, this was the basic vent, which was either going on facebook or being contributed as a delightful addition to your reading material:

Geez, it's just brilliant when you've returned from a cricket match in which you managed to seriously injure yourself, yet heroically kept on playing (I know, I'm quite the martyr), returning by your own means, despite being under the impression that a pick-up was being arranged (the "So what time should I come and pick him up" was what really sold that idea to me), and feeling like collapsing in a bruised and battered heap, not to wake until some time late the next millennium. Even more splendiferous when, instead of fulfilling the aforementioned sleeping ambitions, you have around one and a half hours worth of history homework to complete. Having finished that, it's so late now you might as well wait for your parents to come home from the pub, which in the meantime you have learned is where they are enjoying a pleasurable Jacob-free evening, and just talk for a bit- not necessarily for a long time, you're still feeling like falling unconscious on the spot- you know, tell them about what's been happening while they've been drinking, ask them what they think of the cuts and grazes you can now proudly display as a tribute to your sporting determination and dedication, ask them how they've been, inform them of your glorious victory, generally spend some, albeit limited, quality time with them that you think you've been missing out on with them over the last few days. Alas, not to be, you foul child! Obviously you enjoy staying awake past the stage of bleary eyed incomprehension, and should be punished. Now, go to bed! At this point you might well consider trying to explain why you're sitting waiting for their slightly swaying return, it's quite hard for them to guess, but you'd really rather go to bed. Clearly the "Quality parent son communication" isn't going to happen, made as obvious by the scent of beer and wine in their breath as by their unnecessary snappiness. So, with a slight yawn/groan as your aching muscles protest after a long, painful evening, you stand up to leave. Unfortunately, this yawn/groan is clearly a sign of unruliness, and you will now be taken to task in a  tirade filled with about as much empathy and understanding as would be displayed by a giant comet crashing into a weary planet, utterly destroying it. So, now you're crawling up the stairs, as at some point during the evening the calf muscle that had been causing problems after you pulled it during a warm-up (one of the subjects you were planning to discuss with your parents) has gone from uncomfortable to agonising, and hear something shouted from below about how in future there might well have to be times by which you must be in bed being enforced. Well, frankly, looking back on the evening you've had, that idea doesn't seem so bad.

I'm afraid I have have got slightly back into the spirit of it again just there... sorry about that. So yes, as the post of this title suggests, rants such as that are often never really voiced. Strangely enough, a post about non-existent rants seems to have spawned its very own, quite existent, rant. Such fun. 
 

Talk of many things.

I usually try to enforce some level of cohesion and flow between parts of my posts, to limit the number of people understanding them. My theory is that if people get an impression that I'm trying to say something deep and significant, and attempt to understand how I get from one point to the other, they will give up fairly quickly and just appreciate the comedy of individual sentences/paragraphs. Today I will be abandoning this tradition, and go for a more "Where are the crayons and jelly beans" approach, with various anecdotes and opinions strewn about the place like Osama Bin Laden's face was strewn about the wall behind him, just without the beard.

Firstly, I had a slightly strange request for content yesterday. Actually, no, the day before. I would edit out the sentence in which I incorrectly informed you of the time I received this request as yesterday, but I want you to understand certain levels of thinking do go into these posts, on an intellectual level, if not a grammatical one, as my family are so gung-ho about pointing out. They've never really let me forget the time I said "I am righting this post to...". And, in a neat little circle of thought, it was a member of my family who asked me to tell you all about this. All seven of you. No, five, as two of my followers are my family and were there at the time. But yes, a member of my family drew my attention to this, although I am having trouble remembering which one. Maybe one of those Darth-Vader-without-a-mask creatures from DW, they're so strange I must be somehow connected to them. ENOUGH WITTER, I hear you cry. So to the content.

Well, Norway's about to collapse, I am told. The whole western coastline is on the verge of plummeting down into the sea, causing a massive tidal wave to come over and teach us Japanese. As much as that pun was nonsensical and lacked a bit of decent human empathy, I think you get my point. I don't really know much about the specifics, for once even the internet was a bit vague, but from what I can tell the North Sea has been busy eating away underneath, meaning they're basically sitting on top of a giant cave. So now if they eat to much and press too hard on the ground, it'll all topple over. As the hitchiker's guide would say in nice, friendly letters on the front though, Don't Panic, although I'm having trouble locating the hitchiker's guide's reasoning right here. I'm sure it'll all be fine though, and if it isn't then most of us probably won't really care.

Cheery stuff. Still, moving swiftly onwards (interestingly, the words moving swiftly onwards can be arranged in any order and still mean the same thing). I'd like to draw your attention to some extremely cool palindromes. So, without ado (which is unusual in itself), here they are:
The noon sex alert relaxes no one.
Nurse, I spy gypsies. Run!
Sex at noon taxes.
Was it a car or a cat I saw?
Do geese see God?
Rats live on no evil star.
Stressed? No Tips? Spit on Desserts.
Go deliver a dare, vile dog!
Kay, a red nude, peeped under a yak.

And my personal favourite...
No, it never propagates if I set a gap or prevention.

That's pretty much it for today. I leave you with news that Pirates of the Caribbean 4: On stranger tides, and Kung Fu Panda 2 look AWESOME! Here are the links:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wZTtvYLvCRI&feature=fvst
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YIW5oo-8NYw

My lack of resistance to torture.

I often wonder how long I would last under the scrutiny of heavy torture. I like to think I'd stick by my friends to the heroic but slightly annoying and no doubt excruciatingly painful death, but I know in my heart of hearts that this is, as they say, falsch.  Well, I say they, I mean the Germans, obviously. I don't think we should view our relationship with Germany as us and they*, because there are so many more enjoyable and intelligent ways to be Racist out there (although even more ways to diss racists. Option one, gatecrash a BNP party conference and scream "I F***ING LOVE LENNY HENRY". Two, be black and on a train, wait for someone to tell you to "Go home", then explain to them that's why you're the train. Three, punch the hateful little bastard very hard in the face).

The thing is, I might even view my friendship as being worth some bruises and a cool eye-scar, like Scar off The Lion King has (A slightly self-explanatory name, if ever there was one). Maybe. Depends on the friend, and if I might be able to thus extort money out of them for the trouble. This is only, however, when I'm running little fantasies of me saving the whole world in a dastardly overthrow of the hideous regime ring-led by Bruno Mars and Justin Bieber. I know it won't look so good when someone's actually holding the knife to my throat.

How do I know this? Well, over the last week I've had two dreams. The first entailed a different scenario, in which I was told I had 10 days to live. I asked what my illness would do after that, to which I was answered, and I quote, "It will DESTROY you". Like the torture situation, I enjoy thinking I would be calm and collected and make the most of my last few days on earth, winning the respect of the global community. In reality (well, sort of, I didn't realise it was a dream, so I guess my reaction was sort of genuine) I went completely insane and pushed my Granddad off a boat. I know, what a hero.

My second dream was a scene vaguely similar to my hero fantasies, but with considerably meaner looking interrogators and a more expansive collection of pointy objects of purpose that wasn't obvious, but clearly painful. I was having a bit of an inner pickle about what to do, and I have the feeling my inner wimp was about to win, when it turned out they only wanted a pound. "A pound", I thought. "That sounds quite... reasonable". I can't honestly say I've ever been stabbed, but I can imagine it might somewhat inconvenience you, even put a damper on your evening. And here was this man, offering me the opportunity to forgo such a horrific experience, for a mere pound. I was beginning to like him.

So, aside from the obvious fact that this post has no relevance or point whatsoever, my point is that I might or might not stick by my friends (you lot) in a torture situation. There you go, see, whoever said my posts weren't enlightening?

*Yes, I know it's grammatically incorrect, just trying to keep up the continuity.

My psychic powers.

I hate writing short posts. There's nothing more disappointing to me than to log in, see someone's written a new post, clap my hands with glee and anticipation at a few minutes good reading, only to find a couple of sentences with all the wit and scintillatory merit of a toilet roll. But alas, a short post I must write, as I have pressing business to attend to, a sister standing behind me who wants to use the computer, and not much to write about.

I'd like, in a shocking display of psychic ability, to draw your attention to a blog that may well not have started yet. I believe it's going to be called "Juice in an empty cup" and is being written by my friend Tiffany. I'm also under the impression that it might contain references to me. See if you can find them :P

Swing Life Away.

I've not posted for a few days now, mainly because I've been so darn busy. I've had English, History, Tech, Science and more English homework. I've had to deal with crisis after crisis, I've had to act as a little barrister in my head to decide who's side of an argument I'm on. I've generally had to cram all the action of a few months. And today hasn't got much better. Actually, it's been downright worse. Instead of just having no time to enjoy doing nothing, I've been having a downright bad time. Let's have a look at my lessons, for a start. Languages: a big hate for me. I like German, but not French, today we had a French assessment, after which I had a detention with my language teacher that some thickshit decided to remind her about, for no apparent reason. English: I like my English teacher, but it seems that, like me, the strains of life are getting to her a bit. She could almost be described as waspish. And two nights ago at eleven o'clock in the evening I Emailed her the homework that was supposed to be in for before the Easter holidays. Completely my fault, but that doesn't mean it's not unpleasant. IT: not only do we have a teacher who goes past stroppy and ascends into mythological levels of pure undiluted rage at the slightest provocation, I'm about three weeks behind on my work, this time not my fault, but because of my illness a few weeks ago. My afternoon brightened a bit, admittedly, but couldn't exactly be described as similar to having a picnick up a hill.

My lessons weren't what really got me down today, though. I could find things to be annoyed about most days, and in the end I've got no more of a worse lot than anyone else, and I try not to whine too much. No, what really made me just want to scream and run away to somewhere I could keep myself to myself was lunchtime. What I really wanted to do was lie down in the sun and just forget about worldly stresses for a while. Nope. No rest for the wicked. While normally I consider a water fight and several little adventures involving stealing things and hiding them fair game (and later having a slightly heated discussion with a wandering dinner nanny about what you were doing with a massive pole you suspected contained your tie, but then turned out not to), today I frankly just couldn't be arsed. How do you say that, though? Do you get angry? Cos the people you hang around with haven't done anything wrong, you're just feeling a bit self-indulgent and self-pitying. Do you just groan and ask them to give you some peace for a bit in a not too annoyed manner? Because then the chances are they won't take you seriously, once again through no fault of their own.

I really have no excuse to be annoyed and depressed at the moment, the sickening self-pity I find manifesting in the corners of my brain really pisses me off. My teenage brain can't seem to accept that it's not really that bad, and it should just get over itself.

Tonight's no less busy. I have to complete an essay on the relative significance of the battle of Stalingrad, D-day, the battle of Berlin and Hiroshima (another brilliant and catchy title there, almost comes close to "How does Willy Russell use setting and environment in his play Educating Rita to comment on education and social class?" Dammit, I should come up with headlines). I'm not doing it at the moment, though. I'm listening to music and writing this (obvious when you think about it). Whatever I'm feeling, music completely controls my emotions. It makes me angry, passionate, sleepy, happily complacent, sad, and sometimes put on camouflage trousers and commando roll down the corridor, in a military, decisive manner. It takes me to the happy place where it's just me and I can think my own thoughts and not have to deal with mere mortals like yourselves (I condemn the use of improper grammar in this blog as much as possible, but this would be a good time for a winky face. ;) ).

So I'm spending most of the time lying down with my eyes closed and earphones in, occasionally writing a couple of sentences of this. Grooveshark has saved me, once again. Some of my calming favourites include Run by Snow Patrol, Wires by Athlete, Hesitate by Stone Sour, and Swing Life Away by Rise Against. That's what music helps me do, swing life away.

Anyway, Joseph Stalin's life story won't write itself, so I should probably give it a hand. It's been nice talking to you. All the best.

My small venture into adulthood.

Those of you who've logged into my blog recently might have been given the "Contains adult content" treatment. It was up for a couple of hours, after I got a message asking me to put it up, but then after I tried to establish with my contact what exactly was the problem, they went sort of quiet. So woo, invite the whole family, gather round and listen ;) Well, read.

It's the mornings that are bleurgh, but I'll blame school.

I got a sense of deja vu this morning, slightly, kind of, vaguely, a bit. You see, the other day I was chewing a glow stick. Don't ask me why, but if anything's not immediately disgusting, like most foods, I'll probably end up biting it. Common examples are shiny new coins, single bus tickets* and my nails. In that respect, I really haven't moved on much since I was a baby, apart from now I can only reach one set of nails. So, I was chomping away at this glow stick, delighting in the crunchy sound it makes, when it cracked just a little bit, and some of the glow juice dribbled out on to my waiting oh-so-picky taste buds, and made short work of them. I don't know if anyone else has ever swallowed glow stick juice before, but it just makes you go... bleurgh. Sometimes all over the place.

And so to the crux of the matter. Bleurghing is the little sound you make when anything slightly miserable and petty tempts you to give up on life. And it's exactly what I did this morning, as the morning call that I thought had descended into the bowels of history as the Easter holidays stretched on came marching into my room with frankly sickening optimism and positiveness, practically gushing with warm feeling towards the world. Or maybe just enjoying putting me through the misery, the torment that is waking up. Not properly waking up, no, I only really achieve that around half way through second lesson (During languages, the aforementioned second lesson, you start asleep from the night and end asleep from boredom, so you go through a sort of transitional phase where you can just about keep your eyes focused), but beginning on the winding, bleary road towards consciousness, and as with all journeys, the starting is the hardest part.

Now, breakfast tables in my house are quite engaging events, with subjects ranging from deep philosophy and music theory to possible strategies for an invasion of the Isle of Wight. It's quite soothing to discuss such matters freely without the usual restrictions of common sense and tact that come with being awake. But this morning, I went into "Teenage social recluse" mode, and when Sarah started a See-who-can-name-the-most-counties-in-Europe-beginning-with-L competition, I barely managed to grunt "Latvia Liechtenstein Lithuania Luxembourg Macedonia" through the white mist of sleepiness. Naturally, my family immediately didn't see my current annoyance with life, and went on to tell me some random drivel about how Macedonia doesn't begin with an L.

After much more grunting and grimacing on my my part, they finally caught on to my unhappiness, and in true Bradley style that I would have laughed and grinned a wicked grin at on any other occasion, or if I hadn't been the recipient of such blatant rudeness, they completely ignored me. I think it was purely out of concern for the diminishing amount of remaining undamaged crockery that they finally had the decency to ask me what was up. "School" was all I could be bothered to say. I mean, why should they take an interest? It's none of their business, they keep on interfering.

I'm very reasonable on mornings.

So, yes, I was convinced school was to blame, despite (As I've mentioned in a previous post, which I'm sure you've read) my awareness of my morning problems. But, shock horror, school was actually quite good. People who get unreasonably annoying later in the term were fairly reasonable, although for reasons I can't quite fathom spent the whole morning talking about golf. My friends were on form, with new jokes and crack fresh from the holidays, rather than the wearisomely familiar, slightly stagnant produce spurting from their mouths later in a term. I had a good time catching other people, was shown the same cut about five times by Aaron, and generally enjoyed the sun/company (Apart from when Emilie stole my tie. That was just cruel, it added at least another 400 meters walking to my day, ergo, added pointless excercise).

So it must have just been the morning that put me in a bad mood to begin with. Still, I can hardly come home from school and tell my family that "I've changed my mind, I actually quite enjoy school." Can you imagine the depths to which my street cred would plummet? And it's blatantly untrue. Ask me tomorrow morning when you see me.

As a quick final note, I get the feeling that, shocking though it may seem, I'm running out of decent inspiration and material for my blogs. Rest assured I will prevail, of course, and soon the feeling will have gone away, and I feel that the length and quality of my posts counterbalances the time between them. Not like the quick jottings down every week or so you'll get from my competitor blogs ;)

*If you ask me why not returns, I will probably bang your head off something, the next time I see you. I'm in a bit of a peevish mood at the moment and idiots, after all these years of fraternising with them, are starting to bore and annoy me.

Oh darn it... or maybe wayaye.

The world is divided in two. It's divided into two big sects of society, and naturally the difference revolves around me. So here we go: approximately half of this slowy dying planet's population, upon seeing me look through a car window, assume I'm casing the joint, and will soon return with my sledge hammer and rave music. The other half know fine well that I'm checking my reflection. While many of you might dismiss this as a poofish thing to do, you try living with a face like mine, i.e. a face you know is utterly perfect, yet you can't look at. You'd end up checking yourself out now and then, trust me. Anyway, I don't really need to justify myself, most people have got used to me by now.

Still, one thing that ceaselessly annoys me is the rest of the worlds blatant failure to even try and understand me. It's not really that difficult. You see, I like to think of myself as a complicated person, which obviously means I'm not. This general rule of opposites apllies to most people, although there are some people who would consider themselves simple who just... are. Anyway, now we've eliminated half the world as ageist crime fighters on acid, even amongst my own I'm not properly understood.

I think this has something to do with where I live. You see, I was talking with my Cambridgeshire bound cousin the other day (When I say talking, I mean we were just about scraping together a meaningful inter-species conversation. Compared to him, a prime example of humans' successful evolution and intelligence, I look a bit like one of those squidgy watery insecty things in the old guiness advert- woop if you remember it- or maybe just a toothbrush. He really is very clever. Anyway...) when we got onto the subject of our respective locations. While I limited myself to mildly insulting posh puns, he, in a shocking abandonement of civilty, went on and on about us northeners and our brand new hi-tech wooly jumpers, or unnnecessary lack of them.

But on the same day, I was talking to a scottish person and a person who lives quite near to me, and apparently they'd both been living under the illusion I came from down south, because of my annoying habit of using multi-syllabular words.

So that's it then, I'm a half-caste, not quite clicking with those who are older than me, the same age as me, who live far away from me, who live far away from me in the other direction, or who live near to me. Does this mean I shall be banished to the midlands where I shall be forced to be middle-aged? Oh, the horror. Hmmm, maybe, but somehow I doubt that. You see, I'm simple to understand, as we've already established. So how come no-one's got around to understanding me then? I think I've worked it out. I'm simple, but everyone else is even simpler. Apart from my friends and family. They're complicated in strange, disturbing, yet funny ways. They don't understand me because frankly they can't be arsed, and I applaud them for it.

Two last things. I woke up in the middle of the night a couple of days ago and found myself sleeping in a shoulder stand. Just thought you'd like to know. Also, in French, tights (Le Collants) are masculine and single. From which it seems to have been deduced by someone ***Ruth*** that all French men in tights are single. I disagree, I think the opposite. All single French men are obviously tight.

Hey, don't you diss MY royal family.

Hurray! Let's party! I know, I know. The Royal Wedding was yesterday. And I forgot. And lots of people have mistook my loudly proclaimed forgetfulness as a sarcastic announcement that I couldn't give a s***. Or rather, did give a s***, negatively. As disturbing as the mental image of a negative s*** is (ingrowing toenails ain't got nothing on this), the fact is I do give a s*** (I know, I'm overusing the word. Only a couple more). I'm just s*** forgetful. For any of you who've just taken a knock to the head, you're not seeing stars, I'm just profanitising.

Right, look, I'm not the sort to hang Union Jacks out my bedroom window and shed salty tears of admiration over a William and Kate mug, but I do think we owe these people a certain amount of respect. They're a Prince and Princess now, part of our royal family. And even though we all known the royal family is really a figurehead monarchy, they're still meant to mean something to us. Because they represent Britain, or England, or whatever you want to think of it as. We're meant to be proud of them. If anyone insults them, from our country or elsewhere, we go along merrily and invade them. Because we know our country's the best country in the world, and even if we sometimes wouldn't like to admit it, we love it.

I'm not talking all out lets-go-die-for-our-country patriotism. Not even walking along the street waving a flag and singing the national anthem. Just not the cynical, sarcastic way we always seem to talk about anyone in a position of authority. I hear you gasp in horror, but don't worry, I will return to cynicism and sarcasm later, I just think there's a time and a place for it. And this isn't it.

From what I can work out, there's four attitudes towards the royal family, and also government in general: 1) God, they've made a mess, I hate them all, has anyone seen my pitchfork? 2) Come on, look, other people have it worse off, wheelie bin collection isn't that pivotal to human survival. 3) Geez, I'm a turtle, why would I give a fuck? 4) -Sings national anthem loudly- LET'S GO INVADE SOMEONE :D.

The first view I can't relate to at all. If we can't help but criticise our own government, what do you think everyone else in the world is doing? The government's job, as much as looking after us, is to keep us there with the top countries. And how they going to do that if we're all having a right laugh at them and being bitchy with the first person we can grab. People who openly protest about what the government are doing that afternoon ninety nine times out of one hundred are doing it because it might help them hit the power jackpot. And our countries never going to keep up if there's always someone having a go.

The second is slightly better, but still annoys me. Why should we have to look at kids so starving they look look like drums made out of rib cages to find anything good about ourselves? The most recent statistic I could find was from 2008, so you might have to forgive me for being a couple of places out, but in 2008 we were the sixth richest country in the world. And that's out of 195/196. So we really don't have that much to complain about, and the attitude of complaining about it shouldn't be one we're even considering in the first place. So let's go blow a few million on a fancy wedding for some people we're meant to be fiercely loyal to.

-Editors note- This blog isn't actually written for turtles, and the third point of view expressed was placed their by the writer simply, and I quote "For the crack".

The fourth point of view, while to some extent slightly exaggerated is what we should be going for. I'm not saying we should put the open sign back up on the old empire idea, just maybe not complain so much. About absolutely bloody everything. And maybe hang up a few flags here and there. Go to any other country, even Scotland or Wales, as close as that, you'll see flags all over the place. Yet someone the other day was trying to convince me that putting up a flag was racist. The sad thing is I'm not even joking.

Which brings me on to my penultimate point, that the boundary between "Patriotic" and "Racist" has become a little foggy, because the last thing I want to look like is a Griffin wannabe. When I say we should remember we're the best country in the world, I don't mean that makes anyone lower than us, in any way. They can have their country, we can have ours, the two can mingle completely, and it shouldn't even be noticed as a prominent detail that someones a different colour or race. At the end of the day though, they can be proud of there country, and we can be proud of ours, and we can spend many happy ours arguing thus. Cos arguing fun.

Anyway, your eyes are probably getting tired by now, and my keyboard definitely is. And I have English to do. So, to sum up in typically anti-climatic style, yeah.

Greenpeace has failed, call in the Spitfires.

For really quite a while now, the spitfires, hurricanes, etc. have been lying around uselessly, carefully cultivating rust and enjoying the journey to legendhood. As have their pilots. If we're honest, they're all getting just a bit on the comfortable side, with their vintage couches and vintage wives. I bet if you invited your grandad to have a whirl in one of his old buddies he'd be absolutely useless. When I say old buddies, I mean the planes, obviously.

Speaking of uselessness, in our attempt to solve the whole problem of our planet dying slightly faster than is comfortable, we've had a go, and so far the massed intelligence and originality of the planet has come up with the G-Wiz and Windmills. Pathetic. Admittedly, some of the really bright sparks secluded themselves in volcanoes with foil on the inside of their doors, but now they've all gone and exploded, which is hardly going to help.

I think, after seeing off Hitler, the challenge of dealing with some of the problems wouldn't be too much of a strain on the tired old RAF fighters. Sure, they'd need a bit of practice, but I'm confident it wouldn't take very long to reacquaint themselves with all the flying and shooting.

I'm thinking of acid rain here, in particular. I did a bit of research about this, and it turns out that acid rain is fairly much a self-explanatory title. So, what do we need? An alkali, obviously, if you've been paying attention in science. Where, I hear you ask in a slightly exasperated voice, with much eye rolling and tutting, are we going to find one of those? And this is the real genius of my plan. Bath bombs.

In a gargantuan effort that had me sweating like a pig's nether regions in a shiny volcano house, I went on wikipedia and did even more research, finding that spitfires used standard 20mm cannons. This left me feeling so well informed I publicly disagreed with Ian Hislop, Stephen Hawking, Jeremy Paxman and Steven Fry all at once.

Once my ego was back to normal, I consulted the National Bath Bomb Appreciation Society's website (I am not joking), and it turns out the your average bath bomb diameter is as near as makes no difference 20mm. Coincidence? I think not.

So, you've got your Spitfires and grandads out of retirement (saving money for the government, incidentally. Ah, sometimes my genius amazes me), you've got your acid rain clouds looking evil, like Hitler, you've got your alkali bath bombs which fit perfectly into the Spitfire's guns. All that remains is to watch in awe as a terrifying yet slightly one sided air battle ensues, with clouds, bath bombs and hip replacements flying about the atmosphere. And at the end of it, people no longer have to drive cars that look and sound like genetically modified plastic kitchen accessories which have come to life. Touché.

I won't be posting for a couple of days, as I am going on holiday. Enjoy your drab, wretched lives, or at least the next couple of days of them.

Goodbye, my friend.

That's it. The end. My loyalest friend, the swingball, finally gave in what little ghost was left today. It's had a tough life, filled with duct tape, superglue and alternate affection and violent rages from a thirteen year old boy who displays an alarming tendency to when the mood possesses him hit it with a bat. This will not be a long post, as surprising though it may seem, the recent departure of a swingball from this planet does not provide much writing material for your blogger. So this is me, paying my respects and apologising for all those times I thwacked it till it was dizzy. R.I.P.

Hypersomnia

Firstly, I have to thank Ma Soeur Ruth (because she is making me) for going and buying me some milk this morning. It took some persuading, namely explaining the pros and cons of AV, the promise of a thank-you on my world famous blog, and some chocolate, but eventually she left the house, screaming in that slightly petulant way of hers that if I'd have got up earlier than 11 o'clock, there might have been some milk left, which brings me very nicely on to the point of this post.

All the way through my childhood, I have woken up at unholy hours of the morning, dragging a string of parents, siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins and even friends* out of bed with me**. This seemed, for reasons I couldn't fathom, to annoy them quite acutely. Often I would sit and wait for HOURS outside their bedroom door, until at the entirely reasonable hour of seven o'clock I would knock politely, run in, scream and most likely jump on them. On one occasion I interrupted a slightly... intimate... ritual in the making (the screaming was for another reason on that occasion), on another I landed directly on my poor tea-sipping grandma (yet another reason to start screaming). So, after quite a few scoldings and scaldings, and a fair bit of innocence lost, I learned to amuse myself. Oh, not in that way. You're making  your own jokes here, you realise? There's really no point me righting this if you're going to collapse in a fit of giggles at your own perverse humour before I've even got to the point. So yes, I really couldn't see what the rest of the world enjoyed so much about bed, even after I'd learned a bit about what some people, ahem, enjoyed about bed.

That's all changed now. I will emerge from my bedroom now at an hour so holy it has it's own patron saint, scratching the bits of me that can't be mentioned and generally looking like I'd rather still be asleep. Apparently this is called Hypersomnia, which is strange, because there really isn't anything hyper about my sleep-befuddled behaviour. It's not complete opposite of insomnia, because even if you have trouble getting to sleep you can still have trouble waking up. In fact, in a house filled with as much bloodshed and inter-sibling feud as mine***, I've often wondered while lying awake at night if I'd wake up in the morning. But that's an entirely different matter.

The problem is I'm just a bit lazy, and in the same way I know I won't have time to do the homework properly the next night, but still leave it until the last minute, sometimes not even then, I know that if I want a good breakfast, I'll have to leave the comfort and warmth of my bed. But I won't   

*Yes, I have a couple of those.
**Their beds, not mine.
***Most of the time, we actually get along really well. But when we do battle, we do battle properly.

Meine Familie

I know I said I was going to stop two posts ago this evening, but everyone has started making blogs so I thought I might do another to keep up with these younglings. For the German community, who can read the title, you may struggle a tad, as the rest is written in English. For you English people, I'm  sure you'll manage.

Right, there's a lot of us, so I'll get right to it.

Luke- The youngest, and my only brother. Despite possessing bewilderingly good hand-eye co-ordination, IT skills, and general comedy ability for someone his age, he is still six at heart. Let me give you an example. At a river today, me and Luke were playing a game where he threw a rock up and forward, and I had to hit it out of midair with another. The first half of this he managed fine, but the forward velocity required to really keep his throw safe was somewhat lacking. He watched it go up, up, up, then watched it go down, down, down. Needless to say, he didn't really think the rock posed a threat to his skull, and stood his ground with admirable bravery. In the end, his head won, he was even conscious after a couple of minutes. To get his revenge, he took the rock to the river, flung it as far as he could, overbalanced and fell in. I give you my brother.

Sarah- There's no real easy way to say this. Sarah has green hair.

Ruth- If you want to know about Ruth you should probably look at her blog (http://awesomesauceand coolio ketchup.blogspot.com/) as she understands herself better than I understand her, or would want to. Ruth occasionally taps into the life of someone poetically named Goodside10. I've never seen Ruth on her own Email, Runescape*, Google Account, etc. She always chooses to have a peek into her little friends' private life. I've put this down to her being a complete stalker. Either that or a lack of originality. Bizarrely, I'm almost certain she'd prefer being labelled the former. Lastly, she has an obsession with saying random words in a different language. She thinks this sounds clever.

Louise- Mum. While Dad's is going to be serious, I'm afraid this is going to be nostalgically sincere. I get the feeling Mum sometimes feels we don't realise how much she does. This is true, but (typically, I suppose) I'm not really to blame for it. I appreciate hugely what she does, I just don't have the ability to comprehend the enormity of her work. If she, say, accidentally fell in the cooker and died, beginning to not only heal the emotional wound but also more practically keep up with the workload and stress she goes through daily would simply drive me insane, within, let's say five minutes. There you are, Mum, but that's just about drained up my warm feeling  to the world, so you're going to have to do without for a while.

Steven is going to get his little paragraph at some other point, because it's quite big, and as I've mentioned in Mum's, my goodwill river is flowing about as fast as the concepts of danger and forward planning flow through Luke's head. I don't think it would do him justice. Bye for now.
*For the record, she doesn't play on that anymore, nor does anyone, I'd hope.