The corner of the internet where you should probably turn around.

Monthly Archives: March 2013

I have walked past this shop’s sign a few times now, and each time I have found myself laughing at it’s impeccable irony…

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‘Here for you this Easter’ beside a conspicuous and (almost) painstakingly protruding ‘CLOSED’ is an unmistakable contradiction of admirable advertisement.

Hats off to customer service!

 

 


In today’s post I plan to retell an amusing anecdote that relies upon an angry woman and the very definition of ‘perfect timing’…

It was a Wednesday afternoon, other students and I were studying in the study room. Yet, as usual, it was far from a peaceful image of students working hard as you may have expected.

In fact, we were all sufficiently rowdy enough to spark the concerned attention of a particular member of staff who consequently entered the room, turning us all to silence.

Her stern look, however, suggested that it wasn’t simply a matter of needing us to be quiet, rather, we were in need of re-thinking our unruly ways and needed to be told so.

She ended her short lecture- still in the perfect silence of the rest of us- by suggesting ‘it would be a good idea to work in total silence from now on’.

And it was at this very moment that, I can safely say, one of the most epic and exceptionally timed occurrences, occurred.

For it was at this very moment that the student’s silence was obliterated by an unsuspecting ‘OOOOOOOOOH YEAHH!!’

Suddenly, all heads were turned at the guilty party.

The room’s eyes were met with the sweetest, most humorous sight I suspect I shall ever see.

Poor old Will had been sat -so engrossed- in his computer studies with headphones so tightly tied to his ears that he hadn’t even realised the teacher’s entrance, our sudden silence or his unanimous stares.

Of course it wasn’t long before he got an overdue elbow-nudge by a fellow student but I think it’s fair to say that at this point the damage had been well and truly done.

Oh how we tried to -somehow- refrain our laughter!!


#1 Fox Hunting

One of the United Kingdom’s greatest traditions and quite frankly the worst. Fox hunting is an inhumane and grotesque form of cowardice fun. Although it was banned in 2005, it is still legal as a form of ‘pest control’ and consequently practised throughout the country. Why should leisure be lethal?

#2 Tea

Although we’re renowned for our tea slurping, I can not stand the stuff! In fact, simply envisaging the stereotypically English ‘tea and biscuits’ sends pure shivers down my spine. Bleurggh.

#3 Yorkshire

My home county, and quite bluntly, one of the least fortunate and backwards places to have grown-up in the British border. (I’m pretty sure that fire was just discovered last week.) Not even the ‘Yorkshire pudding’ can make up for the unforgivable bigotry that shrouds the area and gets carried on through the Yorkshirey genes like a disease.

#4 The persistence of ‘class’ culture

Basically, I have an inherent disliking of the snobbery that still lingers through the ‘upper classes’ in the British Isles. Most directly has been the occasional encounter with students from public schools who always seem to carry such airs along with their crease-less blazers. But perhaps what sticks out the most for me is how my fellow state-students and I were classified as such during a regional competition: ‘Wow, and you’re from a state school?!’.

#5 ‘Friends’ off the air!

One of the most tragic days of my life; the day which friends got taken off the air and left the television a skeleton of the brilliance that it once was. Now all there is to suffer through is the mindless soap operas and the shopping channels.

Bloomin’ heck Britain!


It’s not surprising that a few people who stumble on to my blog from the wider corners of the internet are unusual , to say the least. Weird, after all, attracts weird.

Yet, as I see the accumulation of odd (and slightly unsettling) search engine terms on my ‘Site Stats’, I have concluded there is a line between unusual and darn right balmy.

Don’t mistake this for bragging, rather, I am deeply concerned for the welfare of the mind of quirky internet-user.

Some key examples of this would be the following terms;

-‘freezing cold naked snow girls’

-‘used knickers’

And my personal favourite…

-‘plague doctor porn’.

So, according to this list I am a used-lingerie dealing pornographer accommodating to the historically creepy and those who prefer their women cold.

Well, it’s not exactly what I signed up for but it’s catchy nonetheless!


When the spillage of cranberry juice completely dilapidates an entire essay and you find yourself more devastated at the amount of wasted juice as opposed to all those (now) wasted hours of work, I think it’s fair to say…

 

I have a drinking problem.

 

My shameless cranberry juice army. (Now recruiting!)


As my body continues to be bound by the ailments of the ill, my mind is left to drift amongst the more despairing of possible thoughts.

For example, have you ever thought that you were going to die?

I have!

In fact, I was so sure that I wasn’t going to survive my Iceland trek last summer I even wrote a woeful will and hid it somewhere in my bedroom before my departure. Presumably, for my heartbroken family to stumble upon after the news of my decease and somehow be less sad, or at least more content at the realisation that their Anna was a complete idiot anyway for leaving them such a thing!

The worst part is that I can’t actually remember where I put it.

So I figure that either I will find it in around ten years and the whole scenario will feel like one of those films where the protagonist realises -due to attending their own funeral etc- that they are no longer alive and have become a ghost. This of course will be followed by me alarmingly asking the next person in sight if they can see me and if I’m alive– which will inevitably lead to them concluding that I have completely lost it.

Or someone else will find it, see that I am perfectly alive, and will think that I have completely lost it.

Perhaps, therefore, I should start writing the will of my sanity.

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And there’s me looking more alive than expected in Iceland!


So, like many people this time of year I have been given the invaluable gift of illness and consequential bed-locked torture.

It’s the sort of cold that when anything touches you it feels like daggers shooting through your skin.

My head feels like someone is filing it with sandpaper.

It’s probably for the best that I leave it at that and refrain from sharing any similes of my sinuses, however!

 

But of course, being bound to a mattress all day does lead to some inevitable mindful pondering.

For example, I was just thinking about freedom and safety, and which of the two is more important.

But which is it?

If only my immune system could have concocted such strength in the face of my enemies!



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