Danism
Dan: [In self-assured tones] "How often do the 2004 Oscars come around? Once a year."
Back And Forth
What a week.
It just hasn't stopped, I know now that visit to Ellon=no time to blog, a simple formula derived from my bulging math-manipulating brain. No really, it was.
The highlight of last week (beside seeing Leanne :D) was a mammoth drinking sesh with co-writer Beefy whereby a pint was to be downed immediately after either Aberdeen, Motherwell or one of six adopted teams scored. By half time Beefy was thoroughly gone so I took a 'consolation' pint to catch up. I couldn't find any half-time pies so we had to settle for cottage pies, but fear not I ordered a celebratory kebab later to maintain the good name of the Scottish Boozer! Ali Babas tried to pull a fast one and charged me Ł5 for an inferior kebab ("delivery charge" they say, although the mighty faisals do this service for free), which I paid but wasn't pleased. By this point Beefy had passed out nicely on the couch and I went to be sick in the bathroom.
As luck would have it, I missed the bowl and threw up on my mum’s white bathroom mats. It was okay; I can't be held responsible for "Beefy's" actions... ;-)
Reviving Beefy to tell him that the mighty 'Well had scored a late 84th minute winner (much to his impartiality, but in the morning he was likely crying due to a delayed reaction), we went outside into the sub-zero conditions. I forget the reasoning behind it, but in the morning there were piles of Miller tins to be found in my opposing neighbour's garden. I can't control Beefy's actions...
Inexplicably, the next thing I remember is standing on the Meiklemill bridge in my boxers and Aberdeen vest. I shit you not, I stood there looking at my goosebump covered legs and just thought "what the-". A man, who was walking his dog, then passed us on the bridge. At this moment I shout to Beefy "hey Beefy, check this guy and his dog!" He isn't chuffed, in fact he's so unchuffed that he turns about and chases us, his dog (thankfully) not being able to keep up in the snow and restricting the man's pursuit. Oddly enough, Beefy can fairly shift when the need arises; I watched in horror as he overtook me on the flat after the bridge.
After discovering that there were no capade materials in the near vicinity, we tucked to our separate homes. Sure enough my dad had locked the door, and with me having no keys I had the embarrassing duty of explaining why I was standing in the snow in my boxers and vest. Again, Beefy put me up to it.
Passing out on my bed, at 11, I slept a full 13 hours- something I haven't done for a long time. A few days later and now I'm back in Loughborough, quickly typing out this blog as fast as my fingers will agree to go before I leave for Cardiff at 1 (the travelling just never ends). Cletus was true to his word and has now moved out, leaving behind a full room for yours-truly with ensuite. I'm going to enjoy this while I can.
I wonder what his new roomie is like...
I wonder if he plays Korn's "Wake up" (lyrics "wake the fuck up! Wake the fuck up") when returning from lectures? Or Korn's twist in the evening (lyrics "you not rrrh rot dot n dot n dot per rotn dot chi cot n dot rrr ah dot dot ki o ma gri a dot dot ers a pa ta ko")? Perhaps his new roomie doesn't let mounds of beer pile up on his side of the room. I remember the stench of victory well. I left Cletus a note before I left for Ellon saying "if I find anything missing... so help me God..." I'm still looking, because I know he's done something to my belongings, I don't know what yet though. Actually, to give him his dues, he did have the courtesy of leaving behind a bible for me to wash away my "sins" with.
Or should that be wipe?
Beefy Ramblings
The following is a story I got this morning from the venerable Mr Fraser.I found it quite amusing and I'm sure that if you know about Aberdeen then you too will have a little chuckle to yourself.
URGENT NEWS FLASH
A major earthquake measuring 7.8 on the Richter Scale hit Aberdeen in the early hours of Monday morning. The Epicentre: Torry, Aberdeen. Victims were seen wandering around aimlessly uttering, "fit i fuck wiz at min?" and, "did yi fu'kin feel at min." the earthquake decimated the area causing approximately Ł30 worth of damage. Several priceless (ie worthless) collections of momentos from the Balearics and Spanish Costa's were damaged beyond repair. Three areas of historic burnt out cars were disturbed. Many locals were woken well before their Giros arrived.
Grampian News reported that hundreds of residents were confused and bewildered, still trying to come to terms with the fact that something interesting had happened in the locality.
One resident - Tracy-Sharon smith, a 15-year-old mother of 8 said: "It wiz a fuk'in shock min, ma little Chardonnay-Mercedes cum runnin' intae ma bedroom greetin'. Ma youngist two, Tyler-Morgan and Megan-Storm slept through it a' min. Ah wiz still shakin' fan ah wiz watchin' Kilroy the next mornin' min."
Apparently though, looting, muggings and car crime carried on as normal. The British Red Cross have so far managed to ship around 4000 crates of Sunny delight to the area in an effort to help the stricken locals. Rescue workers are still searching through the rubble and have found large quantities of belongings including benefit books, jewellery from Elizabeth Duke at argos and bone china from Poundstretcher.
HOW CAN YOU HELP?
This appeal is to raise money for food and clothing parcels for to aid those caught up in the "disaster." Clothing is most sought after, the most needed items include Fila or Burberry baseball caps, Kappa tracksuit tops (his and hers), Hillfiger shellsuits (female), white sport socks, flourescent Adidas trainers and any other items that can usually be found in Primark. Food parcels may be harder to come by but are needed all the same. Required foodstuffs include microwave meals, tins of baked beans, pot noodles and cans of Colt 45 or Special Brew. 22p buys a biro for filling in the compensation forms, Ł2 buys chips, crisps, battered Mars Bars and blue fizzy drinks for a family of 9, Ł15 will pay for a packet of B&H and a bag of smack to calm the nerves of those affected by the "tradgedy." Please do not send tents for shelter as the sight of upmarket accommodation is viewed as unfair on the populations of Woodside, Logie Place, Northfield, Seaton, Froghall, Kincorth and Tillydrone.
The Challenge
Sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.
Put your right foot out in front of you and rotate it clockwise. Now, with your right hand start drawing a "6" shape in the air. Providing you're not a circus freak, your foot should start to turn anti-clockwise. Curious, isn't it?
UPDATE: I just witnessed Dan pull it off (he must have some crazy hidden musical talent) on his first attempt. Which proves everything I have said.
Fire Drill #9... Or Was That #10?
So it came. The one night of the year where the more sadistically-orientated members of staff get their power-fix in the name of 'regulations'- the obligatory 6am fire drill.
Do you remember in primary school when the teacher would make you stand juxtaposed in a line and you wouldn't get to move until everyone had held their stance for a full half minute? It was a lesson in obedience, but more importantly it gave the smug teacher a sense of domination, as she'd tug your strings and make you obey her pointless commands, the master puppeteer if you will. Hey, there has to be some perks to the job.
But when you go to Uni you expect to break the shackles of demeaning exercises like these, yet it seems like no matter who you are there's always someone with the capability and will to make you jump through hoops. These people are born bastards; their only motivation in life is to assert their authority over anyone and everyone who they can. You know the type- the type of person who'll make you explain in detail why you're not where you should be, someone who will actively follow you to make sure you put a wrapper in a bin which you dropped, the type of person who will drop anything worth while they were doing to make sure you perform a purposeless, and often degrading, task.
Until now I hadn't met any such person, I truly believed I'd left all the Mrs Stuarts of the world back in Ellon. I was about to be proved horribly wrong.
After a large night out at the Union I stumbled home pissed to fuck, munching on a Mario's kebab and using the huge Towers as a visual handrail towards Butler. Eventually I found my way to the flat, and immediately began defrosting some chicken and chucked some chips into the oven. I must have passed out on Cletus' bed for a while (he stormed through to the kitchen after I looked him in the eye and swore I was going to barf on his pillow) before Tom awakes me.
"Al, your chips are ready."
"Uhhh" I reply, dragging my feeble body through to the smoke-gathering kitchen. I throw in some Chicken Tonight into the sizzling pan, which soon turns a murky shade of brown. "Chicken and puke" Dan quips, referring to the lumpy brown 'liquid' that had transformed from the creamy Chicken Tonight into a disagreeable, foul-smelling paste. For all I know it could have been my puke, but I eat it none the less. It was bitter and disgusting, but thankfully an opportune tin of Carlsberg that I'd saved for such an emergency washed away the unsavoury taste.
Two O'clock came and I was dozing like a Shattered contestant, presumably naked because that's how I woke up, just four hours later. You see, at 6 O'clock precisely the fire alarm went. And you know what happens in these life-threatening circumstances? I block my ears with my pillow. As per usual.
But this time some irresponsible youth wasn't guilty for tripping the alarm as has been the case the previous 9 or so times. It was the annual 6am fire drill- just in case the daytime ones hadn't taught us how to casually walk out of a building. I cared not, I strengthened the grip on my pillow and began humming to myself to drown out the offending noise.
Then there's a chap on the door. Cletus, being the goon that he is, opens the door to let the sub-warden in.
"Wake up you!" she says chirpily, loving every minute of it, scampering down the hall to dutifully wake up everyone else who presumably weren't awoken by the ear drum-bursting alarm. I refuse outright, and return to humming.
Five minutes later and she's back.
"Hey, get up! Come on!" She's beginning to sound like one of those annoyingly enthusiastic fat camp leaders you see all the time on tv.
I blaspheme, but under the screeching alarm it goes unheard- probably for the better I realise now. She leaves again, and I prematurely announce victory, satisfied with my resilience. Little did I know she would come back a third time, clearly creating some personal vendetta against me getting any sleep whatsoever.
"Get out of bed!" she asserts yet again. I can see she isn't going to leave me be no matter what, so I get up and cover my shame with the pillow. I slip on some trousers and meander downstairs, the very last person to vacate the building. Would that be the end of it? Oh no, the sub-warden isn't through with me yet.
"Write your name here" she says, passing me a sheet of paper with half a dozen names of people who similarly tried to beat her persistence. Clutching the pen, I write "Justin Bed" and scrawl an over-exaggerated elaborate signature. Even at 6am, it seems, it's possible to be sharp. I chance a smile at her as I pass the pad back, and head over to my flatmates who are cursing me for "holding everyone back."
"I'd rather die than get out of bed" I tell Dan, but somehow he seems to think I'm joking and laughs. Approximately 10 seconds after vacating the inferno, and we all go back in. I stare at the bitch who made damned sure I got out of bed for no reason, but she's too busy with a group of fuming students with 9am lectures to notice.
I have an impending feeling that I'll be seeing the warden in the near future, my sixth sense deducing it will "not be good news." Thank God I've got a house lined up next year, because with the whole Cletus incident and now this they have ample reason to boot me from the premises.
If it comes to it, I'll fall back on a) ignorance b) cultural differences or c) boys-will-be-boys, and then give a cheeky well-meaning smile. No one can resist the smile.
Or maybe I'll fall back on last-resort option d) sex with the sub-warden.
No one can resist the sex.
White Ninja
Dabby introduced me to the delights of White Ninja Comics the other week, an abstract comic strip that taps directly into our (deplorable) sense of humour. It's so weird you'll wonder how they come up with it, White Ninja is the funniest comic since The Far Side- even surpassing it, I might add.
Yes, this is shameful filler... but I'm tired and have a 9 o'clock lecture tomorrow, the four words than send shivers down any student's spine. How I hate those mornings. Find below a few White Ninja Comics:
The Cletus Cam Awards!
Alas, all good things have to come to an end. We are approaching the end of the shelf life of the Cletus Cam and entering the phase known as "decline." We've had a lot of laughs along the way and many a merry time, but in order to secure a sequel we have to kill the project before it becomes stale. I know it's unfair, but rest assured- when Cletus moves out it will become the [insert new room mate's name] Cam instead!
So to mark this sorrowful event, what better time than to announce the Cletus Cam Awards! We have literally been inundated with contenders for the prestigious prize but in the end there was only one that was going to win. You eagle-eyed viewers have clearly been hooked to the 'Cam like a hooker on smack and have caught Cletus at his very best!
To give these glamorous awards the full BAFTA makeover, we thought it necessary to add accompanying award music! Press play below to add music and set you in the mood for some of the best moments the Cletus Cam has to offer! And, without further ado, here are the Cletus Cam Awards in their entirety!
The Traditional Cletus Award
Cletus at his statuesque bestThis photo sent in by Mark portrays almost perfectly the same grim pose Cletus has held for almost an entire week now. Perched firmly on his seat, Cletus glares at the iluminated screen, mesmerised by its alluring glow. He sits transfixed for hour after tireless hour, tapping away gently to communicate with his inter-continental pals (read: faceless nobodies). Cletus sure does love his pc, with a sort of psychotic passion that is well endowed on the obsessive few who walk amongst us. The Absent Cletus Award
Cletus plays hide and seekOn the rare occasion when Cletus wasn't at his desk, this is the view you'd have seen. Note how strikingly similar it is to when he is asleep. Best Supporting Cletus Award
Send in the cleanersA tough one to call this, but in the end the judges gave the award to Jack's fine effort. Only once a week do the cleaners make an appearance, but Jack managed to snap one in the act of cleaning our hero's desk! Marks were awarded for clarity of shot and timeliness of shot, as the cleaner literally does only appear for 5 minutes each week. Watch as she stoops over to give Cletus' desk a good seeing to, making sure his work-space is spotless for the evening ahead. Jack's dedication to the 'Cam is admirable, especially given that Cletus wasn't in the room at the time. Most Unlike Cletus Award
Ahh, what happened to the room?!This award was originally going to go for Cletus acting out of character, but as it transpires Cletus didn't do anything out of character all week. So instead the award goes to the man who is about as morphologically different as is genetically possible from Cletus, our man Jibba. Here Jibba was caught taking a momentary glance away from the lens, filling the entire screen with his goatee-brazened face. Best Cletus Impersonation AwardPhoto currently not availableOk, so no one in our flat is of the same racial origin as our esteemed suspect Cletus, but the closest representation goes to flatmate James Atkinson. To simulate the benevolent Cletus, James donned a pair of his Harry Hill glasses and looked at the man himself. Umm, not identical, but close enough. The judge’s verdict is final. Most Shocking Cletus Moment
Squint if you can't seePerceptive viewer Alan Wales spotted this almost unnoticeable alteration to the desk that has been the talk of Loughborough. At first it appears like an ordinary shameless financial journal, but closer inspection reveals it to be the January edition of lad mag "Nuts!" Cletus has obviously been taking a sly moment aside to tap into his masculinity (if only for a brief spell) away from the camera's limited field of vision. Further proof that nothing escapes the 'Cam! Overall Cletus Cam Award Winner!
Cletus plays shadow puppetsIn the end there was absolutely to competition to match this hilarious entrant from Cletus Cam-loving Tom Banks! Above is the picture that had our judges in stitches, showing Cletus at his very best. With his room mate gone, it was the opportune moment for Cletus to refine his shadow-puppet making skills which would surely be replicated at choice pub moments for the hilarity of his cohorts. Here we see the beginnings of a "Rampant Rabbit", as Cletus attempts to form the advanced manoeuvre. Cletus proves conclusively that the fun never stops in the Mumba household, and that even something as innocent as a wall can be a source of amusement during hard times. To our winner then, a pint of Addlestons from the upmarket Moorings! The prize can be claimed between the Easter period and there is no cash alternative.
Gone For The Weekend
I'm gone from friday morning through to sunday evening, but the Cletus Cam will be on all the time! And if it duffs up... blame Mark, he's taking care of it ;-)
BUT if you're having a bad weekend let me lighten it up with this hilarious soundbyte from Cletus!
The Trum Cletus Show!
Ah, what can I say about my trusty room mate Cletus Mumba? He's a thoroughly decent chap all in all, albeit with some crazy views on our origins and destination as a species. As a room mate he's completely unique; stories abound of his near life-time supply of tins in his cupboard (Cletus hoards with the best of them), his strange and often disturbing upbringing, and even his demeanour has been the topic of much speculation in Butler Court social circles. Heck, Cletus even went to the extreme of losing an appendix last weekend, and there aren't many people who can say that. Cletus is a gift that the Gods of blogging material have sent, to ensure me and my reader's everlasting entertainment.
Given Cletus' completely irratic and unpredictable nature, as has been well documented on Starsite, I readied myself to tell the lads of Cletus' latest belief-beggaring antics. They would laugh, oh how they would laugh, and almost cry at the harrowing tale I had to tell. The story would seem tragic and amusing in equal measure, and would mark a turning point in the pity balance shown to Cletus and myself. Currently they pity Cletus, having to share with a room mate as unforgiving, uncompromising and dirty ("Squalor", the cleaner's call my side of the room) as my good self. But all this would change.
Yet, it was almost as if I had swapped bodies with Tom (phat tom) for a brief moment as I began to tell the tale I had to tell. They weren't looking at me, they were looking through me. It was with as if they'd predecided that the next thing I had to say was an elaborate ruse, set out only to uphold them as being gullible. Everyone stood in the kitchen humouring me, acting like everything I said originated from a bull's ass. "Hmm, yeah, sure, whatever you say Star" I could hear them jibe as I reached towards the pasta after finishing my tale.
"Fine, don't believe me" I asserted almost instantly, squeezing the sealed container cathartically like it was a revolver. "Oh, it's not that we don't believe you" Dan would say, I'm sure, were he present. Instead they stared. They think I, perhaps the very definition of honesty and virtue, would spin shit to gain a few cheap laughs.
"Don't believe me?" I questioned, looking over my shoulder from the boiling pot. Again they blanked me out, trying their best I'm sure to keep a straight face. "I'll show you", I finished, my voice quivering from the pent-up aggression that only such monumental disbelief brings, storming out the kitchen.
"Oh, I'll show you..." my voice curtailed, the cogs already turning in my head.
[That same afternoon and Star is plotting in his room, drawing blueprints and sniggering like a madman that it would later conspire he actually is]
"Yeeeeees, yeeeessss!" I cry, flooding the room with a chilling psychotic ambiance.
[The door flies open- it's Dan and Mark, wielding spatulas and a baking tray, Dan wearing an inverted sieve on his head and Mark a wok as a make-shift shield]
"Don't worry guys" I announce, swivelling in my chair to face them, stopping the hapless heroes in their tracks. "It's complete."
The two stand flabbergasted, looking at each other with uncertainty. Mark, the dominant one, pushes whimpering Dan behind him and produces the spatula from his socks.
"Please, put your weapons down, we're all friends here" I say, inviting the couple to sit on the adjacent bed.
"Biscuits, anyone?" I ask, placing the tray casually on the bed. Dan reaches over to pick one up before Mark slaps him round the head. "Oww, that smarts" Dan exclaims, rubbing his throbbing head and looking enviously over at the tray.
"You're probably wondering what I've been doing all afternoon... n'est pas?"
Mark nods, as Dan looks over to his mentor and starts nodding his head spasmodically, imitating the action to avoid another clip round the head.
"It all started in the kitchen" I begin, leaning back in my chair. "I told you of Cletus' newfound obsession and you laughed. You've seen parts for yourself- he sleeps for four hours, and spends the rest online."
Mark chances a grin.
"Stop that. Last night he was online from 12am to 10am, 10 straight hours" I affirm, to avoid any confusion. "Today, he woke up at 5am- yes, you heard me right, 5am- and was online through to 12. Obsessive? Perhaps. Unbelievable?"
The question is left rhetorical.
"Well now you can see for yourself- the Cletus Cam is open 24/hrs per day. There will be no interference from me, you can see for yourself the truly insane routine he's keeping. At a rough estimate, he spends 12 hours each day online- most of it during the small hours."
"Buuh" Dan interrupts, "QUIET YOU" Mark screams, smacking him good across the head. Dan sulks for a while, looking at his shoes. There is a brief silence, before Star adds:
"You'll see for yourself. The cam updates every minute, I invite you to wake up early and witness it for yourself."
On this note Mark rises from his seat, and leaves saying "we shall see", before making an exit. Dan leaves dragging his knuckles against the floor, scratching his head and humming the Fireman Sam theme tune.
Star swivels his chair to face the monitor again, making fine adjustments to the website. "Life of an addict?" he ponders. "Yes, I like that: Life of an addict" he confirms, typing in the newly thought name and shutting down the computer, until the live launch at 8. He adjusts the webcam ever so slighty and wanders out of the room with a coy smile on his face, waiting for his unsupecting target to return to his side of the room...
+ The Cletus Cam is open every minute of the day for your entertainment! Watch as Cletus spends copious amounts of time at his desk, and marvel at the life of an addict! Watch in awe as Cletus goes to bed at 7pm, wakes up at 12am and spends an awe-inspiring 8-10 hours online in one sitting! Cletus is completely oblivious to his new stardom, unlike the fakes on Big Brother and I'm A Celebrity! Who knows what madcap antics he gets up to when alone in the room?!The Cletus Cam refreshes every minute, but it only changes if you refresh the page. If anyone is up at an unusual time, like between 2-7am then write on the tagboard if you see Cletus! There's a prize for the person who spots cletus online at the strangest time! Press "print screen", then paste it into paint and send it to me over msn at fluent85@hotmail.com (my hotmail inbox is full so you can't send it there). There will also be a prize for anyone who captures cletus scratching his balls, or doing something stupid! Good luck!
Cletus Cam- A Brand New Low For Reality TV ®
LOL
Hahahaha! You schmucks, ran the minute you were rumbled. Keep trying you pathetic fucks, ALL of Starsite's files have been backed up and copied to another location. Go on, do your worst, you 'hacking' nerds you.
You tell me who won- I see them, they run!
As Dabby said, "defeated nerds... is there anything more pathetic?"
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