Noel Edmonds for President

Too much of anything can make you sick,
Even the good can be a curse,
Makes it hard to know which road to go down,
Knowing too much can get you hurt

Since I last posted an entry here I've graduated, gone to the Western Isles and back (which was rather incredible), moved back up to Glasgow and started my new course. With the recession still biting harder than a Mike Tyson ear-lock, leaving Glasgow Uni and trying to sell myself with a Geography degree would have been too risky, so instead I've taken the MSc in Geospatial and Mapping Sciences, which is longhand for Geomatics, which is longhand for Surveying, really (with a bit of GIS). I could have written a whole host of Blogs about all this, but in the summertime I couldn't really be bothered, and with the increasingly ludicrous demands of my course, I wouldn't have the time now. Thanks to my move to Maclay Halls, however, I now once again have the base in Glasgow which I crave. That sounds a bit evil-genius-ish, like I sit in an underground lair plotting the downfall of the world like the bald guy in Austin Powers (not Verne Troyer), but all I really need is a central base from which I can live my life in this magnificent city as it continues to educate and pay me. And, apart from the THIRY-FIVE (35) minute walk to work, it is one heck of a central base. If I only I had the money to buy a bike. Still, five and a half grand's quite cheap for Halls, isn't it? ISN'T IT!?!


Bald: Troyer

Yeah, still don't understand women though. I have at least tried to open up a bit over the summer, as people have been telling me for as long as I can remember to liberalise my somewhat binary outlook on the situation (which goes along the lines of: 1/0; yes/no; obsessed/don't care about her). Basically, instead of viewing women as some sort of left-wing/right-wing attractive hybrid of Hitler and Stalin, I should view them all as Nick Clegg. I felt it was starting to get somewhere as well: I wasn't matching Christiano Ronaldo's success rate, but I was being viewed with a little less suspicion than before, and vice versa. And then I was set up, which put me back to Square One. I have to open up around women more, rather than shying away from the slightest edgy comment and pretending I find any innuenduous conversation low-brow. Well, they are low-brow. But they're good though.


Clegg: Great personality

I know where I want this to go,
Drivin fast but lets go slow,
What I dont wanna do is crash..

When I took a brief break from the Course From Hell, I made sure to watch bumbling racist Nick Griffin  faff about on Question Time. While I understand people's concerns about the 'baying mob' mentality, and changing the format to deliberately try and destroy him looked counter-productive, I'm not sure it could have worked any other way. Could you honestly see David Dimbleby turning to issues such as the recession and the war in Pakistan and Afghanistan, huge as they are, with a man with a conviction for inciting racial hatred on the panel? How would that have worked exactly?

Dimbleby: "What about that Fred Goodwin eh? What would a BNP Government have done with him?"

Griffin: "Well, David, at least he didn't have dark skin."

It would have proved impossible to move beyond the issue of race, given that the BNP define themselves by their desire to cure Britain of its current "racial impurity", and given that they're only changing their constitution to allow non-White members because of the threat of a court injunction. The only way we were all going to be satisfied was if the panel and audience deried Griffin for the whole hour for being facist scum, and that's pretty much what we got. Let's just hope it doesn't lead to martyrdom status for Griffin, and we can vote their racist asses out of Brussels next time.

Saw a couple of tits at the weekend. John and Edward were also on ITV1.


Interesting pair

Random annoyances of the summer: The ridiculously high pollen count in the first two months of said summer. The last two months of said "summer". Kenny McCaskill trying to look like Obama II with his over-the-top Megrahi speeches (they were funny, but I'm not sure they were meant to be). People with aggressive sounding sneezes. Simon Cowell and the X Factor desecrating the fantastic auditions stage with an arena of fools. Hardly anyone playing Blame it on the Boogie, clearly the Jackson Five's best number, and plumping instead for the oddly over-rated ABC. BBC3's obsession with showing the anti-FCC episode of Family Guy. (There are other episodes, you know. Dozens of them). The loudness of my sink in Maclay. And idiots sellataping together £5 notes and handing them to me at work, expecting me to accept them as legal tender. I do, but only because of my meekness.

Got to see Nerina Pallot again at the Oran Mor, then had one of those surreal 'lolZ-its_like-their_NORMAL-ppl!!1' celebrity moments at the end (Honestly, I feel like I'm capable of anything in that building: maybe next time I'm there I can bring Michael Jackson and Diana back to life then interview Stacy Keibler or something). Anyway, Nerina went off stage at the end of an emotional performance of Sophia, during which she was so touched (steady) by the crowd's rendition that she actually began to break down in tears. In an act of concern, I decided to hang about at the end and see if she'd sign autographs. Right enough, five minutes later I'm stood at the bar, leaning on it like the Mask when he has that dream about Tina (let's not talk about The Mask, shall we? It never happened). Who comes striding towards me but Nerina, with a huge smile on her face? I figure this will be my one and only chance to say something cool to her. But I usually botch these things, and that's with non-celebrities too.

Me, leaning on bar: "Great gig, great gig."

"Nerina, walking past: "Thank you!"

One-nil. Best part was, hubby didn't see it.

Random geniusness of the summer: Getting paid six days a week for some banter, characters and good times at Somerfield (see above). That might be only part of the story, of course, but it's the part I'd rather remember. Also, the unforgettable week I spent touring the Western Isles, which will be getting a Blog of its own if I have any time. Not having to live in the Library anymore. Returning to said Library and discovering the newly renovated haven of the Level 3 Annexe. U2's unforgettable concert at Hampden. Most of the mainstream media, aside from the glossy magazines, finally ceasing to care about Peter and bloody Katie. And getting a room wider than 2.30m at Maclay. People of Kelvinhaugh Gate, you have been royally screwed on that one.

It may well be another five months before I can write another one of these (I know, not exactly worth the wait), due to the hideous over-booking of the Course From Hell. But I will maintain what I said at the Induction Week: when it's all said and done, I will do everything in my power to get a good grade for this. In Geography I spent the last year in cruise control heading towards a 2:1, and it was difficult to feel the pride that you're supposed to feel at Uni. If, however, I can get a Pass with Merit/Distinction, it will not only net me a lucrative job of some sort (well, here's hoping), it'll rank as the proudest moment of my life bar none. Not unless I can, I dunno, get someone divorced before then.

We gotta fight, fight, fight, fight, fight for this love,
If its worth having, it's worth fightin for...

Current Location: Maclay Halls, Glasgow
Current Mood: crazy
Current Music: Nerina Pallot - Everything's Illuminated!