His stillness was total. The epitome of comfort, Max Mousesniffer slept as he had for the previous three hours; the twitching of an ear and the odd grunt, the only sign of life.

It was hard, being eleven and carrying the mantel of Best Cat in the ENTIRE World, but he fulfilled his duty with great aplomb, maintaining his energy levels by sleeping for all but two hours of the day.

His waking was signalled by the opening of an eye. He perused the annoyance that had arrived: “Oh, it’s that mong, Otto. One-eyed fucker. Wish he’d piss off and stop acting such a dick.” With a stretch, a yawn and a scratch, Max Mousesniffer adjusted his position and returned to sleep, a spot of dribble suspended from his mouth.

…And so it begins. I think I’m going to start a new blog in the style of the diary of supreme feline being, Max Mousesniffer (the name was Herge’s idea).

It’d be great to know what our pets think of us. They probably think we’re all stupid: “What is it with getting up at the crack of dawn, getting yourself soaking wet, blasting your head with hot and noisy air and leaving the house for TEN hours a day when you could just stay in bed and get up to mither a bit of food from the Can Openers? People are idiots.”

They’re such creatures of habit though. You get up at 5.30 or 6am during the week and they’re impossible to move. Otto insists on sleeping next to me; it’s lovely having him cuddled up, but because one side of my bed is against a wall, I have to get past him to get out of bed. He’s like a sulky teenager if you try to shift him before 6.20am during the week, but if you’re not out of bed and getting his breakfast by 6.30 at the weekend, he comes mithering me to get up. He starts by trying to be subtle, sitting on the windowledge and looking through the gaps in the blind, then trying to get his entire head through the gaps to see what’s going on outside. This results in the shuffle…. bang… bang… bang… shuffle of cat stuck in venetian blind and venetian blind against window. When he gets bored of his squirrel tormentors, he jumps on the bed and starts to tap my harm – nice and soft at first, then followed by the subtle hint of claw… tap, tap, scratch. So you get up to feed him, and he leaves it anyway, but comes back to bed with you once he’s satisfied that you care about him. Little bastard.

It’s such a lovely thought knowing that while I’m sat here, knackered and so very tempted to shut the office door and put my head down for an hour, they’re all at home, curled up on comfy chairs and beds.

Is everybody coping with autumn as badly as I am? So very tired and fed up.

Bloody blog’s disappeared again.

That’ll be Hallowe’en or “Trick or Treat Night” if you’re stupid.

I’m quite looking forward to having the kids coming round to disturb my tea with their pathetic renditions of “We’re witches, of Hallowe’en, oooowwooooh. The scariest you’ve ever seen…”. I’ve a mind to have two prize bags: one filled with delish sweets and chocs and the other into which I’ve emptied a couple of cans of cat food for them to dip their mucky little paws into.

Failing that, I might turn off all the lights in the house and stand right in front of the window, staring out into the black night. Or I may dress as a monk and hide next to the front porch and chase them up the garden path, making ghoulish noises. Or perhaps even goulash noises.

On the radio this morning, they were going on about “How will you all be celebrating Hallowe’en?” – do you celebrate Hallowe’en? Personally, I “celebrate” it by spending the evening opening the door to begging dwarves who steal all the chocolate that I bought. All the time trying to look amused and scared by their outfits. I’d be scared if one of them was dressed as my French teacher from secondary school – she was mighty frightening!

Bloody hell, Kate Bush has done a cover version of Sexual Healing on the B side of King of the Mountain. How bizarre.

So yes, Lancashire is quite famous for its witches, funnily enough. They burned a load in Pendle and Clitheroe.

It’d be quite good if there really were supernatural beings that emerged every Hallowe’en; I’d quite like to meet a ghost and have a conversation about way back.

Actually, I wouldn’t. I’m fucking TERRIFIED of the thought of seeing a ghost. No idea why, but I am. It goes against all my beliefs, and my logic tells me that there’s no such thing as them. I suppose that’s why I’m really scared of seeing one. (Cue April).

A matter of life and death
Just had a distribution list “Awwww”/”Read this, it’s really hilarious” e-mail. This one is entitled Animals are really people in disguise, sent with HIGH PRIORITY, READ ME IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE I’M REALLY IMPORTANT! status. Animals, people in disguise eh? I think that’s pretty insulting to animals.

I get a lot of e-mails at work and it’s my preferred method of communication because it means you a) don’t have to speak to people and b) have documentary evidence of information that you’ve given to folk. Some people INSIST on sending all their e-mails with those little red high priority exclamation marks on them. Fuck right off. Nothing’s that important and if it was, you’d be either phoning me up, or knocking on my door and hand delivering it. Nobheads.

The equivalent of this in the office is putting papers on people’s chairs so that the would-be occupant can’t take their seat before picking up the oh so very important bits of paper that have been put there. I’ve informed my colleagues that stuff gets put on my chair goes in the bin

I am truly a joy to work with.

Run like the wind!
Does anybody know what a runtime error is, why I’ve started getting them and how to make them FUCKING STOP???

…me and my hog

Mars is supposed to be quite close at the moment; the closest it’s been for years and will for 13 years. I don’t understand planets and space and crap like that, but I do like to have a look at these phenomena when they occur.

Of course, being in the UK my enjoyment of such events usually amounts to a big fat ZERO because of clouds and street lighting and stuff. Not knowing where to look (except “up”) doesn’t really help either.

Step back in time
Clocks go back tonight, thank fuck. If I was a proper single person, I’d be out clubbing till about 4am and the change back to GMT would give me another hour to enjoy myself. As it is, I’m just looking forward to an extra hour in bed.

Of course, I’ll need my rest because tomorrow is the big day for my: maiden bike ride. It’s going to be wet and windy (now, there’s a surprise), but it should be fun.

As far as two-wheeled torture goes, it seems that having a bike is quite the in thing at the moment. When April mentioned dusting off her bike and taking out so she could piss people off, I kind of pictured her on a sedate Miss Marple type of thing. How wrong I was, she’s got a fucking monster! Apparently, it’s also very “in” to refer to your bike as a “hog”. No idea on that one, pheraps somebody could explain.

Toxic soup
It’s soup season. Well, when all you have for your lunch at work every-fucking-day is a minestrone cup-a-soup (Bachelors, mind you), it’s always soup season, but it’s now proper soup season. Got back from my abortive and hungover trip to the shops to find that Mum (awww bless her and her axe-wielding ways) had made a pan of soup – an excellent cure for the ill effects codeine metabolites. It was delish and not at all toxic, but it provides a good link to Funny Thing’s blog, “Toxic Soup“.

If you can forgive her for being Welsh, you’ll find that this is actually quite a good, well-written and funny blog. I didn’t think the Welsh could read or write, but there you go. She gets extra Brownie points for hating pink and girls with dolls.

Voice of an angel
Not an earth angel, another WELSH angel, of all things. Is Charlotte Church Welsh?

Charlotte is a young woman who found fame as a little girl, singing things that you’d hear in churches and the like. It was all very sickening and she was far too sweet. Anyway (I’m hearing heavenly choirs again), she’s all growd up now and I quite like her: she smokes; goes to the shops in her slippers and I also think she has a fab voice for pop music. She’s a touch naff, but she sings effortlessly.

Not like the fucking terrible Joss Stone, who is quite frankly, talentless and very boring. She’s developed for herself one of those husky rock voices that she belts out. Joss dear? sometimes you can try a bit too hard, love. Give up.

New CD
And now for your amusement, the track listing of a new CD that I’ve just burnt for myself:

1. In between days – The Cure
2. Hung up – Madonna
3. So good – Rachel Stevens
4. Lola’s theme (extended vocal) – Shapeshifters
5. King of the mountain – Kate Bush
6. Too funky (that’s me!) – George Michael
7. AKA Only time – Lemon Jelly
8. Hallo spaceboy (Pet Shop Boys remix) – David Bowie
9. Once in a lifetime – Talking Heads
10. Crazy chick – Charlotte Church
11. Lola’s theme (radio edit) – Shapeshifters
12. Superfly guy – S’Express
13. True blue – Madonna (not sure how that got on there)
14. Pump up the jam – D.O.N.S. feat Technotronic
15. Freak like me – Sugababes
16. Love on your side – Thompson Twins

Freaky mixed up shit, but it’s OK for the car.

I’m off outside to look up.

Fear, anxiety, worry, fright, horror, trepidation, terror, dread, apprehension…

Of these synonyms, we’re lucky in that we rarely, if ever, experience horror, fright or terror. However, we all encounter fear, to some degree or another. I’ve been asked write something about my top ten fears, but I honestly don’t think I have that many. I’m scared of trivial things, but there are only a few things that I really worry about that I know I would never want to experience.

Losing my parents
Not in terms, of not being able to find them, but in terms of them dying. It’s one of those things that I’ve always dreaded since being very young and I really don’t want to contemplate a time when they’re not around, to the extent where I’d prefer to die before them. If only they weren’t so fucking annoying, then I’d be able to appreciate them a bit more while they’re still here.

Losing my independence
My family and friends are under strict instruction to switch off the life support if I ever end up in a situation where I’d be faced with losing my independence (for example, if I became quadraplegic following an accident). I also have a fear of developing some sort of degenerative conditon such as Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s or MS, mainly because you’d know that you’d eventually come dependent on others, but there wouldn’t be much you could do about it.

Being alone in old age
I don’t really have anybody and although this is fine for now, I’m a bit scared of having nobody around for companionship, or even somebody to care about me, should I ever reach old age. I like my own space and my own company, but I find I tend to go a bit mental when I don’t speak to people. It’d be nice to find somebody to settle down with, but I really don’t think it’ll happen.

Dying scared
Death doesn’t worry me. I’d be OK dying tomorrow so long as it was quick: I’ve done all things I ever wanted to do and, quite frankly, I’ve had enough. However, I really don’t like the thought of dying in a situation where I was scared, for example being kidnapped, tortured and murdered, or dying trapped somewhere like a car that’s been submersed in water or is on fire.

Being homeless
I don’t really have a home of my own, I live with my folks. This can be a nightmare, but if you look on the bright side, it’s reasonably comfortable, my cats are here, my parents are generally OK. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being homeless, it must be bloody horrible.

Being in constant pain
I’m pathetic and I told cope with pain very well, I would hate to have a condition that meant I was in constant pain.

Going bald
Seriously! Some might think it would be a blessing with my hair, but I would really hate to lose my hair.

Other things that I’m scared of

1. Spiders and creepy crawlies
2. Noises at nightime
3. Unfamiliar situations
4. Heights
5. People invading my personal space

Gosh, that was a cheery old post!

PS Did you get the title? Cake Fear, as in Cape Fear? Fuck, I’m wasted.

Seriously, I’m completely wasted. I’ve got a terrible codeine hangover and I feel fucking dreadful. Went for a walk to the shops earlier, had some stuff to buy and was stood in the queue at the till when I realised that I’d not brought any cash or my bank card with me. Turd.

…400th post

Is this going to be something special? Nah, is it heck. It is going to be a short list of only a few items, detailing why I’m happy at this particular moment.

1. Dear Herge is back with something brilliant. I was so very pleased to see that he’d posted yesterday evening and it looks like a break from blogging has done nothing to stem the flow of his creative juices. Anyway, for those that haven’t experienced Angry Chimp, what the hell are you doing reading this crap? Get over there, find the archives and start right at the beginning, way back from February. You won’t regret it, I promise you.
2. I am happy because I’m having a codeine moment.
3. My finances seem to be getting settled at long last. Down to only £1000 on credit cards (only!) and my car loan.
4. Max is on the bed next to me, he’s gorgeous.
5. The clocks go back tomorrow night and we all get an extra hour in bed on Sunday morning.
6. I have managed to keep to my promise to get back to the gym – at last – I’ve been twice this week. Plus I’m going for my first bike ride on Sunday – really looking forward to this.
7. I’m going to see the League of Gentlemen stage show on Tuesday.

Such a lame post.

OK then, 6 things that I’m happy about, but there are hundreds of things that I hate about my life – really major, arse-ache things, but I can’t do much about them.

You know when you’ve had a cut and it heals and the scab gets itchy, but it’s still sore? I’ve got one on the back of my hand and it’s getting right on my tits.

And you know when you’re doing a bit of exercise and you can feel something giving and you should stop, but you don’t? Well I felt my knee tweak at the gym earlier and now it’s fucking killing me.

Grief junkies

I recall posting something about this sometime shortly after the 7th of July terrorist attacks in London, but there’s something going wrong whereby a large proportion of people can be classed as “grief junkies”. These are folk who jump on any bandwagon after a natural disaster, death or murder of a child, terrorist attack – for some reason, they need to demonstrate their grief for people they’ve never even heard of, let alone met. I’m at the other end of the scale and, rightly or wrongly, tend not to care.

Because of the tragic events involving fans of Liverpool Football Club, the people of the city are used to trauma and grief. And, not wanting to say anything out of turn against the victims and families of the Hillsborough disaster, there were a LOT of people who, with the loosest of connections, really jumped on the grief bandwagon and have stayed firmly on it ever since. This type of person revelled in the retained organs scandals at Alder Hey Children’s Hospitals and they loved every second of the kidnapping and murder of Ken Bigley (who I don’t think had lived in Liverpool for decades).

Rightly or wrongly, because of the grief junkies who have hijacked certain events, people from Liverpool have managed to get themselves a bit of a bad reputation for wallowing in the sorrow of others. And this is a very roundabout way of getting the main point of this rambling pile of crap:

Tributes left for a dead chicken
Flowers and tributes were left in an alleyway where the body of a mystery dead baby was found – before police realised it was only a chicken foetus.

A member of the public discovered the remains in a back alley in the Anfield area of Liverpool. Police cordoned off the scene but soon realised that it was not a human but a chicken foetus. Well-wishers had laid more than a dozen bunches of flowers at the scene, along with cards and teddy bears.

Local gossip
One of the cards read: “RIP Little Baby. Safe in the arms of Jesus. From someone who is a loving mother xxxx.”

Merseyside Police told the community on Monday to “stop grieving, it’s only a chicken”. A spokeswoman for Merseyside Police said: “It seems a member of the public saw the remains of a foetus, which possibly resembled a human foetus, and called us.

“We cordoned off the area to investigate, as we would with any possible suspicious death, but it became apparent it was not a human foetus.

“The flowers and cards are obviously the result of local gossip, but we can assure people that the remains were not human.”

Conservative MP and editor of The Spectator Boris Johnson was criticised last year after commenting in the magazine that Liverpudlians were “hooked on grief”.

The problem with tasks at work is getting started in the first place. Given a blank sheet of paper, it’s sometimes difficult to get those first words down. You have the overall idea of how something should look, but how to build sentences, paragraphs and all the rest?

Sometimes things are made complicated when you have a finished product that you need to modify, or customise for a particular setting. Faced with a huge document that needs adapting for this locality, my initial thoughts are “Fuck, where do you start?”. One factor that’s making the task more difficult is that I’ve got the PDF and not the original files; although I have Acrobat, it’s a complete fart to use it to edit large portions of a document – another thing to give me an excuse to wait until next week when I can retrieve the stuff from my other base.

So I’m left contemplating. No, it’s not as grand or constructive as contemplating, I’m left like this:

Of course, I could just get on with it and the day would fly by, but it’s much more fun setting the world straight with the wonderful Marie. Marie is a 50-odd year old, straight-talking Scouser, who I see as a sort of “auntie” figure. I just managed to share my feelings on my disinterest in society – a disinterest that some might call “hatred” – before she had to leave for an hour or so. In a short while, I shall leave for a trip to the local shopping centre where my “disinterest” in society will be fuelled by the skewed spectrum of the population that patronises the place. Time to see if Jamie’s School Dinners and associated bandwagon jumpers have had any impact on the consumption of pasties and other savouries; I think people are moving on to Subway because they think that “assmbled before your eyes” equates to “healthy”. Tsk. What difference does it make? It’s people’s choice what they eat, let them get on with it.

Tackling underage criminals
Good to see that the management of the afore mentioned shopping centre are tackling the problem of unruly children head-on. They’ve installed a cage in the centre of the shopping area with 10 foot high chicken wire fence that the screaming monsters are locked into. I think it may have an electrified floor too because there was a lot of jumping and sqealing going on. EVEN BETTER was the contraption down which children are hurled from an upper level. I’m not sure what they land on, but judging by the screams, I think it might be a spike pit or acid bath.

I was going to take a photo of these torture chambers, but I fear I may have been charged with infringement of these dwarfish criminals’ human rights.

Missing
Notice anything missing from this picture?

I’m not sure what’s wrong with people when they go to the shops; it’s as if they lose all common sense and awareness of their surroundings, thus becoming the most irritating, punch-deserving fucktards that ever walked the earth.

Or perhaps it’s just me that comes across such utter mongoloids on my (increasingly) rare trips out amongst fellow “humans”. I wish life could be more like cat world, where they just about tolerate each other at best, but generally have a good old scrap with ones that piss them off. No need for false niceties, or holding things in, just go for it and slap the fuckers that wind you up. Quick slap: they know they’ve pissed you off and go away to consider how to alter their behaviour; you can move on and forget about it.

Ahem…

Having returned to that beacon of retail wonder, Costco, to conduct a successful transaction for contact lenses, I’d had a wander round and picked up some stuff to buy (if you’re interested: new winter coat; dried prunes; pizza for tomorrow night’s tea; plums – can’t go wrong with shopping lists). I’d also had some more fun trying on specs – still not sure, hum-hah. Anyway (choir of heavenly angels sings out: “Ahhhahahahhh, fay-vour-ite woooo-oooo-ooorrrd”), me and Mother (awwww) made our way to the till….

All the tills were fairly bustling and ours had 2 sets of shoppers in front of us. The first set loaded the conveyor with their stuff and the second pair of people stood there, in front of us, oblivious to the fact that there was a space the size of, oh at least a huge pizza, on the conveyor for them to place their soul purchase of a bottle of screen wash. And they waited, and waited, not paying attention. Worse still, they were stood a good metre from the end of the till and it was so tempting to jump in front of them with our very heavy items.

Why don’t people pay attention to what’s going on? I’m not advocating that people push up against each other and rush other shoppers, but fair’s fair, get a fucking move on, for fuck’s sake.

It reminds me of a time….. the sound of a harp as the scene fades, we’re cast back to January and a novice Cakesniffer had just returned from Tesco…


Supermarket etiquette

I love Tesco! However, there are certain things about supermarkets that I cannot stand. I went to my local store this evening and the thing that always hits me there is the laziness of the customers: this is evident in the car park, with trollies strewn all over the place, taking up parking bays – all because people are such lazy bastards that they can’t walk the 30 or so yard to the trolley park. Stupid twats. I think it’s quite a well-to-do area (in comparison to where I live) and some of the customers must find that sort of thing beneath them. Either that or they’re just inconsiderate and lazy. Second annoyance is changing stocks: you’ll go there for ages, get used to a certain product and then you’ll find it’s been discontinued. I always find this with hair styling products and it really pisses me off – why do they do it? My family also became rather partial to Tesco’s own brand chilli peanuts over Christmas and they too have been discontinued. There were a few confused and forlorn-looking punters scouring the salty snack aisle while I was there. A popular snack – gone! Yet there’s a whole bloody aisle given over to Easter (25th March) and bastard Valentine’s Day (14th February – I’m not bitter). I’m not just knocking Tesco for this premature assault of goods on its customers because all the supermarkets do it, but I wish they wouldn’t. The year passes quickly enough as it is without bringing things forward months in advance. It won’t be long before they start selling Christmas things again.

So I negotiated the shop (and they only had organic papardelle) and got to the till where the woman in front of me waited till she’d paid and my own goods were being scanned before she decided to think about packing her three items very slowly. I told the lad on the till to hang on a minute because our stuff was getting mixed up and she gave me such a glare. She was so slow and fucking retarded, but looked bright enough to know better, I could’ve killed her. All my stuff had been scanned by the time she picked up her bloody stuff and pissed off. I think she was one of these hippy types who refuses to be rushed by the pressures of the 21st century, but she was coming close to getting a slap – that’d have brought her into 2005! Stupid bitch. Then I got charged for three cans of borlotti beans and not two as I’d bought. Still, I should get them for free because of it.

I think I’m going to e-mail Tesco and tell them to start stocking their chilli peanuts again – they’re DELISH!

You see, ten months on and I bet Tesco have started stocking those chilli peanuts again in readiness for Christmas. I shall investigate.

Oh, another film theme? No, I’m about to put folk out of theirs by revealing my answers to the true or false statements.

Here goes, ahem…

1. I refused to meet one Health Secretary and was abusive to another. True. While working in my lab, I received a phonecall from another part of the hospital to say that a research poster of mine had won an award and I was to be presented with a certificate by then Secretary of State of Health (top health minister in UK), Frank Dobson. I refused to go, but was told in no uncertain terms that I had to and was essentially dragged along to receive the award. It was horrible. A couple of years ago, I encounted Dr John Reid (another recent Health Secretary). He and his entourage wanted to use the room in which I was holding a training session and I told him that the room wouldn’t be free until the time which had been agreed beforehand. I was accused of being abusive.
2. I have engaged in sexual activities in the workplace. True again, but I’m not elaborating.
3. When I was a student, I had a regular summer job in an abattoir. False. (You don’t know what an abattoir is April? It’s where they kill animals for meat). When I was a student, I had a summer job as a chemist in the QA labs at a factory that makes huge batteries and things. It was good fun. You wouldn’t get me anywhere near an abattoir.
4. I was once run over by a horse. True. I was backstop at rounders and had to retrieve the ball from a nearby horses’ field. While in there, I was knocked over when a horse got a bit excited. Another horse jumped over me and clipped my knee with its hoof. It really hurt.
5. I have broken into a house to retrieve my cat. True. Max is a complete dick and keeps getting himself locked in houses when the council have workmen in doing rennovations on unoccupied properties. I had to break into the same house on two separate occasion to get the little shit back. The workmen always left the doors open for him to escape, but he hid under floorboards and things because he was scared of them. So he always ended up getting locked up again when they went home at the end of the day. As it was weekend (on both occasions), I didn’t want him stuck in there for over two days so I went in to get him – once through an open window and the second time by using the key that they thought they’d hidden under a stone.
6. I have lied under oath to protect a friend. False. No, I’ve never been called on to do this. But I have told the truth to protect a friend and that was possibly more difficult.
7. I used to play bass guitar in the school band. False. Although I was in a guitar group with a load of my teachers, we all played accoustic (badly).
8. I don’t always brush my teeth before going to bed. Guilty as charged. I always intend to brush my teeth, but if I take a can of pop to bed to finish off, I won’t brush them until I’ve finished it and sometimes fall asleep before I do either. Tut, tut, tut.
9. Driving at 30mph pisses me off and I only slow down if I know there’s a speed camera. FALSE. I’m actually a stickler for the rules of the road and I always try really hard to drive at the speed limit in urban areas (although I get really annoyed with drivers who drive under the speed limit). Motorways and dual carriageways don’t count though.
10. I am an alcoholic. True, believe it or not. I have always had a very rocky relationship with booze and used to drink a fair bit every evening. I gave up 6 years ago and am now teetotal.
11. I once offered to be a surrogate mother for my sister. Hell no!
12. I have never eaten cottage cheese. Truth! Why would anybody eat this shit? It looks like puke, for fuck’s sake.
13. I have met the Pope. False. Although I have stood at the foot of tomb of PJP2 – and all the other dead Popes for that matter.
14. Drunk at a Christmas party, I called my boss Jacob Marley and told him to fuck off. True. My boss had actually left us, but returned to have regular updates, one of which was on the day of our Christmas do. Unfortunately, he’d really pissed me off at the meeting and, tongue loosened by a couple of litres of house red, I told him what I thought of him (or so I’ve been told). Despite the fact that he’d left, he kept coming back for one leaving do after another and this is where the Jacob Marley thing comes from. I said, “You’re just like Jacob Marley you…” And when asked why, I said, “…because you keep coming back!”. Not an episode that I’m particularly proud of and I couldn’t apologise enough. In spite of everything, I had and still have a lot of respect for the man and it was a rather childish, if highly amusing, thing to do.
15. While at university, I considered taking holy orders and joining a convent. Get outta here!
16. When I was a student, I stole garden furniture from the halls of residence that neighboured our flats. Absolutely true (and there are photos somewhere too). Not only did I get a garden umbrella and chair, I also got a police “no waiting” cone in which to prop the garden umbrella. During my time at University, I also acquired: a beer keg; a shower curtain from the Union; an 8 ball.
17. I was evacuated from Marks and Spencer in Manchester city centre the day when the IRA blew it up in 1996. False. I was supposed to be going into Manchester that morning, but I got up late and I was in the bath at the time when I heard the bang (6 miles out).
18. I have been engaged to be married. Have I bollocks!
19. I was arrested during the Poll Tax AND student loans demonstrations. Nope, I took part in none of these demos. I’m not the demonstrating kind and I didn’t really have an argument against either the Poll Tax or student loans.
20. I graduated top of my class. True indeed. I have a first class honours degree in biochemistry and I won the prize for being the top swot. This pissed off all the girls who’d spent 3 years in the library while I’d been making time to enjoy myself as well as study.

So there you have it.