That ws very... er... Starsky & Hutch

Yesterday, my friend Michael and I went and saw the new James Bond movie: Quantum of Solace. Absolutely fantastic movie, and a very good bond movie. They have managed to make a truly 'non-stop action' movie, but with a significant enough plot, that it's not just all about destroying Aston Martins, running across roof tops, or flying old planes over deserts. Anyone that doesn't see the plot is clearly an idiot. For me however, two major draw backs.

The production destroyed 14 Aston Martins. As such, you would expect to see it make up a major part of the movie. In fact, the Aston Martin doesn't feature after the second or third minute! 14 Astons destroyed for two or three minutes of film - that makes me angry. Secondly, despite having a really good title theme (which would be even better if the singers didn't open their mouths), the whole film has a crap soundtrack. The soundtrack makes a movie for me, and there was almost no soundtrack that made an impact.
[IMAGE MISSING, BECAUSE I CAN'T GET AT MY EXTERNAL HARD-DRIVE]
Overall, 4 Escorts out of 5: Fantastic film, but poor soundtrack usage and wasteful use of beautiful Aston Martins.

The film was great, as was catching with Michael. What wasn't great, was having to go in Michael's girlfriend's car - a purple Fiesta. Very nice for young ladies to be driving, but a bit... homosexual for two men. Despite travelling in the gay-mobile, I was even more upset by something else. Whenever we go out, I always look scruffy (having made no effort), and Michael looks great (often wearing a suit or a decent shirt). So, I decided to make an effort - even ironing a shirt. Michael had had the day off work, so looked as scruffy as I usually do. Bugger.

On the way home, in our gay mobile, we stopped at Brighton Asda to get some shopping. Michael and Amy needed some stuff, so Michael agreed to pick it up on the way home. Two men, in Brighton, in a gay car, shopping together (one of the me dressed in a decent shirt and leather jacket, the other a little scruffy). What would you think? As we finished at Asda, I was just about to get back into the car, when I said loudly 'Time to go back to our wives and girlfriends', thus dispelling all thoughts that we might be a bit... doors swinging the wrong way.

We did have fun in Asda though. Being very late, the shelves were being restacked. Boxes and roll-cages everywhere. One of the aisles was completely bloccked by a roll-cage on one side, and cardboard boxes on the other side. Never mind, I learnt all that I kow from Starsky & Hutch, and they were quite fond of barrelling through boxes - so that's what I did with the trolley (much to the amazement of the staff).

Lastly, in times of such financial crisis, it is important to find ways of saving money. As I was eating lunch yesterday, Holly pointed out some money-saving ideas that she found in her 'Love it' magazine. One idea was to spice up an old lampshade with... post-it notes! No fire hazard there I suppose.

Another idea was to save money on dinnr parties, by making your own after-dinner mints. Simply freeze a tube of fancy toothpaste, and slice it up. I immediately pointed out, that if they were left out of the freezer too long, the end result might be a bit... sloppy? Whilst I was telling Michael about this idea at the till in Asda's, the ladie next to us in the queue pointed out that the end result might also be a bit... frothy? Lastly, Michael looked at the mints for sale at the checkout. A fancy tube of toothpaste is probably going to cost more that a 39p packet of mints anyway - so the whole point of the exercise is wasted. I don't know why we bother.

Working hard... well at Top Gear anyway...

Picture the scene. I was quietly sitting at my laptop on the quiet individual study floor of the library, at the desk by the window. It is a scene of complete calm and serenity. As I sat there at my laptop (glasses on for extra intelligence), two of my friends bounded up. At the moment we all have a metric crap ton (approximatly 1.65 imperial crap tonnes) of work to do. Holly and Kat had made alot of headway on the physiology assignment, whilst I had written the methodology for both physiology and water based. They had told me that they were going to put in a full hard days work today, and that they intended to do the same tommorrow. Fair play to them.

Now, as I was saying, they appeared at my desk, and it was 3.30. 'We're going back to my place to watch Jeremy Kyle,' said Holly.

'I thought that you said you were putting in a whole day's work today,' I replied somewhat bemused. I knew that I would be in the library until 6, having started at 10. After stating that they had put alot of effort in today, Kat went onto say that they'd be meeting early tomorrow.

'Well,' said Holly, '10.30 anyway.' To me, that's not early. A full days work is 9 to 5, maybe later! 5 hours is not a full days work. After having a good laugh, and turning down the invite to go and watch Jeremy Kyle with the two beautiful young ladies, they left (spending time with beautiful young ladies is good, watching Jeremy Kyle is bad - I think the two even out, so I'm not quite gay for not going with them [unless 'watch Jeremy Kyle with us' is a euphemism for something else... bugger, should look into that]).

Anyways, that left me free to get back on my laptop. And finish watching Top Gear on BBC iPlayer - now that's a full day's work...

What now!?!?!?

It started off as a reasonable day. Late start at Uni = lay in! If only the day had continued so well...

I left the house for Uni at 12 (which spookily was about the time Thunderbirds finished on Sci-Fi), intent on finding some slide binders for the NTC safety regulations, and having a luxury McDonald's lunch (and people wonder why I'm not in a relationship, when I live such a high life). Bing bang bosh, arrive at Holly's house for 1. Nah. I went to Staples, Rymans, WHS Smith, and even Woolworths (I was desperate) looking for these damn slide binders. None big enough.

So, aggrevated with that, I rode off to McDonald's, and then waited the rest of time to buy a value meal. I walked in, and though 'yes, only three people in front of me'. Silly me. I kid you not, the 4 people at the desk ordering didn't change in 10 minutes. I don't have a clue what was going on. All that I know is that serving people they weren't. After 20 minutes, I eventually received my burger. Which was okay.

And onto to University, or not. I got stuck at the level crossing. I got stuck at the level crossing for just long enough to receive, read, and send a text, write my dissertation, produce an award winning novel, read the complete works of William Shakespeare, and invent a new form of theoretical quantum thermonuclear biodynamics. After all of that, the gates were still down. So, I restarted my engine, to go another way. Y'all know where this is going. I got 100 metres away, and , yes you've guessed it, the gates went up.

All this made my quite miserable. Still, doing 6 mph up the narrowest lane in the world always cheers me up. (for legal reasons, all speeds in this document have probably been changed by a factor of somewhere between 1 and 10, but for legal reasons, they may not have been - I think that clears everything up).

Something more interesting (and a trip to the zoo)

More interesting, you say. You also want another mention. Well you're just not going to get it.

Firstly, a bit of scandle at University. One of my friends (Holly, I gave you a name mention) is a warden of one of the halls of residence. We have lunch together on Wednesday's, and I meet many of her residents. As Holly is the warden, all problems get reported to her. One of her residents came in, looking a little embarresed. 'My bed is broken' she said. Before all of your filthy minds race (as mine did), she explained that it's been dodgy since she moved in, and that as she sat down on it, one of the legs finally broke. To complete the scandle, her boyfriend, one of Holly's housemates, and also a presenter of Top Gear (he's a lot taller in real life), came in later, and admitted that the bed had 'definately got worse'.

I also went to a zoo this evening. I have been told that the last time I attended a meeting, my comments on this blog may have been rather... close to the knuckle. Well, it was a public meeting. But my trip to the zoo wasn't. So I can't make any amusing comments about how all the animals were fighting with each other. Apparently, some of the animals have been fighting the same arguments for years. I thought Darwin's theory of evolution said that one would finally come out on top, and survive, but many of these animals were old. In fact, maybe it's less of a zoo, and more Jarassic Park?

Anyway, the zoo keeper stopped many of the fights, and I only spent a short time there. It would have finished earlier, but I opened a can of worms to add to the zoo, and the zoo keeper had to have a severe talk. Unfortunatly, it was to one of my more favourite animals (and I am fond of several of them). There was also quite a vicious attack from one of the slothes (it's amazing what energy they can find, and how much trouble they can cause), and several of us did do our best to defend the victim from the attack. I just have to wonder what animal I will turn into, if I keep going to the zoo?

I think I coped with that well, and hopefully been entertaining as well. If you'd like to complain, please send your complaint in full to the BBC (they're getting quite good at receiving complaints...).

Dull, dull, dull, dull, dull...

And once again I find myself writing a blog post instead of actually doing some work. You would not believe how dull my life is at the moment. No, even duller than what you think. Worst still, it's November, and I'm beginning to notice that I get miserable every November. So not only am I leading the world's dullest life right now, but I'm also feeling grumpy and miserable.

But in other news, I found out that my University, and the barmy people/ homosexuals from the art and dance and music department, are putting on an 18 hour non-stop performance. Firstly, who in their right mind would agree to that? Secondly, who in their right mind would watch that? As you all read my blog, I guess you're the kind of person who may want to watch it, so here's the link: www.chi.ac.uk/vexations. If that wasn't odd enough, it says that the performance is being directed by world famous concert pianist such and such, Head of keyboard at the university. I don't know about you, but I find two things odd. If he's a world famous concert pianist (I have images of a huge grand piano), why is he only head of keyboard? Keyboard! Also, if he's so great, why is he directing, and not playing a keyboard or piano or something?

I told you my life was dull. (although I did get one assignment done yesterday, now making 2 out of 5)

I think that might have been a mistoke...

Sally hew clanging lust obe latter on tach ward teally corks un that I an prying bo ray! Tor examtle, 'string winds' instoad if 'strong winds'. Thunks tor mointing thet oot Sian.

Just a quick brain-teaser for Monday's post (because bugger all happenned). If you can work out what the above says (and no it's not some sort of old dead Latin), why not proove it by putting it in a comment. I'll reveal the corrupt answer tomorrow.

Also, I didn't really write this post in an attempt to avoid doing any work...

Am I the only person that can tell the time?

Well, a week into this new format CATCOUK, and I think we're doing well. I even had some comments to read (even if they were full of the worst, and lowest grade of joke known to mankind, so bad in fact, that they are considered a health hazard).

I know I'm writing this Monday, but I was up until 1.30am last night (or is that this morning) finishing and printing an assignment for Uni. But I had to write a few words about yesterday. I had a conversation with the Commanding Officer of our Nautical Training Corps unit (the fantastic TS Intrepid) about what time we'd be meeting for Remembrance Day Parade. Brian finally said that we would meet at Lancing station at 9.30am. Fine.

So one would think it odd, that when I appeared at the station, all of the cadets were there, and so was, most remarkably, the Commanding Officer, Brian. Brian is never on time, and I settled long ago that I would have to factor in that he works on a different time zone to the rest of us. But here he was, five minutes early (it was 9.25 you see). I got out of the car, walked over to the cadets, and they were all tapping their wrists (like watches), and a couple of them saying one of my favourite quotes 'Five minutes early is on time, on time is late!'

What were they talking about? I was five minutes early. Or was I? Put all of the pieces together: all of the cadets there, all of the officers there, and most dammingly, Brian was there. The bugger had only chnaged the time we were meeting on the paperwork he gave out (that I didn't get). They all met at 9.15. I wouldn't have minded so much, but when we spoke on the phone, that's the time I said we should meet (that Brian said was to early). Scumbag. Sir.

Also, I had to print out all of the really exciting new safety regulations for the NTC. I had been told to meet some of the National Council members at National Headquaters (NHQ) at 3pm. So I was there at 2.55pm, in the very string winds, and rain. At 3.30, they finally arrived. That doesn't sound so bad, but I had to park a long way away, so I had to stand outside in the cold the whole time. My life is just too exciting - why aren't there hundreds of women lining up to date me?

Ernie's not really a morning car...

As you should all know, I am a University student. One of the many joys of this, is that I get to run really dull - I mean exciting tests in the University's labs. This morning, for one of our assignments, we had to run a lab test. It started at 7am. Well, living half an hour away, and having a fairly minor role to play (and being so enthusiastic about it), I said I'd be there at 7.30, still in plenty of time to start testing at 8.10am.

For a change, I was up, and out of bed in plenty of time (dark and early at 6.30). Had some breakfast, washed, and threw on some clothes. All ready for the day, laptard in hand (it's starting to get... very... very... slow), I jumped in to the glamourous Mark IV Escort that is Ernie. Turned the key in the ignition, and got... moom... moom... moom moom moom... moom... moooom. Bugger.

The battery is in desperate need of replacing. Once he's going, Ernie has really regained all of his power. Waiting at a roundabout earlier this week, I got bored (after 3 or 4 minutes of waiting for a break in the traffic). So, seeing the smallest of gaps that even my bike would struggle to zip through, I employed some Jeremy Clarkson mentality (no, not make an inappropriate joke about lorrie drivers killing prostitutes), and put my foot down. Wheel spinning onto the roundabout, I got through the gap, and left the roundabout before you could say 'classic car'.

Anyways, I have digressed. So, flat battery. Very early in the morning, so no-one else is up. No jump starts then. But for Christmas, I bourght Dad one of those 'Jump Starter Packs'. I thought I'd just use that. Where's the obvious place to look? In the garage? Back of Dad's car? On charge in the hall? Next to the old dead pack, still on charge in the conservatory? Of course not. When Dad came downstairs 15 minutes later, I had over looked (and you haven't thought of) the most obvious place - in the kitchen, next to the microwave. If you can tell me why it would be there, put your answer on the back of a postcard, and send it in...

Flora of Sussex!

Not a very exciting title, but I am going somehwere with this. You may, or may not be aware, that at University, I am also known as Flora. Although it sounds like a strange nickname, I really miss not being called Flora when I'm not at Uni. The name comes from my first year when I was (and still am I hope) very pro-active (get things done, be helpful). So, after the popular margarine, I am called Flora (pro-active).

At the moment, I am identifying 20 plants for a collection as part of one of my University assignment. It's very exciti... Sorry, I fell asleep there. What was I saying? Oh yes, so I am doing this plant collection, and I wanted a book to help me out (no Sian, this isn't cheating, but how I use the book to complete my collection may be a little underhanded). The Universities two libraries have some books on Sussex plants. Our two libraries have a grand total of... two books. One of which is in deep and darkest storage. So the book I ended up with is called (thinking about the title)... that's right - Flora of Sussex.

When telling my friends at University, several chuckled, and asked if it was a book about me (as I am Flora, and I am from Sussex). Having thought about it, with a title like that, it does make my nickname sound like some comic Viking Invader... Flora of Sussex!

Well that was quick...

Having spent all day researching plants, I was really looking forward to going to Guildford Torchlight procession. It has to be the best band parade that we do. After getting a few suprise cadets join us, and weaving our way through the diabolical traffic, we eventually got there. In a record 10 minutes, we were ready to play alongside our sister ship, Implacable. That was the quickest we have ever set up, but we did have lots of help form Implac.

Anyways, onto the parade, and we messed up a little. First of all, we marched off (as you would expect), but a tad too early. Too early in fact for the radio car that was supposed to lead to join us. God knows where he ended up. Needless to say, they weren't impressed with that. We also had somewhere near to a million side drummers. Because side drummers are simple folk (glad I moved to playing a brass instrument), they just tapped away. With so many of them, it was almost impossible to control them. So they got faster and faster and faster. Apparently, we marched this year's 1 mile parade in just 25 minutes. 15 minutes quicker than last year! Well, I hope we aren't that fast for Remembrance Day, or the old veterans are going to get a shock...

Where's Lee?

One of the most remarkable thing about us University students, is our ability to confuse matters, and work on a completely different time zone. We had a lecture at 1, in a certain room. One student (the 'gadge-miester' as one of our lecturers refered to him) went to the wrong room. When he arrived, and was asked how 'S9' (the wrong room) was, he replied gloomily, 'a long way away.'

But better still, at around two o'clock, after we were into the lecture properly, and we had all forgotten about wondering where Lee was, Lee walked in quite merrily. After cheerfully greeting the lecturers, he made his way to the back, and then stopped in mid-stride, realising something was off. The entire class was staring at him, and the lecturers waiting for some sort of reaction. To be so late, and offer such a small apology, Coley would have to make some comment.

Looking around cautiously, and detecting something was up, he asked 'have I missed something?' After a ripple of laughter, and told what time the lecture actually started, a Vikky Pollard-esk (from Little Britain fame) 'What?' was heard, followed by even more laughter.

After being an hour late (which was kind of understandable, as last week's was at 2), you'd think it couldn't get any worse. But that was when Coley made yet another comment 'So if you thought you had to be here at 2, you're still 5 minutes late. It's 5 past.' What a pillock. As my friends in America would say - EPIC FAIL!

A busy day doing... er... what?

Well, this post a day thing is working well... So I'll write two to catch up. I've still got to get used to it.

Monday, Monday. Tell me why, I hate Mondays. It's just another manic Monday. All tunes with Monday in the title. All summaries of my day. But I ask you this - on a day when I didn't go to Uni, how on Earth did I end up stressed and busy? I tried to get some of my dissertation done. I'm at the stage when I have to do alot of reading, and write something meaningful. Typical isn't it - I spend two hous looking for anything remotely useful (or even vaguely interesting), and when I finally get something, I have to drive to chuffin' Brighton. And that took over 2 hours!!! Then I settle down for some dinner before band, but instead of eating it, I have to organise a cadet that can't get himself to band. Then after band, I have to run around Lancing dropping off shuffleboards, picking up band dressings, and attending a Lions meeting. And to top it all, what do you think happenned just as I arrived at the Lions meeting - yep, they finished the meeting. Fan-bloody-tastic.

CATCOUK is going on a diet

Hello all. I think we can all agree that I simply don't have time to sit down for an hour on a Sunday evening, and write a load of dribble to entertain the masses. But instead of calling it a night, and in an attempt to provide you with the 'entertainment' that you want, this blog is going bitesize!

'What does this mean?' I hear both of you ask. Well, I will try and write some very short posts every day, so that if you want to continue reading weekly, you can. And there should be a couple of amusing things waiting there for you. But this new style also means that you can drop in daily, and pick your daily dribble. So, like a talented MP, I have made something crap, sound very appealing.

Sorry if you don't like the plan, but it's that or nothing.

And I can't write a post without a quick tale from my world. As many of you will know, in February I was promoted at NTC to a Commander, and made the organisation's Adventure Activities Director. As such, I have to attend many boring meetings. For example, I have just been told that I have to attend Chief of Staff meetings. I didn't even know that those kind of meetings existed! And I'll probably just sit through those meetings being very bored, and listening to old people argue with each other.

But the recent National Council meeting I attended was better entertainment that watching EastEnders. Alright, so every National Council meeting can beat crappy ol' EastEnders, but this one was on a par with Top Gear. One guy was making his report, when he said 'I have been recieving letter upon letter upon letter from a bloke in Fareham saying that he wants to open an (NTC) Unit. [Regional Commader for the area's name] - what is going on?'

'Well,' replied the regional commander, 'I know the gentleman in question, and I wouldn't recommend him as a CO.' At this point I have to say that unless he's a kiddy-fiddler (and I hope he isn't) he can't be worse than the current CO there - there isn't one! But that's besides the point. It's not like the NTC needs to open more units or it will die...

'Just one minute sir!' replied the boss in a raised heated voice. I use the term boss, as there are at least three people that fit that category, so I leave it to you to guess who. I want to protect his or her identity for a change. 'There is nothing wrong with him. I know him too, and I think it's more a case that you just don't want to open a new unit.' Arguments happen quite alot, but everyone was watching intently. But little did we know that the best was yet to come...

The aggrieved boss continued 'He's not scruffy, although I am sure he let's him self go from time to time.' Okay, still nothing that entertaining, but here it comes. Remembering that he's the boss - 'As he's a relative of mine, I know him very well.'

Oh dear me, the look on everyone's faces was a picture. The guy who started the report went fish-faced, I was struggling not to laugh, and the regional commander look like he had shrunk by 3ft, probably because he was sweating so much, and looking so red. Absolute classic. Understandably, no one said a word, as the two continued to argue the point. This was just too entertaining. Eventually, the regional commander was practically ordered to have an interview with the new guy. Fantastic.

Well that's it for now. Don't forget, with a bit of luck, I'll have a short one for you tomorrow (and yes, I do tell all the girls that...).