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» Letters they'll never read

Dear Terry,

I want to thank you for all the hours of reading pleasure that you've given me. I must have spent literally hundreds of hours - and I am a very fast reader - reading the collected works that sprang from your towering intellect and imagination.

My whole family has avidly devoured your books, whose humour and genius has meant happy reading for us all.

I cannot believe that one of the brightest minds that has ever written in the English language has been struck by the horror that is Alzheimer's.

There seems so be something so fundamentally wrong in this.

I don't know what to say now without sounding awfully fucking trite, so I'll simply say thank you.

Thanks, Terry.
(Thu 4th Mar 2010, 23:28, More)

» I'm your biggest Fan

Not quite sure this belongs here but...

When I saw the programme that came out fairly recently on Terry Pratchett's affliction with Alzheimers, I cried.

I am a grown man, and not particularly sentimental; but to see such a creative genius with such a fine mind and intellect affected by the horror of Alzheimers really emphasised that fairness is not an innate quality posessed by this world.

I have never cried over anything that has afflicted any other public figure.

He is one of my top literary heroes; I've spent countless hours reading his fantastic books.

If you haven't read any of the Discworld series, you should. Now.

Length? More hours of reading than I could possibly count..

P.S. No apologies for the lack of funnies.
(Sun 19th Apr 2009, 14:57, More)

» Hypocrisy

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, 'We serve no red-coats 'ere.'
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed and giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again, an' to myself sez I:
Oh, it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, go away':
But it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play -
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
Oh, it's 'Thank you, Mister Atkins,' when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, wait outside';
But it's 'Special train for Atkins' when the trooper's on the tide -
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
Oh, it's 'Special train for Atkins' when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?'
But it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes' when the drums begin to roll -
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
Oh, it's 'Thin red line of 'eroes when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that , an' 'Tommy, fall be'ind,'
But it's 'Please to walk in front, sir,' when there's trouble in the wind -
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
Oh, it's 'Please to walk in front, sir,' when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' 'Chuck him out, the brute!'
But it's 'Saviour of 'is country' when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!


I don't really approve of the way the British army is constantly sent round the globe to get shot at and blown up - yet at the same time the government that sends it is unwilling to invest in decent technology and weapons that work.

I don't believe that wounded soldiers who make it back home are treated well enough by that government either.

Not particularly funny, but it's a good poem.
(Wed 25th Feb 2009, 22:01, More)

» Failed Projects

New Labour

That is all.
(Thu 3rd Dec 2009, 14:49, More)

» Asking people out

Lets not turn this rape into a murder.

(Tue 15th Dec 2009, 21:32, More)
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