News Just In: I've Quit The Union Newspaper...

of which I was formerly editor and in doing so I took on the role of Malcolm as seen below from the brilliant Thick of It by stating the draft copy of the latest issue as being 'a consummate piece of fucking incompetence’. So I lambasted the layout designer (put in place by the Union, not me!) for not only the shocking appearance but writing an article openly criticizing the newly elected Diversity officer which the Student Union approved of! A complete embarrassment on her behalf and a shame as the rest of the team assembled did rather well and managed to do some good pieces, I interviewed a top upcoming band and wrote many pieces whilst editing yet the additional articles by the friend of the electoral runner up was horrendously biased and so hurriedly written that I didn't know where to start editing. The underling matter, we were censored from the off and I couldn't stand for any more perhaps I'll look back on this as a moment of madness but for now, I must concentrate on my partner, the degree and charity work with duties as a best man to my brother's wedding to fulfill.

Malcolm played by the inch perfect Peter Capaldi and the writers specifically Armando Iannucci whom I've mentioned before on his excellent Paradise Lost documentary, won one BAFA in 2006 but the new series shows a continuous theme of mayhem with the stellar cast and dynamic, witty dialogue that must be roundly praised for it's ingenuity. From Series One for instance of which I hugely agree with Hugh Abbot played by Chris Langham (according to Ewar), smiling should be banned:

Hugh Abbott: I want a new driver. Get me a new driver. I don't wanna see this guy ever again.

Glenn Cullen: On what grounds?

Hugh: Smiling! Inappropriate smiling! And smirking! Smiling and smirking! I don't wanna see that smile or smirk ever again, OK?

Other news, I shall soon be starting a new placement at an nearby school with a hard of hearing unit arranged by my employers of the Black County Scheme (start soon as the school get the funding to pay me) whom say I'd be ideal role model for the hearing and D/deaf alike so should be a great experience. So an interesting weekend, prior to the dramatic turn of events that took place, I spent the day in Liverpool with the lady visiting Tate Gallery and the museum, walking along the splendid Albert Docks and taking in the architecture and modernity of the largely inspired city following the award of City of Culture in 2008.

How did your weekend go? Do comment, I feel my blog is rather naked without the comments of you dear readers and I'd quite like to know if you feel I acted in the right manner. I'm considering sending an email to the layout designer who supposedly had years of experience of writing for an obscure online publication which doesn't even exist according to Google and as a 30 year old she acted irresponsibly whilst spelling disgracefully through out. Perhaps I'll say ‘By flying so close to your bright sun, like Icarus, I could have crashed to the earth and died but escaped thankfully'. Or is that quite overly dramatic and I should keep my head held high and leave things be?

Goodnight.

There is light at the end of the tunnel...

An update on the Union newspaper of which I'm the editorial mastermind (haha) so for those who may be interested, read on... The utter failure of my PR staff has lead to many missed opportunities but no more so than the Little Boots interview that agents willfully got in touch about and would've arranged something for us yet no one responded nor informed me. Now many of us have completed various assignments for our degrees we can concentrate on making a success of this yet I doubt they are overly concerned so I've taken it upon myself to arrange such meetings, bookings and check/respond/delete over 300 emails, sent many to possible contributors and bands we could help promote whilst clearing the clutter and editing various articles which primarily is my job.

However, I'm fairly confident this can be a successful jaunt with many pieces I've written (fashion, political observation, events also news. disability charity update) and shall announce a meeting next week to discuss it all before print then look for more contributors so if you wish to write something no matter what the topic is then email us at: crywolf2009@hotmail.co.uk

The picture of course is Dylan Thomas, the famous Welsh poet in a stylish attire complete with a neat cravat that reminds me I must purchase some to complete my brooding looks. I shall be visiting his house soon as I'm taking the lady on an early December romantic visit of Wales before Christmas followed by a return home to the delightful setting of North Yorkshire to celebrate the birth of Christ. Next week however shall see more University woes with several lectures before visiting London once again for Youth Workers Party and discussions also a weekend trip to Liverpool with the lady. Plenty to be getting on with but as Thomas once said 'He who seeks rest finds boredom. He who seeks work finds rest'.

Talking of the North West, it is there where the flash floods has caused havoc, the tragic news of the policeman swept away http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/uk/article6925387.ece was just terrible. An awful way to die however an heroic act under the duty of his profession and he shan't be forgotten. Rest in Peace.

'Anger is never without a reason, but seldom with a good one...

Another quote by Benjamin Franklin, oh how I admire him. I have a reason for such high inflated sense of aggression- firstly the mundane task on defending either Adam or Eve over their role within the Fall attributed to Paradise Lost that our class must undertake and the Manchester Fiction Prize (if you recall I entered over the summer period two short stories that I took two, three months to write whenever I had a moment to spare). Over 1700 entered from across the Globe and of course I wasn't expecting to win, a dream riddled with doubt nevertheless imagine my surprise at such a list of those shortlisted and whom ultimately became successful.

As a lowly student of 20 years of age and profoundly deaf amongst the literacy wannabes and heavyweights I had no chance. Still, in my naviety, I passionately imagined to be at the award ceremony in a Ralph Lauren suit glaring at those who applauded me and delivering a speech that would knock them off their silky socks prompting them to spill their chateau wine over M&S bought attire. But no, it was never going to happen amongst the calibre of opponents many of which I've never heard and judging by their short stories, ever wish to hear of. Make no mistake, I don't even wish to be a writer but a teacher yet I couldn't possibly bring myself to accept that my stories weren't worth their time as I believed that they were especially considering the tales that deemed success worthy. Taken from the winning story a fairly wonderful piece of literature by Toby Litt, 'a very big black cock, uncircumcised, with a pink bell-end that – when exposed – looked the colour black flesh does when third-degree-burned or napalmed' so there you go truly inspiring as I'm sure you'll agree...

To summarize, I'm not bitter nor envious but angered that a tale about 'fucking' won the title that I ambitiously dreamt about winning- the Young Person's Writers Award won incidentally by a 24 year old teacher from my birthplace of Leeds. Goes by the name of Halmshaw who I'm sure is a fantastic chap with a sharp wit that'd cut my fingers yet the promiscuity of his story doesn't particularly impress me. For instance his opening line: 'It’s impossible to meet women here,’ Petrov says. ‘You talk to a barmaid and she thinks you want to fuck her. Sometimes you do want to fuck her – this is when you’re really screwed. Or you see a woman at the bar. Even if all you want to do is pass the time, she thinks you want to fuck her'. I was positively stunned at the distastefulness and quite brazen way in which the story is conveyed haunted by it's lack of charm. How could he possibly think anyone over the age of 16 and under the age of... 12, would read on? It tried so desperately to be 'cool', certainly isn't demure staddled with a Fight Club complex and a wishful dialogue that neither enhances the story nor does it bring anything but pure disdain and I'm sure my girlfriend would feel the same if she was conscious at this moment (no, I haven't killed her in a rage she's merely sleeping).

Just for kicks, compare it with the opening lines to my entered stories:

- In the Hazy Days of the 1940's, I wrote ' It’s 1943; the war that started on a whim has ravaged the nation with battles still being fought and lives of staggering magnitude lost. In the maddened wind, three men walk over wearily; they are Flight Lieutenants Edward Holmes, Bill Chamberlain and Frederick Lynch of Royal Air Force No.617 Squadron'

- In Vendetta of Silence, 'Placed in a darkened interview room the alleged murderer is at the receiving end of a bombardment of questions by the ruthless Detective Inspector Kuzneski with such intent to immediately provoke his suspect from his comfort within a languid world. On a table were four pictures of recent victims to a brutal dual murder and then just the one of a sullen corspe of what was once, a beautiful woman'

Which would you envisage upon reading onwards with? My setback shan't halt my sideline writing progression as all famous and respected writers had to overcome barriers and fruitless success in various competitions. My main aim is to encourage my students to write, allow their imagination and talent to flourish despite our lack of hearing much like parents hope for the best for their children and I'm determined not to let them down upon my return to Leeds for a Masters in a couple of years. Yet I shall always wonder what shall become of that competition and why such renowned writers overlooked the potential of unknown writers in bid to promote the talents of god-awful writers with the flair of a rotting wall plant draped with human faceas.

As you can see, I'm a perfectly charming person! I bid you good day, take care.

Syntactic Hell to Idiotic Twittering...

Forgive the acronym, it's quite late and I feel like well... nevermind that, so how are we all? The weekend is virtually upon us, a joyous time it shall be for those of us with assignments due in today. On the subject of which, I'm nearing the completion of the third essay of the week on the linguistics of British Sign Language (synatic structure, word class e.t.c) which is a lot more complex than expected so I shall submit it in the afternoon rather than in this early morning hour. A written language, on the other hand, has to convey a message simply with words, clauses and sentences thus relies heavily on more or less strict set of grammar rules. It should've been done, seeing as I cannot blame Robert Enke's suicide (which did shock me and concern me!) I shall confess that distractions since the Shakespearean lecture yesterday evening with Plashing Vole halted my pragmatic and phonological analysis.

Primarily the loud music, company of the lady and housemates either cooking with or sitting watching an Italian gangster film on the plasma, the award winning Romanzo Criminale based on Giancarlo De Cataldo’s 2002 novel featuring a fine soundtrack and cast. Highly recommended with subtitles of course and in the words of Lebanese 'I can't stand posh bastards'. Even when eventually onto the laptop typing up my drivel it leads to taking a look upon the Times, Guardian and Manchester United websties along with irrelvance of Facebook and checking emails then of course blogspot....

Never shall I succumb to Twitter as my personal disgust at the utterances of random people every damn second hold no boundaries. However it seems the Twitter revolution shall become a television enterprise according to the Times. A rarity, a twitter account of actual comic innervation: a 72 year old American named Samuel renowned for his witticisms and verbal brutality shall be the inspiration thanks to his son's twittering such lines as my personal favourite: "Who in the fuck is tila tequila? Is she a stripper?...That's her? Yeah, that's a stripper, son, I don't give a shit what you say."

http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays

An American unafraid to voice his worthless opinion to one who is frightened of peripatetic chaos and losing public support: Barack Obama and the Afghanistan war which I still view as essential yet more troops risked rather then pulling them out. It reminds me of the words of Milton, ‘Your change approaches, when all these delights/ will vanish and deliver ye to woe’ (IV, 367-8) said Satan to Adam and Eve. So will Obama live to regret ever becoming President? They said his honeymoon period was over weeks ago, what's this then? As Samuel said to his son: 'Son, marriage is about not having to lie about taking a shit'.... is Barack shitting us? Are the Americans therefore we, the Brits his allies, shitting him? Does anyone give a fuck?

Goodnight.

"All this haste of midnight march"...

The quote proclaimed by Satan whilst whipping his rebels into a frenzy in Book V of Paradise Lost. Hopefully shall be the last I mention of the much unadorned epic (certainly amongst my classmates who desest it) as my latest assignment is at it's end but so too is the life of a good man hence another reasoning behind the quote. The shock passing of Robert Enke the German footballer, leading to my stringing LACK of haste to complete the work sub-consciously allowing my work ethic to flounder at this early morning hour as such a kind natured man overcome with grief ended a full life buoyed by his footballing talent and family:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2009/nov/10/robert-enke-germany-died

Television channel ARD reports that the site of Enke's death was a mere 200 metres from the grave of his daughter, incredibly saddening. He leaves a loving wife and adopted daughter whom I presume was introduced to lessen the deep hole after the little girl died of a rare heart problem. My condolences are marred by thought to whether he received enough support during his mental torment which forced him to miss many matches, the finest German keeper at the time aged just 32. Manchester United wanted him a few years ago and in some ways, I wish we bought him not only for his outstanding talent and fact he could've been an almost ideal replacement for a crazed Frenchman we had thus installing stability yet also the quasi-political sense that he may still be alive.

Now that's off my chest, onwards with the essays. I'm not surprised however to hear of this boom, a revolution within theatres across the UK. I've attended a fair few shows in recent months which something I've not done since school years as it's a high quality (when done rightly with a good cast) interactive form of entertainment that television, film and even watching people stagger home drunkenly does not offer. It's quite reasonably priced especially in comparison with getting drunk on a whim in a obscure nightclub I tend to grace nearby, far greater to learn from the classics perhaps reading certain modern novels- I'd certainly wish to see Shakespearean classics that I'm studying at this moment especially after thoroughly enjoying an Hamlet performance years ago. Interestingly at the bottom at the article: 'The Misanthrope Keira Knightley makes her West End debut in Molière’s classic. Comedy, SW1'. The exact play I mentioned last month as a source of inspiration and I'm sure it'll be wildly entertaining so tell me if you wish to go.

Burgeoning Aspirations...

After a weekend of remembrance for those brave men and women who served our nation so well including relatives and friends of my family, it's worth noting that they died fighting for our security, future and aspirations alongside Allied troops from Americans, Canadians and many more. That said Churchill would be ashamed by the behaviour of Gordon Brown at the weekend; his non-bow at the ceremony has been highlighted and now the letter he sent in a hurry to a victim's family citing many spelling errors but it shows a personal touch at least and yet he receives more criticism. Even if he wrote a poem with perfect dactylic hexameter about the joys of Britain with tribute to our favourite past-times, celebrities and sports whilst dismissing fellow Scots as 'vile', we'd still be on his back as we collectively despise him.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/world/Afghanistan/article6909326.ece

Why though? No, it's not his appearance or lack of charm but mainly down to the fact Brown won't pull out the troops with the death toll increasing. Nevertheless it shows the important to live life to the full. these soldiers are fighting for our right to do as we please without fear. They are facing adversaries, some of the most sadistic men on Earth in the most dogged of terrain just so we can walk to the shop without apprehension. Rightly I felt we invaded both Iraq and Afghanistan, the Iraq War for instance was required to dilute the threat Saddam Hussein posed. One thing for certain, our country shall never forget their service especially in the Great War and fight against the Nazis.

I've been informed about a Cricket World Cup for the Deaf to be placed in New Zealand, training for the England side takes place in the New Year in a wonderful setting of Shrewsbury. Now I'm not a cricketer as such and the technical skills I retain in football I have developed over the years whilst respecting others however I did not hence the lengthy ban at sixth form. Yet the chance to escape to a country I've always wished to visit, win a competition and bring home the trophy is too much to bear so I shall hope to make the team.

From Campaigning to Shop Designing...

Firstly a surprisingly exceptional weekend of which I hope you had too. I'm now a voice high ordained by few who deem it valiant and concise enough to pursue righteousness through the medium of campaigning. At the Council Meeting yesterday in London, a gathering of the shareholders & important officials such as Lord Low for the charity 'Skill', aimed at improving the lives of our disabled youngsters it seemed a in-house revolution is in order. The young Politics graduate who doesn't allow his autism to prevent him voicing his opinion stole the show with a inspirational speech and witticisms and now he wishes for myself to join him for another meeting for the Youth Party with realistic aims of progressive talks with the Government especially on matters such as rising tuition fees. With his confident public speaking & debating capabilities and my writing, we'd hopefully be successful strike-force joined by our supportive associates.

After a nice meal, back at the hotel I attempted to sleep yet as facebook status last night (which reminds me of this mildly amusing cartoon), well 3am showed: 'London is a city that never sleeps which doesn't help my insomnia on this fleeting visit thus sleep is looking like a sisyphean task'. The daytime London of course was it's usual stylish contemporary if not in-different self. It's certainly not homely, friendliness is a rare occurrence and as far detached from the picturesque village in which I reside in however the only plausible reasoning is that the Greater London council has being paid by the British Heritage also wishes to be nationally respected. Therefore pragmatical and obdurated in-habitants lead to a less than relaxing atmosphere means less chance of enjoyment therefore the millions of tourists shall inevitably travel elsewhere in the UK thus boosting the profits of obscure places such as Margate. On a side note, the lady wishes to go to Wales on a romantic break before Christmas after initially badgering me about Chester and Edinburgh which proves that women have no idea what they really want.

A friend of mine is a doing an Masters in Design for Advertising and his latest assignment is to design his own clothes shop exclusively for men on the lines of Topman & Burtons I presume. I recommended that he look upon ZARA with a more analytical eye and Reiss in preference with the affordability and charm of River Island. Also told him that I personally would call mine 'Lucifer' ala Satan the fallen angel of God therefore symbolizing the shop is a complete contrast to the mind-numbing consumerism of late and a grasping hand on tradition. It'd be promoted by the very mens fashion magazine I've began writing for, (not for much longer if the article printed doesn't meet approval which I hope it does).

Consequently my imagination ran wild, I dreamt of an open plan layout with modernist outlook with a ethos for value, style and shop with certain patterns, mix-matching designs with shag pile rugs and egg shaped chairs such as the new Missioni Hotel in Edinburgh. Alternatively a classical theme; Victorian with Pre-Raphaelite prints on the walls and shelves draped with books from Austen to Shakespeare maybe even an Adams fireplace with a stone staircase. How would you design yours? What ethos, naming and labelling would you introduce to the high street? Do comment if you wish.

'You are in one of your left-wing moods'...

The great Winston Churchill said to his dear wife in the most meritorious show I've seen in a long while. The Emmy winning, HBO & BBC's Into the Storm featuring fabulous performances all round, Glesson's portrayal of Churchill was uncanny right down to his facial expressions with each line muttered in a sharp disgruntled genius. A heroic brooding sycophant who carried the hopes of the nation thus held a tendency to frustrate, inspire and plunge into despair those around him. None more so than his wife Clemmie who was as immaculate at every turn (judging by pictures) whilst unassuming, considerate as she is shown to be. The finest moment is undoubtedly when he reveals all (quite literally) to the President 'As you can see, I have nothing to hide from you'- pure excellence. Just like the Channel 4 documentary The Great Escape: The Reckoning, it proves the sheer determination of our people and the relief on May 8th 1945.

Now, can I use the British endeavour and courage to finish my many assignments? Firstly an essay on Paradise Lost of which I have four opened books spread across the desk and simultaneously reading each of them. Of course, it'll mean gaining masses of information I don't even require for a task first thought to be rather simplistic as it only asks us to reflect upon an assigned passage in Book IV. Yet clearly I'm an night person enjoying the comfort of the vast desolate apartment whilst sensible people sleep; reading about one of our most celebrated poetic works certainly amongst my favourites whilst listening to the Churchillian speeches coupled with fine cup of tea. A scene I find to be quaint and very relaxing however my distractions through out the day mount and a trip to London at the weekend nears.

An essential trip as it seems the disability charity 'Skill' require my presence at the next council meeting, seemingly being elected after a mere three months as Volunteer. Whether that's to my credit or not, I shall have to see. Perhaps my disdain of the Baroness in the previous trip to the House of Lords that I blogged about shall lead to a perilous meeting tainted with revenge, a displacement nonetheless. Much like the case if the journalist whom I was forced to sternly but politely dismiss any involvement with after they found my private email enquiring of more insight to the University life.

That said, I shall be armed with my books for the trip to London Town willing to strike with another target being Peter Mandleson in an ideal world, bombarded by our useless student textbooks as Vole's blog below shows. Oh, the next issue of the WWIT featuring my debut article shall appear this week as well as a response to the hopeful application for the Student Associates' Scheme.

http://plashingvole.blogspot.com/2009/11/oh-look-peter-mandelsons-still.html


In War: Resolution, In Defeat: Defiance, In Victory: Magnanimity, In Peace: Goodwill

- Winston Churchill