A Classic Moment.

'Living-God' Jarvis Cocker hosts a radio show on BBC Radio 6 Music and won the Sony Rising Star Award. His show is on from four in the afternoon until six in the evening every Sunday, and he is quoted to have said "Sunday doesn't feel that different to the other days of the week anymore. Although there was something weird about when everything seemed to stop on a Sunday, it kind of marked out the week. I am going to put the boringness back into Sunday. That's my mission." He's sort of become a modern John Peel also, and is trying to stop the station from being closed down in order to save money, although he says that it's very cheap to run as the presenters don't have extortionate pay cheques and the shows are recorded in the same building as Radio 2. He said, "6 Music is never going to be the biggest station in the UK but it would be devastating if it was to close... 6 Music isn't going to change the world, it just wants to make it a bit nicer." Anyway, May 16. 2010, he starts the show by playing 'Tangled Up In Blue' by Bob Dylan, and at the end he said, "Tangled Up In Blue by Bob Dylan. That one goes out to Nick Clegg..." It took me a while to get, and when I told 'Mr. Shit, I Haven't Got A New Name For Him Yet And The Old One's Inappropriate', his reply made me realise how slow I was on the intake and how I maybe shouldn't tell others about it. I went on to tell Mother of Jarvis' little quip and she replied with "David should reply that he's going to live in a Yellow Submarine!" Anyone who doesn't get that should be embarrassed by their ignorance.

The Day of Being Christian

Ashmlee Willie Winkie and I were going to go to Carmarthen last week, so we caught a bus to Ammanford at around midday (the bus driver drove off when I was walking down the aisle and I actually did fall flat on my butt) and then we had to wait two hours to catch a bus to Carmarthen, we bummed around for about an hour and a half before deciding that it was pointless going since we wouldn't have much time to do anything anyway, so I phoned GrandPapi to pick us up. He was nasty to me at the start but when he realised that it was I, Tofu, he came straight away. He'd obviously thought that I was my sister (long story, and even if you've already heard it, there's now more). I put on an old CD that my sister and I made, that was the soundtrack to our lives two years ago, and although I've outgrown it, I still like it. Nikki FM by Hawthorne Heights came on, which has very a suicidal line, and when GrandPapi got in the car, he brought an old man that I'd never even seen before and turned up the volume. I could've died in awkwardness and Ashmlee Willie Winkie was laughing at me being embarrassed. Upon returning home, we watched loads of cartoons that we grew up to (I.M. Weasel, Spongebob Squarepants, Sylvester and Tweety, etc...), Doctor Who, Britain's Got Talent, I'm In A Rock 'n Roll Band and then A Bit of Fry And Laurie. We fell asleep and decided that we'd go to Carmarthen next Saturday.

Yesterday, we didn't make exactly the same mistake as last week. (I made a new mistake however because I judged the day's temperature on the temperature at half past seven, so by throwing on my wooly gray cardigan over my Used vest top, I was boiling hot later on in the day.) We woke up at around seven, and Ashmlee Willie Winkie caught the bus from his stop and ten minutes later I got on it at my stop. This time I didn't fall. Mother asked why we decided to get up at such an ungodly hour, to which I replied "For a laugh." We got off at Ammanford and had to wait one and a half hours for the bus to Carmarthen, but at least this time we would have plenty of enough time to have fun there. The only places in Ammanford that were open were the bakers (Jenkins on the left and Greggs opposite it on the right), Specsavers and Tesco. It was so early that only old people were awake and everyone looked at us as if we were Christians. We stuffed our faces and played in the park before jumping on the bus that was full of old people. Half way through the bus journey, I did my dislocating thumb trick to counter Ashmlee Willie Winkie's more disgusting dislocating thumb trick, and the nice guy behind us (that Ashmlee Willie Winkie had given the time to earlier) said, "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be looking or anything, but that's weird." I was so embarrassed and said, whilst bright red, "Well at least I didn't do the one where my foot is the same level as my head..." I remained red for the rest of the bus journey. Nothing much happened in Carmarthen. I popped in about ten clothes shops looking for a reasonably priced shirt to put over my vest top and I could only find one that was anywhere near my price range, but they only had sizes sixteen, eighteen and twenty, not the size eight that I am or the six ten that I like in shirts. We met up with my sister for a bit and then got a bus back to Llandeilo to walk down to Ashmlee Willie Winkie's house so he could pick up his copy of Fantastic Mr. Fox because I really wanted to watch it (especially since Jarvis Cocker has a song and a minor character called Petey in it). I loved it. There was a digital copy, a DVD and a Blu-Ray version of it in one box, so thanks to the digital copy, I now have it on my iPod. I never thought it would be so funny, and it's only one hour twenty minutes. We could've watched it in the time that we spent in Ammanford waiting for the bus to Carmarthen and still had ten minutes to spare! We then watched my Saturday night programmes (Doctor Who, Britain's Got Talent, I'm In A Rock 'n Roll Band) before going to bed. He went to bed on top of my bed in the sleeping bag that we bought him last year and I went to bed in my parent's stupidly comfortable bed. Pa told me to not sleep on his side because I have 'disgusting sleeping habits', so I didn't, although I still managed to make a dribble lake on his pillow which wasn't intentional! Oops.

Oh, and quickly to add, I've been talking to 'Mr. Shit, I Haven't Got A New Name For Him Yet And The Old One's Inappropriate' about my latest Cameron and Clegg Fantasy, and nearly died of laughing when I typed the following on his wall. I just thought I'd share it with you because I nearly died of laughter!

He glares over at Nick, and instantly all of the unfinished paper work and the state of the economy meant nothing to him. He just wanted to cradle Nick and take away his hurt pride. Nick shook his head and left leaving David alone with his thoughts and his HARD ON!

♥

Cameron and Clegg

So yeah, this just came on the news and I thought it was quite sweet. I seriously want to read some fan fiction about the to of them - I'll need a detailed, tense, heartbreaking romance with some politics and tough decisions thrown in amongst sex and restraints and as little Gordon Brown as possible! It's not that I don't like him, it's that I don't find him at all persuasive, seductive or lovable, so he can just BACK OFF OUT OF MY NEW FANTASY! Thank you very much... Today was my last day of school. I now know what I'm doing at A level, I've lately made a new friend who makes me buzz, and I'm getting rid of a few people out of my life. So overall, the general mood is relief but with a tiny bit of nerves about the gruelling exams.

The Night of David Cameron's Victory

"What the hell are the Liberal Democrats doing going to bed with the Conservatives?" Smooth Mr Television Reporter Interviewer Man.

"Do you know what the deal is here then?" "Absolutely no idea." "Oh... Well why have you come in here then?" "Because I was told to." David Dimbleby, you have such grace... Please! Just tell me your secret!

"...and the Liberal Democrats have decided to swallow it." I don't even know what that was about but it took me by surprise!

Yes yes, David Cameron has become Prime Minister, that's all very good and everything, but like I said to Mother, hardly anything to do with British politics is going to be as historic as American politics. But the only bits I really remember of the night are the news reporters going mad! Oh and the Queen's face beaming whilst she shook David Cameron's hand...

BLESS HER ROYAL LITTLE HEART!

My Stroke of Genius in the Bath

So Kennedy's a cat, the following has many references to the Cuban Missile Crisis, Cleo's a hypochondriac. Any comments, suggestions and improvements are welcomed.

"No matter how much I want to, we can't keep him Winston, it's not fair on Kennedy. He's agitated and this is his home. This should be a place of relaxation. Besides, the dog doesn't even have a name."

Laughing, Winston said, "We could call him Khrushchev."

Cleo laughed too at the reference. She felt a little knot in her throat and a growing fondness for Winston. She blinked hard and said, "They can't work out an amicable decision though, not without Kennedy ending up with less than he began with anyway."

"True true," Winston said, chuffed that she'd understood his joke. "The only thing he can lose is his home, and that's not right. I'll put an advertisement in the paper then, and keep him at my house for a week."

"And then?"

"And then I'll try my hardest to let him go. I know it's like the enemy forming connections to you that are too close for comfort, but please don't set up a blockade!"

They mockingly shook hands. "I don't aspire to damage relations Sir, EXCOMM and I have learnt from past mistakes. You have my word."

Laughing, Winston went to take the newly-named Khrushchev to his house, and Cleo slumped on the couch in confusion and panic over her new feelings. She'd never felt like that before - was she ill? She made a note to herself to visit the library soon.