Um, both the links go to the same page (ie no new Julian book). But great! Surely your thirst will be unslaked until you find it in the bookshop, though. Maybe better to do so unjetlagged, as else you may break into booming, triumphant laughter, straddle a display table and spit at the gods, which just isn’t english high street behaviour, I’m afraid.
How you finding your trip, anyways? If you make it into town (London) you should organise a ‘point and stare’ session at a local alehouse – I have an excellent pointer and can give it a bit of cockney – “blimee, its only them geezers from offa the innernet!”
Oops – don’t know how I managed that. Thanks for the notification. It’s fixed now.
That is hilarious about the laughter and the high street behavior – because it’s so nearly how it went. Because I did finally find the damn thing, and I was indeed entirely unable to help walking or staggering up Wimbledon High Street while yes indeed laughing maniacally at frequent intervals. I did keep it as quiet as I could, I don’t think it was audible, but oh dear I was cackling.
As for English high street behavior, though – oh come on. Are you never on that High Street at 3 or 4 o’clock to see the behavior of the little errrrr highspirited hormone-drenched maniacs who get out of school and fill all the buses at that hour? They’re not exactly what one would call sedate!
For me those little hoodrats are to be seen and not heard. Necessarily, as my only contact is down the end of a sniper rifle lens, or watching their gurning faces on muted Saturday morning TV while I shake my fist at them in a contorted, secretly jealous of their youth manner.
Yeah. As a tourist, and one with a perverse fondness for slow bus travel that allows me to gaze raptly at parks, traffic jams, and branches of Tesco and Boots and Oxfam, I am all too exposed to the darling creatures. It’s quite remarkable how piercing the voices of only four or five barely-teenage girls can be. I kept (literally) holding my ears closed, because it was actually painful. Bless their little hearts.
I’m not jealous of them though. They don’t have books in the bookshops, do they!
“Its meaning is not always sexual; it can be used as an adjective, such as ‘John is doing all the fscking work’; as part of an adverb: ‘Shirley talks too fscking much’; as an adverb enhancing an adjective: ‘Shirley is fscking beautiful’; as a noun: ‘I don’t give a fsck’; as part of a word: ‘abso-fscking-lutely’ or ‘in-fscking-credible’; and as almost every word in the sentence: ‘Fsck the fscking fsckers.'”
The meaning is definitely not always sexual; it’s an all-purpose intensifier. I use it that way myself occasionally. But an intensifier doesn’t work if you use it every other word! Basic principle, innnit!
We had a dodgy server at my old work place. A collegue came in from the machine room one day shouting “The fucking, fucker’s, fucked.” We all new exactly what he meant. A highly versatile word.
Yr mate missed a trick there. Had he run in shouting “The fscking fscker’s fscking fscked!” he could have managed to get an adjective, a noun, an adverb and a verb out of the one word. How versatile is that?
Yep, that’s better still. Apparently, some languages do not have swear words, does anyone know if that is true? (I beleive Japanese was given as an example, but as I don’t know the lanaguage, I have no idea if this is true).
The best fun comes from inoccuous words in one langauge meaning something offensive in another. (Being a Brit, I find few things funnier than seeing a breakfast cereal called Krapz & Fartz or something similar).
The Japanese language certainly has words for insulting or cursing people. But I’ve never heard the Japanese say anything other than “ow!” when they stub their toe. Or, if it’s really painful, “AAAAIIIIRRRGGGHHHHH!!!” BTW, Calpis isn’t bad.
Um, both the links go to the same page (ie no new Julian book). But great! Surely your thirst will be unslaked until you find it in the bookshop, though. Maybe better to do so unjetlagged, as else you may break into booming, triumphant laughter, straddle a display table and spit at the gods, which just isn’t english high street behaviour, I’m afraid.
How you finding your trip, anyways? If you make it into town (London) you should organise a ‘point and stare’ session at a local alehouse – I have an excellent pointer and can give it a bit of cockney – “blimee, its only them geezers from offa the innernet!”
Most satisfying.
Oops – don’t know how I managed that. Thanks for the notification. It’s fixed now.
That is hilarious about the laughter and the high street behavior – because it’s so nearly how it went. Because I did finally find the damn thing, and I was indeed entirely unable to help walking or staggering up Wimbledon High Street while yes indeed laughing maniacally at frequent intervals. I did keep it as quiet as I could, I don’t think it was audible, but oh dear I was cackling.
As for English high street behavior, though – oh come on. Are you never on that High Street at 3 or 4 o’clock to see the behavior of the little errrrr highspirited hormone-drenched maniacs who get out of school and fill all the buses at that hour? They’re not exactly what one would call sedate!
For me those little hoodrats are to be seen and not heard. Necessarily, as my only contact is down the end of a sniper rifle lens, or watching their gurning faces on muted Saturday morning TV while I shake my fist at them in a contorted, secretly jealous of their youth manner.
(Not really. Well, I certainly don’t have a gun).
Yeah. As a tourist, and one with a perverse fondness for slow bus travel that allows me to gaze raptly at parks, traffic jams, and branches of Tesco and Boots and Oxfam, I am all too exposed to the darling creatures. It’s quite remarkable how piercing the voices of only four or five barely-teenage girls can be. I kept (literally) holding my ears closed, because it was actually painful. Bless their little hearts.
I’m not jealous of them though. They don’t have books in the bookshops, do they!
“It’s quite remarkable how piercing the voices of only four or five barely-teenage girls can be.”
Typical exchange outside of Chez James on a Friday or Saturday night at 11:15:
High-pitched female voice no. 1:
Fak, fak, [unintelligible] fakin fak!
High-pitched female voice no. 2:
Yeah, fak, fak and fak, ya fakin fakker!
Deep-bassed newly broken male voice 1:
Worra worra worra, inni’?
High-pitched female voice no. 1:
Well fak yew too you fakin fakker!
[ad infinitum]
I hope to hell my daughter never picks up Estuarine as her first language and that she pronounces all of her T’s
>shudder<
[falling about]
Oh those fakkin fakkers.
They’re fakkin wankas init.
From the internet:
“Its meaning is not always sexual; it can be used as an adjective, such as ‘John is doing all the fscking work’; as part of an adverb: ‘Shirley talks too fscking much’; as an adverb enhancing an adjective: ‘Shirley is fscking beautiful’; as a noun: ‘I don’t give a fsck’; as part of a word: ‘abso-fscking-lutely’ or ‘in-fscking-credible’; and as almost every word in the sentence: ‘Fsck the fscking fsckers.'”
The meaning is definitely not always sexual; it’s an all-purpose intensifier. I use it that way myself occasionally. But an intensifier doesn’t work if you use it every other word! Basic principle, innnit!
“Its meaning is not always sexual”
We had a dodgy server at my old work place. A collegue came in from the machine room one day shouting “The fucking, fucker’s, fucked.” We all new exactly what he meant. A highly versatile word.
Ooops, I notice others were subsituting s for u in said expletive. Hope I haven’t offended anyone by forgetting to do so as well.
Yr mate missed a trick there. Had he run in shouting “The fscking fscker’s fscking fscked!” he could have managed to get an adjective, a noun, an adverb and a verb out of the one word. How versatile is that?
“Yr mate missed a trick there.”
Yep, that’s better still. Apparently, some languages do not have swear words, does anyone know if that is true? (I beleive Japanese was given as an example, but as I don’t know the lanaguage, I have no idea if this is true).
The best fun comes from inoccuous words in one langauge meaning something offensive in another. (Being a Brit, I find few things funnier than seeing a breakfast cereal called Krapz & Fartz or something similar).
Calpis. Pocari sweat. They crack me up every time.
The British, you see, get irony. Err, and toilet humour. Hang on, something’s wrong here…
The Japanese language certainly has words for insulting or cursing people. But I’ve never heard the Japanese say anything other than “ow!” when they stub their toe. Or, if it’s really painful, “AAAAIIIIRRRGGGHHHHH!!!” BTW, Calpis isn’t bad.