La pensée du jour

This is brilliant.

The link above leads to what I would describe as one of the greatest inventions of the modern world. It describes how a ticket dispensing machine in a Birmingham car park gives instructions in English until the car park becomes full - then it switches to German.

Genius.

Imagine the impact this could have on everyday life. Every time a kid spends too long glued to the box after school, the programmes would change to Italian documentaries. If someone tried to make more than 3 microwave meals a week instead of a decent home-cooked dinner, the microwave would start shouting at you in German. Students who wasted time on Facebook instead of doing work would be faced with something like:
нарусскомрезультатовзакрыть

That's Russian for.. I don't actually know. But, see, that's the point.

We would be forced to learn another language, which is clearly a valuable life skill, or else just stop spending so much time on pointless things.

Although, I suppose this blog could count as a pointless thing. Maybe at some point it'll start making me parlez le Francais.

Oh, merde!

My Last Ever Blog ...

..Okay. Not really. But it might as well be.

MY LIFE IS OVER.

Let me set the scene. I was at home, with my housemates, happily watching Celebrity Big Brother, hoping Dane would win (the public know NOTHING), not a care in the world. And then Davina announced that we could audition for the last ever Big Brother, and to check online now.

I ran to the computer, opened up Firefox as quickly as my trembling hands would allow, and hurriedly went to the channel4 website, beaming with excitement.

"Ah, Big Brother, I will be with you soon", I thought, as I opened the auditions page.

But then - oh it hurts to even talk about - I read the dates. I couldn't believe it. Most of the auditions had already happened. There were only the Glasgow ones left (for this weekend), and London for next weekend - and I already had tickets to go to Warwick.

My lifelong dreams had been shattered. I was destroyed. I have tried to see it as being fate, as a sign from God, it just wasn't meant to be. But I just can't let go. I was meant to be in that house.

Even worse than that, the Deal or No Deal website has been telling me 'server busy' for the last two days. I don't understand the world.

I JUST WANT TO BE ON TELEVISION.

There's only one thing for it. I must date a Rolling Stone. I'll let you know how it goes.

To Gym, Or Not To Gym?

I hate going to the gym.
Actually that's a lie. I don't mind the gym. I just hate it when other people are there.
Actually that's a lie. I don't mind other people. I just hate the people that seem to be at my gym constantly.

I expected the gym to be full of flabby tummies and wobbly bums, but apparently it's the latest hot spot for the thin and beautiful, who manage to remain immaculate even after an hour on the cross trainer. In fact, better than immaculate, they have a healthy glow. Yuck.

I have two theories:

Number One: These are people paid by the gym to stand around and show you what you could look like if you actually went there more than once a week.
Number Two: There is an international thin and beautiful alliance that has decided it is their duty to make us slightly chubby, very sweaty mortals feel too embarassed to go the gym, thus providing them with a system of gym bases which they will then use to take over the world.

Clearly these are the only two possible options for them to be there. I reckon the second one is much more likely, to be honest. However, do not fear! There is an obvious solution. I suggest eating lots of choccy biscuits to keep your strength up, and avoiding all gyms in general.

Just to be on the safe side. Obviously.

The Morning After The Night Before

The alarm goes off. Snooze goes on. Alarm goes off. Snooze goes on.
Two hours later, a knock on the door, and a bleary eyed, pyjama clad student runs down the stairs, jamming contact lenses in with one hand and trying to drag a hairbrush through the birds' nest that magically formed overnight with the other, trying to understand why they've been forced to wake up before noon.
And yet what were they doing the night before? Not a heavy night of questionable drinking games and vomit filled toilet; no, something which will inevitably cause much more damage to their degree.

Television.

Oh, it's such a terrible thing. My household literally has a timetabled schedule of programmes to watch every day. I recognise the people that sign language shows about mountain climbing in the early hours of the morning. I watch the same episode of Friends at least four times a day - damn you, e4 plus one!

I can fool myself that I simply wish to make the most of my television license; that as a student, it is my right and duty to make every single penny worth it. It's not even simply background noise, something to keep us mildly entertained whilst we busy ourselves with much more important, useful activies.

It even takes a considerable amount of effort; we seem to be missing a remote, resulting in the actual need to get out of our chairs and manually change the channel! Can you believe it?
Soon the government won't have to worry about binge-drinking; it's binge-watching that they'll have to worry about.

I do however, have a solution, which will not only solve obesity and poor work ethics, but could even help the global warming cause and eventually result in world peace.
Simply - oh hang on, I'll tell you later, QI is on!