Remember the internet cafe job I periodically mention from timeto time - usually not in the best light? Well, looks like it's gone from under me, for reasons of immaturity.

No, not on my part.

It's bad enough The Boss was intenton not fixing the place up because that meant he'd have to spend money, but the Number Two decided he wanted out, and his way of doing so was as follows: don't pay connection bill, and force the place to shut as a result.

You have to be some kind of überdouchebag to screw people out of their wages just to get what you want, especially because this was the only bill he didn't have to pay that wouldn't have lawyers at his door fornon-payment. But it's what he's done.

Then again, I made the grand total of £6400 in 26 months in the place. Yes, I lost a wage, but not much of one. Fingers crossed, eh?

For whatever reason, they're refusing to upgrade the Flash player at work, so as a result I can't vote on NG, nor can I post on the boards (and logging in is a hassle, too).

Did I ever mention my job sucks, and is run by morons?

In a bout of wanting to appear cultures, I visited the First Emperor exhibition at the British Museum last Friday (7/12), and it was quite fascinating, especially compared to the last time the teracotta warriors were over here and they just stood half a dozen or so of them in a room.

Of course, capitalism prevailed up front: tickets were £13.50 ($27) to get in, even though museums are supposed to be donation only, and it was £3.50 for an audio headset for people that couldn't be bothered to read the displays. And, naturally, Britishness took over too - there wer epeople literally running about trying to stop orderly queues breaking out all over the place.

Although there weren't that many of the teracotta warriors there, a dozen or so, there was a lot more variety to give a better impression of the tomb in Xi'an - they had warriors (be they foot soldiers, archers or generals) charioteers (complete with horses) making up one part of the exhibit, but also musicians, acrobats, strongmen and government officials, which casts a very different light on the perceived notion of what's there, and you could get pretty damn close to them, and see all the detail, right down to finger and toenails, as well as shoelaces, different hair and facial hair, and all the other details yo miss when you don't get the chance to study them up close.

There were plenty of other artifacts, too - money, tools, stone armour, birds from the underground river, misfired attempts at creating the figures, weapons and other batle accoutrements, all building up during the exhibition before you reached the actual teracotta figures.

The figures, too, are remarkably - there was one of an unarmoured archer that was almost life-like (albeit, y'know, clay-like and that), which as I said before you don't get when you see them on TV, all stood before you in Xi'an, but not in closeup.

So, with a well drip-fed flow of information before you can take your time admiring the figures, naturally the exhibition ends and you walk straight into the shop (Capitalism 2, Culture & Education 1), but that shouldn't taint it.

Worth attending if you can make it (and aren't put off by the overly specific, and costly, ticketing system), although if you go, don't tell any Greeks - I fully suspect the Greek restaurant opposite the main gate is there so they can formulate plans to reclaim the Elgin Marbles...

During my many long periods of intense fucking bordom at work, when I've run out of internet to use, I usually bounce around Wikipedia for a bit to stop my brain turning to mush. And, one of those days, I looked up the results of the Great Britons series from a couple of years back, and saw the results once again:

1.) Winston Churchill
2.) Isambard Kingdom Brunel
3.) Princess Diana

hang on...the third greatest Briton of all time was an arch media manipulator who never did anything for anyone - with the obvious exception of herself?

While it's obvious why she got there, because of the bored Middle Class Middle Age Housewives of Middle England, who deify her and believe every incessantly inane conspiracy theory about her being murdered in a Royal plot (rather than, say, the one time she didn't want her picture taken, she didn't wear a seatbelt in a limo with a drunken driver that drove at 120mph through a tunnel - smart!) Or, to put it another way, who said "there were three people in [her] marriage", referring to Camilla Parker-Bowles, but somehow omitted any mention of Will Carling, James Hewitt, James Gilbey or Barry Mannakee. Strange that.

In other words, a media whore did more for the world than, say, William Shakespeare, Isaac Newton, Charles Darwin, Emmeline Pankhurst and many others? Then again, another example of how retarded the voting got is that David Beckham was:
a.) Nominated for the Top 100
b.) Finished in 33rd place
c.) Is apparently greater than Charles Dickens, Boudica, Nye Bevan, William Wallace, Owain Glyndwr, George Stephenson, Robert the Bruce, Walter Raleigh...and don't get me started on Joseph Bazalgette not even being nominated, or JK Rowling coming above JRR Tolkein.

So, naturally, I checked with the other nations that had done their versions, all the while wishing the Italians had (even though the top five would probably include Julius Caesar, Caesar Augustus and Enzo Ferrari), some of them were shockingly awful.

First, Germany's Unsere Besten, which had a whopping 200 Germans for consideration - albeit with a few rules and regulations, mainly prohibiting any German that happened to be in a position of power and influence between 1933 and 1945. And get over it, Beethoven and Mozart were both Austrian. That's why Bob Marley wasn't in the Great Britons list.

Next, there's The Greatest Canadian, which I mention because Michael Moore was right: Tommy Douglas won.

Suuret Suomalaiset proves that nothing remarkable ever came out of Finland (the same can be said for Romania and Bulgaria), but the real horror has to be The Greatest American.

Who in the name of holy hell thinks/believes that Ronald reagan is the greatest American who ever lived? And, by God, why does everyone on the list seem to have some label tagged onto them (Greatest Humourist, Greatest Astronaut, Greatest Germand But We Nabbed Him For Our List Anyway, Greatest Jumped-up Chat Show Host That Should Sit Down And Shut Up For Once And Let Rikki Lake Try And Influence Government Policy). Come on, who the fuck thinks it's fine that George W Bush is now regarded as the sixth greatest American?!?

(Although the image of him in a fight with Gareth Edwards is highly amusing)

God, no wonder we end up with governments that can't govern if we seem intent on deifying the substandard and celebrating mediocrity at the expense of the sublime (this counts quintuple if you're a follower of the England football team). Hell, we can't even get it right when talking about the 100 Worst Britons, when Jordan/Katie Price is apparently worse than Margaret Thatcher.

The mind would boggle - if my head didn't hurt so much...

Quite a week, that - relying on other results to qualify for the European championships in football, losing in the Rugby World Cup final (thank Christ), and Lewis Hamilton choked to finish third in Formula One while Ronnie O'Sullivan crashed and burned in the snooker Grand Prix yesterday.

In other words, Trafalgar Square won't be filled with boneheads pretending they're fans just because England won at anything - unless Nigel McGuinness happens to be passing, anyway.

The pigeons must be relieved.

You can tell Christmas is coming when catelogues plop through your letter box on a daily basis (hang on, I started my shopping two weeks ago, didn't I?), but I was mildly nauseated b y the Boots one.

Simply put, the choice of perfumes, offering the simple choice: smell like Victoria Beckham, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears or Kate Moss think you should smell.

In other words, smell like somebody who uses any opportunity to get into the papers to cover the fact she hasn't been useful since 1998 (or is that her husband?), is happy t o make mon ey despite not needing a dime, somebody clearly unbalanced, or someone from Purley. Aspirational!

But, on the other hand, the radio controlled tarantula is just the thing to chase my cats around the living room with on Christmas morning...

England are in the Rugby World Cup final again, playing the sort of rugby that is less a sport, more being suffocated in a plastic bag for 80 minutes wile listening to Enya.

Hopefully South Africa win the final, so we don't have to go through the half hour of rugby being the new #1 sport, despite the fact the average Brit can only name Johnny Wilkinson from the starting XV. We had that four years ago, thank you...

You are cordially invited to attend a themed networking party Vampires from Films held to raise money for horror movie project on 21st August @ Punk, 14 Soho Street, W1.

Only tens pounds on the door from 7:30pm till 1:00am, DJ's, Circus Acts and much, much more.

RSVP via comments/PMs.

I hope to see you there.

cellardoor6
Demosthenez
LazyDrunk
Memorize
JakeHero
WolvenBear

Get a Welsh dictionary, then try and work out why I don't respect you, anything you say, or even give you the common courtesy to pretend I give a shit.

Because it's easier to make a point when you aren't being driven insane by the poisonous bullshit of a troll for four months...

Our self-appointed moral guardians made me do it
Shoot the Elephant
The Wisdom of the Pro Gun Lobby