My Glorious Return

I'm back, it has been a long absence, nearly a month. I have had exams you see, three nasty horrible A-level exams (and two AS retakes) totalling five opportunities for me to make or break my future. This entailed a great amount of revision, essentially ruining the Christmas holidays for me. Revision requires a substantial amount of willpower, which I undoubtedly have, I went without alcohol for four weeks in the run up to the exams, not an easy feat. I have always wanted someone to question my will so I can say " Tah, no will, my middle name is will!" (it is actually William making it a brilliantly clever thing to say).

Going without alcohol for so long was pretty tough, especially when the person you are attempting it with is a raging alcoholic who can't even manage 3 weeks, cough cough Matt Pottle! We went to a lads curry night with all my mates to order and eat curry, play FIFA11 and drink ourselves silly, or in the case or Matt and I, make a pot of tea and have a lovely civilised chat. Our pot was ruined by some twat pouring lager in it, we were not impressed.

After finishing my exams (Physics unit 4 was my last exam) we went to the pub to celebrate, 4 weeks dry meant I was pretty liberal and had a full wallet and drank in excess for several hours, it was brilliant. I was then at a mate's neon themed party the next night, drinking to excess, covering myself and others in neon paint and making brilliant noble gas jokes ensued. It was the next morning, whilst playing football in the bitter cold that it hit me, it was still January, I'm only half way through the year and still have to go to school. Damn.

I have a warning for anyone reading this, recently I have developed an urge for conflict with whoever is unfortunate to make me snap. This started while I was playing football, I always have the slight urge to argue with referees, being a referee myself it gives me firepower in the form of knowledge. I can catch them out on technicalities, make them look foolish and ultimately achieve nothing but smugness and satisfaction. This has got to the extent that I want them to make bad decisions, giving me reason to argue with them in the hope they will say "and are you a referee" so I can go "yes I am" and metaphorically give them the two finger salute. So yeah, don't annoy me because I already have my argument prepared against you, whoever you are.

Whilst having a conversation about "The Man" (see previous post) a friend reminded me of something that happened to me today. While walking to school I was overtaken by a small child who was running, in an attempt to get him to come back his dad shouted "come back, he is much bigger than you, and might squash you" referring to me. This man does not know me, just assumes I am a clumsy-child-crushing-buffoon. I have never crushed a child.

Hope you have enjoyed my return.

Formspring and McDonalds

Once again exam season is approaching, providing me with fuel for blogs and less time to write them. I also seem to be spending more time on facebook, reading and re-reading statuses about the communal hatred for revision in the hope that something interesting will pop up. It never does.

What really gets me is the torrent of Year 7-11s that have decided to add me as a friend. People I have never even heard of or even seen but apparently they go to my school. Not being a complete arsehole I think back to my times in those years where I did the same thing so I accept. BIG MISTAKE. The lower years constantly treat my news feed to ignorant, uneducated statuses or constantly make formspring posts. For those not up to date with the latest time-wasting websites it is a networking site on which you make a profile and people ask you questions anonamously, you then answer them and they get posted to your profile. Some people think it is a good idea to link their formspring profile with their facebook profile, littering my news feed with useless tosh about people I hardly know. Formspring is a horrible idea, it acts as a platform for cyber bullying and a picking ground for paedophiles and sexpests. The next horrible idea is being able to link it with facebook. These lower school kids with no revision to do just resort to bullying each other on formspring constantly. Girls try to make boys like their friends, boy abuse girls, boys abuse boy, girls abuse girls, IT IS HORRIBLE. One boy, I will call him JMB is liked by a girl called Phoebe. All of her friends are trying to find out why he doesn't go out with her, all his guy friends are calling him gay and he replies with a straight "no." or equivalent. Oh Phoebe likes you, what about Phoebe? Why don't you go out with her? Oh hey GAAAY, You like men. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP. I have since hidden him from the newsfeed.

Those little postcards from the postman are pretty annoying, give my package to the neighbours and they will drop it off when I am home, don't make me trek it to Wallington to pick up a package that was slightly to big for my letterbox. So little initiative these posties.

I went to McDonalds today and with no cash I was forced to pay by card. The woman serving me went off to get my food and I was left with the dilemma of when to put my card in the machine. At work I have to press a button before the machine accepts cards but she pressed no such button. When she returned she tapped the screen and said "Is it in yet?" My friends were not within earshot and I did not know this woman who was serving me. The greatest "that's what she said" moment was lost forever. How saddening.

Pre-Christmas findings

I like Christmas, it is time off school and everyone is very happy, this obviously being a good thing. Has not stopped me finding little niggles and annoyances in it all though. I'm not going to rant about the commercialisation of Christmas, my hatred for the use of "Xmas", the horrible bright lights and tacky decorations or having to kiss so many old people I am apparently related to. I could do this but there is not enough space, even online and I wouldn't want to bore you too much.

What really irritates me is the food. People drastically change their eating habits just because it is what one does. Michael McIntyre did a stand up on this very topic and rather annoyingly took a lot of my ideas and made it about ten times funnier, probably due to his camp actions and variety of hilarious voices. As a talentless person I have to write mine down, removing the funny voices and actions, you can add them in yourself if you like. He mentioned how turkey is a less good chicken, sprouts are fat grenades, bread sauce is just ridiculous and how it must all go in a sandwich an hour or so after the main meals.

My focus will be cranberries. Apparently good for the metabolism, cranberry juice is popular amongst dieting women but apart from this, cranberries are not eaten again throughout the entire year, except at Christmas. A lot of the places I like to buy lunch have introduced special edition Christmas sandwiches to take advantage of the change in food preference between mid-November to early-January. These include Turkey and stuffing, chicken and stuffing, bacon and stuffing, brie and cranberry sauce and many more. As a hater of sweet main courses, sandwiches and such I immediately steered clear of the brie and cranberry sauce. Thinking the others would be safe I aimed for chicken and stuffing (I love stuffing, it doesn't get nearly enough credit or air time as it deserves) only to find the bastards had smothered it in cranberry sauce and only written it in the tiny box at the bottom. Thoroughly disappointed I checked the turkey and stuffing, oh cranberries, bacon and stuffing - yeah, cranberries again. Sulkily I decided to go for an all year round sandwich - chicken and bacon, a good, standard meaty sandwich. I picked it up, almost allowing myself a smile, before discovering that they had decided to give it a Christmassy twist and add an extra ingredient. FUCKING CRANBERRIES! Come on Greggs, I can't eat a sausage roll every day, I have my heart to think of.

Being always up to date with the latest fads and excitements I this week signed up to eBay, it is so much fun! The tension, the thrill of competition and the joy of victory (I am aware I sound like a Sontaron but bear with me). What is less fun is the agonising wait in the last minute, desperately hoping the item in question will be yours, thanks to some bloke up north who got too fat for his clothes, a desperate student in need of some cash or a housewife who has cleared the attic. Ebay is in fact the reason I am writing this blog post, I am preparing to snipe on an absolute bargain, it is nerve-racking stuff. I had my first positive feedback the other day, it was beautiful, I was so happy: "Thank you for an easy, pleasant transaction. Excellent buyer. A++++++" What a lovely man!

Have a great, eBay-filled, cranberryless Christmas readers.

The Raise in Tuition Fees - Why everyone should shut the hell up and get on with life

As you are probably aware tuition fees were raised to a minimum of £3000pa with a £9000pa cap. This has obviously caused a lot of controversy, rioting, complaining and abuse of the Tory/Lib Dem government by ignorant, narrow minded people. I'll accept that I am not in a fantastic position to judge because I will not be affected by the rise and neither will anyone already at university or applying for 2011 entry. You could say I have dodged a bullet, but you would be wrong, I have merely dodged a paintball for whilst the increase in fees is going to hurt, it is not the end of the world.

Student loans are a glorious invention, they accumulate virtually no interest, you are not required to pay them back until you earn more than £21000pa, the debt is wiped if you do not earn more than £21000pa for 30 years or live abroad for 30 years. If you are from a poor family then there is no interest on them whatsoever.

This rise is annoying and everyone who will be applying for 2012 entry or later has the right to be annoyed but this was inevitable and the Con/Lib coalition is being used as a scapegoat. Universities do not have enough money and without the increase in fees England will not be able to maintain its status as one of the world's leading providers of further education. The Russell Group (the top universities in the UK) have praised this increase and said it is absolutely necessary and fair. Some say this isolates students from poorer families but it really doesn't, government subsidies, lower loan repayments and cheaper living costs compensate for the expense. The alternative of course is to cut the number of courses or the number of places available on courses. The former may prevent people from being able to study an obscure course they need for a specific occupation, limiting the number of people in a particular profession. The latter will mean only the top students in the country can go to university, isolating those in the middle ground.

Those who are specifically blaming the Tories or Lib Dems need to open their eyes and join the real world, the EXACT same thing would have happened under Labour and the Lib Dems' promise not to raise fees and even to abolish them was a naive policy that would have bankrupted the country and had a secondary function of getting them plenty of votes.

As a student who wishes to pursue a career in science it is absolutely necessary for me to go to university and get a science degree but this is not the case for everyone. People incorrectly view university as a necessity, you could not be further from the truth, the majority of professions do not require a degree, you can go straight into office or retail work, become an apprentice for a builder/electrician/plumber etc (plumbers earn stupidly high wages), start a business or work for almost any company in the world. These fees will only deter the people who want to go to university solely for the social side of things and frankly, they shouldn't be going anyway, it is a place of learning with socialising on the side, don't drag people down because you don't care about studies, university is not just an expensive 3-year piss up.

Finally, the majority of people enjoy 14 years of virtually free education, is 3 years paid education really that bad?

Keep Calm and Carry On.

(n.b. pa = per annum)

UCAS and such

Getting into university is stressful at the best of times, this year it is more competitive than it has ever been and probably will be for the next 10 years. With fees going up, everyone who has been considering it for a few years has applied, noone with an iota of common sense is considering taking a gap year and university funding has dropped so less places are available. Great.

We all get the pleasure of applying through the middleman that is UCAS, I can't be bothered to look up what it stands for, if you want to know I recommend Googling it. For a middleman UCAS are great and receive an awful lot of abuse. Some is deserved, some is not. For example, for our personal statements you are allowed 4000 characters and 47 lines. Seems fair, 47 is a slightly strange number but alright. How is it that a statement can be way under the character limit but go over the line limit. There is nothing more frustrating than finally finishing the personal statement, proof reading, and finalising before uploading it to see that stupid bit of red writing that says "2 lines over the 47 line limit." AHHHHHHHHHH, *throw computer through window* bloody UCAS! I sorted that though.

The worst part is the agonising waiting process, first the 3 weeks for my form tutor to write my reference, the quick 2 days for the Head of Sixth Form to process and then the hard part, waiting for offers. I went through the first week telling myself it was too early for a decision but the second week was less pleasant. With every email my pulse raced, could it be an offer? Nope, another email about volunteering/amazon recommends/teamsheet, oh well. What was even more horrible was when I did get an email from UCAS, nervously I opened it to find "Would you like to take part in a survey to rate UCAS?" How disappointing, I can't face a survey right now, I'll just stare at this wall contemplating my university-free failure of a life. We all talked about timings and teachers recalled cases of excellent students having no offers until suddenly getting five in January. After nearly two weeks I had set myself for this horrible future, despite the fact that offers in the first two weeks is very unlikely.

After a hilarious shift at work, much racing and Bond-style fighting with my colleague (friend) I got home to find two emails from UCAS. Both said "Your UCAS status has changed." Cue quick pulse, sharp breaths and excited quivers. Being on my ipod touch I quickly went onto my UCAS app, oh yes, and logged in (knowing my 10-digit code off by heart of course) to find an offer of ABB from Cardiff. Not only this but an offer of ABB from my favourite, and top choice Nottingham. What a day. Conditional is such a beautiful word. If I ever see the word Unconditional on my application I will drop out of school and work full time, think of the money! So I am happy, sorry for the lack of moaning and paintball action. See you next time.

Jumping on the paintball bandwagon

Paintball seems to be an excellent blogging topic, two of my friends have given their comments on the spectacle already (mylifeisdaverage.blogspot.com and strevssundays.blogspot.com) and have probably done a better job than I will do. Until now I have refused to mention names other than my own in this blog but for ease of writing and reading I will just bite the paintball, pardon the pun, and use the names of my friends. We embarked on a trip to Whyteleafe in a jovial mood, we were going to be shooting people in a fun yet painful way, the ultimate lads day out. There was quite a walk from the station, up a massive hill, and after such an early start, this was not the ideal start for such frail teenage bodies on such a crisp and damp Saturday morning. The hill conquered we were well and truly in the mood for war.

I'm going to quickly open the racist door, gathered outside the "warzone" was a group of 15 or so Japanese people, cue paint-related Hiroshima jokes. All these jokes were trumped by the suggestion of Adam Russell: "you know how in war soldiers carry a knife for killing up close? Do you reckon in paintball you could carry a paintbrush?" With all of us kitted up it came to the point of being put into teams. Unable to fairly split ourselves we left it up to the highly fair and intelligent minds of the paintball marshals. Shockingly they didn't split us as evenly as we'd hoped. One one team they put Paul "Psycho with a face mask" Wallace, Ally "the destroyer" Marsh, Tom "In homeland we use real guns" Diver and David "I can't wait to shoot Dave" Streather and on the other team was me, Dave "COD" Williams and Adam "hallo" Russell. It did not look hopeful.

After a safety briefing we went to war, given a quick insight into course strategy we gave our battle-cry, it was quite pathetic really, far too many grammar schoolboys, midlife crisis men and hungover stag-doers for an inspiring rally. Seeing myself as superior in the speed department to my comrades I took it upon myself to sprint off to the vantage point in the form of a massive tree. I made it safely and proceeded to coordinate an attack with total strangers. It did not go well. I do not have the tactical mind needed to orchestrate successful military operations.

Several games later my lack of tactical knowledge combined with the intricate workings of Dave William's battle-ready brain. Having realised he did not have the body to match his mind, and my mind not living up to my body we teamed up. At first it was not successful, a collection of fluke shots took me out in our first two attempts at teamwork, leaving Dave to fend for himself (something he did shockingly well at) but our finest hour came in the final game. Capture the flag, sounds simple enough. But wait, the flag is situated just outside a heavily defended fortress, full of testosterone-fuelled alpha males, this would take an expert military mind and a body of military perfection. Step forward Dave and Joe. In the valuable seconds before hell was unleashed he planned our safest and quickest route to the flag. The plan fresh in my mind I burst from cover on the starting whistle and dived behind his barricade of choice. Under my covering fire, Dave made his run and landed alongside me. This was repeated another two times, leaving us just metres away from the flag, victory was in sight but alas fate is a cruel mistress. As Dave threw himself towards the final barricade in true commando style, as he landed he threw up his arm for a fraction of a second to steady himself and screamed in pain. Thinking he had landed awkwardly I said "Nice one Dave, great work". He stared into my eyes, or at least near them, our masks had fogged up, before revealing his paint splattered hand. He was hit, my comrade, my team-mate but most of all, my friend had fallen in our final battle, I was devastated, I wasn't sure if I could go on. I could hear his voice in my head, urging me on "Go on Joe, forget about me, you have to capture the flag!" In a fit of blind rage I broke from cover and grabbed the flag, with a final rush of adrenaline I sprinted back to base, flag in hand, eyes streaming with the thought of my loss. Back to base I let out a victory cry, a lion would have cowarded in fear at my show of masculinity. That was for you Dave, that was for you.

Dear Liver, fire up the hepatocytes, I'm legal!

You may not have heard from or seen me in the last week, there is a valid explanation. I turned 18 last Monday you see, my time and money has been frittering away in various public houses in the local area and a lot of time wasted recovering.

I have done a lot with my week, Monday saw an assessed A-level Chemistry practical based around activation energy and the Arrhenius equation, quite the birthday present, thanks Chemistry department. I got 12 out of 14 though, not a complete waste of birthday. That out of the way meant pub time so off I went with two close friends for my first legal pint. Got home to pizza and then to the pub with my dad and his friends. I was served by the most miserable pig I've ever seen who looked like she would rather we had walked past the door, foolish considering we made up more than half the custom that night...cow.

The week could quite easily have been described as gig-tastic, Wednesday saw me take a trip to Camden to see the Mystery Jets at the Roundhouse, it was honestly my favourite thing ever, well done to my girlfriend for buying me tickets to it. Sadly she could not attend, had to make a fool of herself on a stage in front of her whole year and their parents instead. I somehow ended up right at the front with a small friend of mine and as an 18-year old male felt particularly responsible for supporting crowd surfers and such.

The next day brought a foals gig, I knew it would never live up to the night before but also knew my girlfriend loves them. In an effort to make the night more enjoyable and to keep my jealous alter-ego down I spent the majority of the afternoon in he pub drinking and drinking, including a drink ironically named "Green-Eyed Monster". A lot of money went that day, didn't eat dinner either so it had the desired affect. I had to meet my best mate in Herne Hill, a place I have never been, on a train I've never been on and in a delirious state, it was destined for disaster. I defied logic and made it alive, he then got me to Brixton. Is it a good idea to dance to street music in Brixton? Obviously not but apparently drunk Joe thinks that would be an excellent plan, so I did. I ran up steps, fell down steps, sang, danced and all while my friend grew more and more ashamed of me. The gig did not start well, about 20 seconds into the first song I got a killer cramp in my hamstring. Best friend was in a fit of hysterics, girlfriend didn't even notice. I'm glad I surround myself with such caring people. In their defence, Foals performed an average catalogue of music fairly well and I quite like it, the fastest song Cassius was awesome, the slow songs were a bit dull but I was having a party in my own head and nothing could stop me.

My journey home was not good, getting separated from my friends, an encounter with a scumbag local at the station and a killer stomach ache all the way home but it could have been worse. I survived my trip to Brixton.

I'm not going to mention my party because I can't remember a lot of it but strevssunday.blogspot.com sums it up fairly well. I remember a mankini, a hat, and my pathetic attempt at giving an impromptu speech. I was given a mug which I opened the next day. It was from my cousin's girlfriend and it is quite possibly the best mug in the entire world, it is covered in useful information. Have you got a mug that tells you that Pi = 3.14159265, the speed of sound is 343m/s, the NATO phonetic alphabet, how to spell unnecessary and about everything under the sun? No you don't.

One quick moan: why are we all ignorant enough to believe that Christmas is here because a massive corporate business has told us so. An advert does not mean Christmas has arrived. This is exactly the way Christmas has moved away from a religious festival to a day about gifts. Bloody Coca Cola.

*hepatocytes - liver cells responsible for breaking down toxins eg. alcohol