The trouble with my FreeWeb site is that it only allows me seven pages, and seven paragraphs in each page. This is, unless I actually wanted to pay. I got rid of the rather dull comments page, as I had done away with the Feedback page, in order have a Diary page. however, since things happen to me every day, my Diary is now full. Therefore, I shall move all old diary entries into here. Like so:

Diary Log - 24/11/03

I start this diary entry in earnest, but with no idea of what to write about. Ollie has recently mentioned the epidemic of rubbish websites that have come about. Dominic has assumed me that he is going to mention his recent encounter with an enraged, illiterate, foolish Spanish teacher, out to spite him. Whether or not he will write it better then I could is not the question; it was him to whom this babble of rage was spat out. Basically, he was asked to give an assembly, at very short notice. To be more exact, he was asked to take over from these people him, Anshul and I were tormenting. To put them out of their misery, I suppose. Adem has noticed my similarity with Jack Osborne, and I realised that until someone takes it upon himself to assassinate the Danny look-a-like, Jack will have to get used to people imitating me around him all though his life, or at least until he changes hair colour. Adam was not sympathetic to poor Jack. I have been told that that joke is not funny, and never will be. However, it always brings a smile to my face, and to the face of the people who are watching me smile.

Belated Diary Entry- 13.12.03

I have subscribed to yet more web logs today, and already I am reaping the consequences; I have so far had 14 hits - keep it up! By the way, I have just finished reading the "Da Vinci Code". It was very absorbing, and had me up until 3.00 A.M. just reading it. It was a brilliant read, and very engrossing. However, once I happily put it down next to my bed, I thought about it; and it seemed rubbish. This is merely a red herring for the real diary entry:  Anyway, I was planning to talk about what happened to me this very morning, at 6.00 A.M. Before I explain, can I remind you that I don't live in Iraq, or some dangerous area, or at least I thought so before... Nicely melodramatic wouldn't you agree? Basically, in the morning, a taxi driver knocked on my door. This was not due to his urge to transport me to Heathrow, or because someone had phoned them up telling him or her that I would appreciate the awaking. No, this was a particularly irate driver who had been called for by a surprisingly drunk man, who can just come out of a charity party held at a real neighbours house and even in his inebriated state was also not a happy man. I could not tell why, but he seemed to roll around in the gutter, and in the road. The taxi driver therefore could neither drive him home (he was beyond speaking non-obscene language let alone remembering where he lived) nor just plain drive off due to the drunk being under the car, and him not wanting to commit capital murder. The police were, of course called, but after the 999 chaps didn't turn up in 10 minutes, they were called again. That time they redirected us to the local constables office. They, in turn, put us on hold, and after 4 minutes of hiding from us, hung the phone up. I was not, suffice to say, impressed, due to their lack of courtesy explain to me that they couldn’t be bothered to do their job - I must admit to occasionally feeling that way but never to the people who pay me. I may just have a poor police force in my area, or met the wrong person, but to prove that they hadn't not just been illegal immigrants from Eastern Europe who didn't speak English, they turned up again at about 11.30 A.M. just to see if I had survived. In the end, the law was taken into its citizens own hands, and the man was dragged back forcibly to the house from whence it had come from.

Diary: 25.1.04, Nothing At All To Do With Tomorrows Debate

As I write this, I have a bag of crisps in one hand, and a keyboard in the other two. I have a plaster on my finger slowly and surely stopping me type. It came about when I was rather enthusiastic, perhaps too enthusiastic, at trying to eat lunch. I had just come out of a "weekend eating" stage, whereby I don't get up in time for breakfast, and there was a tempting bag of bagels, and an even more tempting knife beside it. I grabbed the knife, and cut myself. Moral of the story: You can't hurt yourself with pizza deliveries. Not much happened today, thank god. It was a typical Saturday - I got up, I ate, I went back to bed. I considered doing something outside of my cubicle-like computer room, but on second thoughts, I vetoed my first. Around me are the various gadgets that have built up like plaque - the "desktop mirror" (now I can see myself!) the "desktop darts", the water dispenser (don't mix this up with something useful); the electric fan, slowly not-whirring in the background. There is a piano behind me, and a printer and a scanner to my left and right respectively. Neither of them works, unfortunately, but it’s the thought that costs... My surprisingly legal sound speakers are playing some surprisingly illegal music. Although I appreciate that what I have just written isn't exactly a diary, it is a fair description of my room. Time passes the room by, and with the artificial light and the eternal computer, I tell the hour by seeing what clothes are on the floor. Some crickets are chirping in the background (I think I've got my tenses wrong somewhere) and I amuse myself by throwing my "desktop darts" at them, and amuse them by missing. Although the temptation to write tomorrows journal now is strong, I think that my time would be better spend eating this quite luscious bag of crisps beside me. It’s a damn shame I’ve bled all over them. UPDATE: 7.2.04 - Came Third in the Debate! Not bad, out of 16 teams...

The Holidays: Dull Tuesday, 6.1.04

For the last week, and for the next one, my diary is almost empty. That means I am not going to do anything. It is the holidays, and a swarm of boredom is sweeping through all those who are experiancing it. This also means for the blog, that I have nothing to write about. Well, I suppose I can write about the fact that I have nothing to write about, but as you can see, it isn't very interesting. I have finished reading "Bravc New World" and I am completing "The Blind Watchmaker" by Aldrous Huxley and Richard Dawkins respectively. Brave New World is rather unsubtle, and speaks of what will happen if science rules society, and religion is ignored. It is rather simple as well, but I suppose you can give 60 year old books some leeway. Society there works in castes, and the castes are decided by how you are artifically born (embreos are split into identical 72lets and they would be given certain conditions (like the amount of alcohol in the tube) to grow in a test tube). There is brain washing at all ages due to "hynotherepy" and so maxims like "I am so glad I am a Beta (the second highest caste). The Alpha children wear grey. They work much harder then we do, becaus ethey are so frightfully clever. I am really awfullly glad I am a Beta, because I don't work so hard. And we are much better then the Gammas and Deltas. Gammas are stupid. They all wear green, and Delta children wear Khaki. Oh no, I don't want to play with Delta children. They are too stupid to be able..." are reapeated endlessly in everyones sleep. Also, as children, using electricity, the love of country sports is drilled in (that helps consumerism). Ford is worshipped; time is counted in years after the T-model car, important people are called "Your Fordship" and "Oh Ford!" is the equivilent to swearing. There are many examples, because it is a thourough book.  The Blind Watchmaker is a book about evolution, and therefore non-fiction, and therefore I really couldn't describe it that well.   Tomorrow, I shall see this play that was almost banned for being "heresy", called "Messiah" in London. Either that or some Beckett, which is always dull. I don't know why I get dragged into it, really.

7.2.04 - A Day of Feedback And Hockey Special!

Omnicult has closed down, and as you might have noticed by there being a new diary entry up, there are new Diary entries up. I don't know why, and I am unlikely to find out. Well, the most relevant thing that happened to be about this website was the surprisingly large amount of positive feedback. I was told that my website was amusing no less then three times in the space of about a week. This is a lot, considering that I only know about three people. And one of them is a long lost evil twin. Who lives in Jamaica. And pretends to be from England. And keeps a blog. Meh. As you may be able to see (all P.C. in here - some people can't) some of those three people wrote about it in the guestbook. I have a plea to take down the beloved web counter, but I might just update it with the real hit figures (which I get from dot.tk).  What else has happened? Well, I had this maths competition which asked absurdly difficult questions today. It didn't affect my concentration however, and I spend the time doodling on about three separate sheets of paper. Hoorah. And I got into the debating final. If people could stop half-heartedly clapping when ever I talk, I'd really appreciate it. Although I am loath not to except more praise (you'd be surprised at what turning down three merits and a House merit did to my world-wide publicity. Apparently, this Chinese guy found out about it...) it really wasn't much of an achievement. If anyone was actually watching the debates, you would have discovered that I in fact did rather badly, just everyone else did worse.  I really don't have much else to add, apart from some high tech sounds. Blip. Beep. Blig. Tzeeh. Eep. Dominic and Ollie, my internet peers, have both stopped blogging. Ollie has written a comment effectively denying that he ever did blog, and Dominic has just forgotten.   Ah yes, this is interesting: I have been demoted from Game One hockey. All I said ever about it being even slightly disreputable should be taken back. Game Two hockey is pathetic. No longer to they bother with warm ups, or actually playing hockey. No, they go straight into the leg hacking. Game Two Hockey is also called Grass Hockey, and consists of people throwing hockey sticks across the field, and occasionally hitting a white violent hockey ball towards someone’s unprotected shins. It is a bloodbath. The hockey players are the sort that Attila the Hun would have envied. There is no talent to playing, short of being able to nail a...nail into a blood-stricken piece of wood. To play real hockey, you just hit the ball forward, preferably into the opponent. Here, in Grass Hockey, when you try to hit the ball, it mysteriously goes behind you, as if there was a large magnet pulling it back. Therefore, the way to play is effectively like playing rugby; stand behind someone and hack at their legs until they fall. The games end up with one team on the floor, in tears or with stitches, and one team beaming with delight, and about twenty "goals" to their name. When the goalkeeper has no protection whatsoever against great iron cannonballs being shot at him, he is loathe to try to stop the ball, totally understandably. This aspect of the game makes Grass Hockey a lot easier for the strikers then just Hockey which means that everyone wants to strike, which means that no one wants to defend, which means that the strikers have a thoroughly easy time, what with the goalkeeper a good five meters behind the net.     This may very well be last Hockey post, because when I eventually drop it for running in the mud (at least it’s direct...) to escape the horrors of war. Grass Hockey does to me what Vietnam did to U.S. Marines; makes me want to smoke weed. I really do have a lot more to say, and I have this whole "new computer" thing to explain. Plus this theatre trip...plus my absence from school on Tuesday the 10th...plus some more juicy gossip on my form tutor. The Spanish one. Patience, my non-existent readers, the updates are coming...

A December Stat Check for all of the Stat Freaks out there

In December 2003: 215 unique people came to this website: Thats almost 7 a day 20 were Me 61 % were from the UK (thats 131, or 111 British people who weren't me) 36 % came from the good old USA (thats 77 people) 3 % came from Argentina, Belgium, Denmark and Singapore combined (thats 8 people) A Pretty Diagram is on its way... This was only the First Full Month. Have a Mostly Harmless New Year. May I thank .tk for the Stats, and the Pie Chart.

A January Stat Check for all of the Stat Freaks out there

In January 2004: 210 unique people came to this website: Thats almost 7 a day 10 were Me 65 % were from the UK (thats 136 people, or 126 British people who weren't me) 24 % came from the good old USA (thats 51 people) 7 % came from Belgium, Norway, Poland, Hong Kong and Italy ( thats 15 people) 3 % the Netherlands (thats 6 people) 1 % came from Germany (thats 2 people)  Again, thanks must go to .tk for the diagram. And all of the people from the New Countries. Hatred must go to the people living in Argentina, who didn't go to my site. You know who you are. Fingers should be pointed at the two people who voted in the Vote. This was the Second Month.

Debating: The Annual Farce Returns, 22.1.04

Every year I get mistaken for someone else: every year I get picked for debating competitions. Its not that I'm bad it at or that I don't enjoy it, but it always amuses me how there must be totally no one else literate enough to read a speech out loud. And even that pushes me... Debating this year is in the form of British Parliamentary. That is, four speakers on each side, or two houses on each side. Some people might have worked out that there are two people in a house. Well done. Give yourself a patronising pat on the head. I am teamed up with this guy called ...best not to mention. He won't find out... a year older then me. We have two debating motions, "This House believes that Students Should Pay Their Way (Proposing)" and "This House Believes that Tobacco is More Damaging to Society then Alcohol (Opposing)". This, if you are not familiar with my life, is bad news. We have already lost, alas, and all we can do is tell sad stories of debates that were...  But before I drift onto into a film script, don't think too badly of my position. I was picked one of two, out of about 60. Of course, only about four others tried out for it, but as the saying goes "That’s irrelevant". The first debate is on Monday the 26th... I had my first debating meeting this afternoon. I was told about the reason behind the new format but it is unprintable on this respectable website. We decided that I was quote "Screwed" unquote. Not to worry, as I will not make a fool of myself, I expect the system to take some battering as well. Because of this meeting, my lunch schedule was disrupted. Apologies to those in catering who only sleep at night knowing that I've drunk more then three Fruitinas. It'll only last about a week; I'll get knocked out early. If it gets really bad, and I win, start investing in sandwiches and break time snacks.    DANNY stands up. He is standing at the end of four tables, arranged in two sets of two. He is nervous, and you see him pour himself another glass of water. Next to his glass, you see a half empty, yes, empty, jug. And next to that, as the camera scrolls to it, a mountain of glasses and cups, discarded onto a heap. The OPPOSITION are wondering if DANNY's stomach now has a tide. Danny: Mr. Chairman. Honourable Adjudicator. Learned Opposition. And Members of the Press. People begin to boo; someone throws a frog at him. A PERSON with a flag entitled "press!" waves it. Another PERSON waves a flag on which "OPP" is scrawled. A monkey is holding a sign "trouser". More futile puns are held up, and you see that people have been graffiting on the wall behind the monkey "Hedmarstar wos her" and "Fired for impersonating a woman" are particularly noticeable. Danny: I'd like to begin this debate by repeating myself endlessly, to waste time.... Opposition: On a point of information, Sir   Danny: Accepted. I feel like a quick coffee break, anyway   Opposition: I resign. I cannot work in these conditions. Why I must argue with this debating equivalent to some amoeba is beyond me: have you no talent?   Danny: Actually, I’m quite good at being quiet. And I’m OK at not typing for longer then I have to.   There is silence. Everyone is in a state of shock. Suddenly, as one, everyone cheers

Taxation of Cars!

Long before people started listening to me I was ranting on about car tax. Surely, I decided, if a car pollutes the environment more, and take up more UNNECESSARY space, and then it must be charged reasonably, for the harm done to us all – we do live in a capitalist society, after all, everything can be bought. A normal car - that is, a humble two-wheel drive car - is up to 3 times less polluting then most sports cars. This means that nearly all (as some of my richer friends refer to them) "decent cars" are killers. Anyway, to the point, a person who can afford one of these frightfully expensive cars can easily afford to pay a few hundred pounds more tax. Of course, they won't like this, but what’s £300 to a person driving a  £30 000 car? Its nothing! This is not supposed to be a tax on the rich; it is a tax on polluting, pointless energy-inefficient hunks of metal. They do VERY little miles per gallon (no metric please, we're British!), they need LOTS of energy to make, and they are many, many times more likely to crash. I say again, who is going to miss this (comparatively) small amount of money. Don't like it? Well, drive a more environmentally friendly car, you rich bugger. Don't like that? Then move to America, land of the sheltered wealthy, where Bush will cut your taxes, and subsidize you!  There are 21,660,475 households in Britain, holding 23,936,250 cars. remember that 27% of them don't have cars. That leaves about 15 812 146 households, with 23,936,250 cars. Let us assume that the people (all 9,486,366 households) with "only" one car don't have an expensive SUV (Sports Utility Vehicle). Let us leave them alone, they are probably overworked anyway. That leaves 14,449,884 cars, with 6,325,780 families. Hmm, that seems to leave an awful amount of taxable cars. Lets assume a tax of £300 on half of them, to be conservative. So 7,000,000 cars that’s  £2,100,000,000, or 2.1 BILLION pounds. I'm sure the NHS would appreciate this or the education system or even the roads!