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Post by JP on Nov 16, 2007 0:10:12 GMT 1
Why does the word lisp contain an S? To make it hard for the people with lisps to say they have one? |
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on Nov 17, 2007 0:11:11 GMT 1
The square of the hypoteneuse of a right angled triangle is equal to the sum of the squares on the 2 other sides
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cdk
Wow, I Can Post
Sister Of The Moon
Posts: 130 
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Post by cdk on Dec 1, 2007 1:29:38 GMT 1
Words iv'e got front to back!!!
Ought Ryan........................Wrought Iron
Mashing Washine...............Washing machine
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on Dec 2, 2007 13:12:13 GMT 1
Words iv'e got front to back!!! Ought Ryan........................Wrought Iron Mashing Washine...............Washing machine Hope you don't spoonerise Cooking Fat ;D |
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on Dec 5, 2007 22:29:21 GMT 1
Suicidal twin kills sister in error
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Post by jakemurrall7 on Dec 5, 2007 23:18:15 GMT 1
Why do we say 'an' hour, when 'h' isn't a vowel.....
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Post by PW on Dec 7, 2007 4:46:21 GMT 1
Random thought and wisdom moment at 4am...
Just because you don't believe in something, doesn't mean it doesn't exist...
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Post by covunistudent on Dec 7, 2007 4:49:40 GMT 1
Just a post to say how pointless this thread really is!
But thats not going to stop me joining in anyway!
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Post by PW on Dec 7, 2007 4:53:15 GMT 1
There's someone else awake at 4am, and on this forum! Welcome to the graveyard shift...  |
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Post by covunistudent on Dec 7, 2007 4:58:28 GMT 1
I'm not on a shift. But why are they actually called shift.
Also why is the plural of mouse mice, but the plural of house not hice.
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Post by PW on Dec 7, 2007 5:52:39 GMT 1
Good question...I might hunt wikipedia...
anyway. A slightly longer bit of nonsense in the form of my fevered mind coming up with a Coventry tale for Christmas...entitled...
I'll Wait For You
When you're as ill, and as old as me, every day you live on this earth is precious. Death is no longer a distant, faraway thing that only happens to other people-it's an old friend that whispers seductively in your ear in the middle of the night, when the pain gets bad, and the streetlamp outside casts its orange glow on your pale, sweating face as you cling on to life by your fingertips. You can feel your body shutting down, like watching lights in a tower block as people settle down for the night-bit by bit, the darkness creeps in as another spark of light, or life, winks out. By the end, it's only your mind that's telling you the tower block ever existed, and only your head telling you it'll be there in the morning. Because, unlike me, and others like me, you know there will be a morning for you. Do you know what it's like to go to sleep wondering if you'll wake up in the morning? It's not nice, I can tell you. Is it any wonder people fear getting old?
Well, for me, there's no fear. I know my personal engine is running on fumes, and will cut out at any minute. I know I'm dying, whatever the doctors may say-Mr. Cancer has got his hands on me, and that gentleman doesn't listen to pleas for mercy. At least not for me, anyway. But I'm actually looking forward to it. You look surprised-but that's because you're young. That's because, for you, life is still a mystery. I've seen everything I need to, and I know that, essentially, the majority of life is not worth the fuss. Shakespeare had it best"(Life) is a tale/Told by an idiot/Full of sound and fury, yet signifying nothing". I'm not going to miss this dirty old world much. But I am thankful for it, because it was something in this world that gave me hope for the next, many, many years ago. What, you ask? Come closer, and I'll tell you…
In the Blitz, I was a fireman, here in Coventry. Do you know anything of the history of the place? Well, the Germans blasted it, night after night. Big industrial town, you see. Lots of factories. You may have heard about the "old" cathedral, and the famous Charred Cross. You have? Well, keep that in your head, because the tale I'm telling concerns the night the Cathedral got flattened. A date that is forever burned into the hearts of true, and proud Coventrians. 14th November, 1940.
I was on firewatch duty that night-I'd just come back from leave after attending my fiancée's funeral-she was in the WRVS (sort of like the female Home Guard) Beautiful, she was-with long dark hair, and laughing eyes-I used to tell her she looked like Vivien Leigh, who I still think is one of the most gorgeous women who ever graced this earth. She was killed on the 7th November, 1940, when a unexploded German bomb went off after a raid on the street where she'd set up a soup kitchen for bombed out families-they found her in the rubble, with not a mark on her. She wouldn't even have been there except I was working late, so she'd said "I'll wait for you". She never did like walking home alone in winter. So I was angry that night-angry at Fate, and the Germans, and everyone. When the raid began, I headed for the centre. I wanted to be in the thick of it-and if I died, so be it.
And boy, was I. Have you ever seen a house hit by a bomb? It swells-you see it bulging, and then it splits apart with a roar as the fires of hell sweep from inside it. It happened near me too many times for me to count-I should have died that night even before I was called to the Cathedral, which had been hit by incendiaries. Firebombs, to you and me. I got there just as the roof caught fire. Lead, you see-burns like a torch. The whole building glowed red from the fires, the sirens wailed like animals in pain, the German planes were chug-a-chugging overhead, and the chief turns to me and shouts "get in there, son-there's stuff in there needs bringing out". You don't argue with the chief, or you didn't then, so I grabbed a hanky, soaked it, put it to my face, and in I went.
I nearly went straight back out again twice as fast-it was like the Devil had decided to take the Cathedral as his new home. The walls were burning, and molten lead was dripping from the roof-the pews were flaming, and it looked like the whole lot was about to come down any minute. So, I headed for the altar, to grab what I could. The crucifix behind it looked alive-it was curling and melting with the heat. I remember thinking "if you've got any sense, you'll go now". I didn't, though…more fool me.
Because the roof fell in on me. Flaming beams, molten lead, and nails rained on my head like some nightmarish storm, and I fell. I thought "I'm only nineteen-it can't be my time yet", as I blundered desperately through the smoke on my knees, trying to find my way out, and then, through the flames, as I dragged myself to my feet, I saw a girl, dressed in white.
You've guessed who it was, haven't you? It was Jeannie, my fiancée. Which I knew was impossible cause I'd just seen her put in the earth, but there she was. She had her hand out to me, and I reached for it-as it touched I was filled with a feeling of such peace, that all my fear (and believe me, when you're lost in a burning building, you don't feel much else) went away. She led me-I followed like a zombie-all the way to the door, then she turned, and I saw her face-she was smiling, but she had tears in her eyes. Somewhere, I heard her voice, as she said "I'll wait for you, lover" in that joking way she did when we parted-the way she had the last time I saw her. Then, I felt something brush my lips, and she was gone-which brought me back to the present-I was in a burning building in the middle of an air raid. So I did what anyone would-I ran.
Later that day, I was searching the rubble, when we came upon two charred bits of wood from the roof. They'd fallen in the shape of a cross, so (and to this day, I don't know what made me do it) I tied them together with some twine from my pocket, and leaned the cross against the wall. It seemed right, somehow…like saying thank-you without words. Someone chalked something on the wall behind it, and it took on a life of its own.
Anyway, it's been many years since then-I never married. It didn't seem right, somehow. And now, I know my time has come-I can see it in the doctor's faces, even as they tell me I'm going to be OK. I won't last the night. But I'm not scared-I know that Jeannie will be there, waiting for me. I'm a little worried, cause they say "angels fly alone" don't they? I'm sure, though, that for lovers back together after sixty or so years, they'll make an exception, though.
Well, there's the bell-the nurse'll be coming to shoo you all out now. I hope your lives are as long and as happy as mine-you've got so much to see, and so much to share when you get together with that someone special. And next time someone comes up with that old chestnut "angels fly alone," tell them that you were told differently. By someone who knows. After all, the only reason I'm still here is because I'm waiting for Jeannie to come and unlock the gate for me. Just like she did in the cathedral. Only this time, when I go through, I won't come back.
Wait for me...
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on Dec 8, 2007 2:19:47 GMT 1
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm schizophrenic
no I'm not
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Post by PW on Dec 14, 2007 0:23:46 GMT 1
Things that do matter:
Friends
Love
Happiness
Morals
Mistakes-and learning from them
Forgiving
Things that don't:
Money, and how much you have. So long as it's enough for a bit of fun, a bit of work, and a bit of indulgence now and again.
Other people's opinions.
Losing love...eventually.
Arrogant people.
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Post by Claret & Blue Army on Dec 14, 2007 22:06:27 GMT 1
If the powers that be were to ban tunnelling......would they just drive it underground?  |
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Post by Rich on Dec 15, 2007 11:16:54 GMT 1
I'v got a hangover yet I'v still managed to drag myself to my mum's laptop to post on the Dragons Den, the best Blaze forum around.
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