The Roar

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All he could remember from the speech was saying “Thank you” and descending the steps from the stage.
“Great speech!” said his assistant. “Inspiring!”
He thought for a moment. Still a blank.
“What speech?”
The audience, applauding even louder, shouted for more.
He looked at his notes.
Blank.
“Go ahead,” said his assistant, pressing a sheaf of paper in his hand. “Give them an encore.”
“An encore of what?”
He looked at the new set of notes.
Also blank.
He shrugged, stood up, and raised his fist in the air as he walked back up the stairs to the stage.

LD

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Andrew Ian Dodge does his usual political scrying and reports…

Another weekend and more a consolidation of Lib-Dem scandals than any new ones. Readers of the News of the Screws were greeted with an interview and picture of the ballet dancer/rent-boy involved with Mark Oaten. Considering how much the guy makes and charges its more like Mortgage boy.
Steyn makes an interesting point:
Forty per cent of Lib Dems now say they want Charles Kennedy back in charge. Another week, and the rest will be happy to take Jeremy Thorpe.
Lib-Dems seem to think the scandals won’t hurt them at all. Their plummeting polling numbers are an illusion I guess.

How about some unicorns?

Tossers

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Spotters located asteroids.
Grabbers grabbed asteroids.
Shovers retrieved asteroids.
Chewers pulverized asteroids.
Sniffers analyzed asteroids.
And Gulpers ate them for sorting and processing.
Thanks to goofball rules held over from Terran Days, there were also Packers and Tossers. They packed the tailings back into dense balls of spacerock and launched them back into the belt.
Sometimes, tossers liked to have a little fun, whizzing a million-ton boulder inches from a control pod or a cruise ship.
Tosser 7-D used millimeters instead of inches. Another holdover from Terran Days, that stupid Metric System.
Bye bye, Titanic. We’re still counting the bodies.

Muso

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Andrew Ian Dodge ponders the life of a musician and why one gets into music:

I was thinking today about being a musician and having a band. It struck me that the old adage is really rather true. You start a band to get laid. No matter how much we prattle on about wanting to “express ourselves;” its all crap. Not that there is anything wrong with this, but I do rather tire of twits like that knob out of Coldplay going on about doing music to “change the world”. I am sure one of the reasons most musos jump at charity causes is because of guilt. Very few give a damn about the cause.

I find it all highly amusing.

Sammy was the Sole Survivor

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Five kilometers past Strayhorn Reef was where the map said the lost freighter exploded and sank.
Bits and pieces of the vessel littered the ocean floor, if 2-ton glowing chunks of iron and steel could be described as a bit or piece.
The only survivor of the wreck was a one-legged parrot. All it said was “Sammy!”
The investigators tried to coax more out of the parrot, using crackers and peanuts, but all it ever said was “Sammy!”
Divers went down, but never came up. Even when tagged, their signal would vanish.
And so did they.
“Sammy!” shrieked the parrot.

Galloway’s Fatwah

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Andrew Ian Dodge tells of Galloways booting from the Big Brother house…

George Galloway, late of the Big Brother house and his booed exit, will not only learn that the Serious Fraud Office is after his arse, but those to whom he considers himself a saviour. It seems there has been a serious backlash amoungst Muslims about his antics in the BB house. In fact one group. The Saved Sect has launched a fatwa against him; claiming he is “an animal” and claimed he is “a man of low intellect and morality.” Well, I never, something we can agree with radical Islamists on. Who’d a thunk it? I mean really…odd innit?

Maybe he will be going to the Big House next?

Scenario D

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“Scenario D,” said a voice.
Darkness everywhere, his ears ringing.
Was he indoors? Outdoors?
Ed thumbed the switch on the flashlight.
Dead.
He twisted off the top, rattled out the batteries, and felt for the poles.
He put the flashlight back together, and flicked the switch again.
Still dead.
Ed felt around the ground, but it felt somewhere between concrete and pavement.
No ambient noise. The ringing.
“HELLO!” he yelled.
No echo. Or…
“HELLO!”
The ringing wasn’t helping.
He got down on the ground and crawled around Scenario D for what seemed like hours.
“My name is Ed,” he mumbled.