WOW
A Broken Heart Rules
Didn't me old BH mucker Sean completely blow everyone away at the Brits? 'Twas a lovely surprise. On hearing his quite gargantuan (97) score at half time, I was genuinely astonished, and in a very pleasant way might I add. Then slightly later, on realising he had taken the national title when he told me his meat beast whopper (I did have one of those from BK t'other night: never never again. 'Tis the saucy veg spillage that irks me so and gets me all icky) of a best-five-round total, I felt extremely pleased for him, especially since he's been working so bloody hard at the art of quiz, and being so 'trivia-attentive' and far better at consuming relevant newsprint than me these past few years. I mean, I didn't even read a newspaper yesterday. I only looked at the BBC news and sport websites. The BBCNEWSANDSPORTWEBSITES!
And did you not see the creeping proof in his scores in my Big Quizzes? They're good for a few things (as well as driving me nicely hectic-nuts). OK, I am losing the power to place words, parantheses and severed syllables in their orthodox positions. It ain't the first time either. I have also noticed how writing in absurd phonetic hip hop speak in my current notebook is enormous fun. I have also realised that I must ensure no one, not one soul, shall see such demented scribblings in my lifetime.
As for my own showing, perhaps there will be some hilariously scathing introspection about a few of silly sloppy slip-ups ('Nid' for 'Ned', '3rd for 1st', crossing out 'fly fishing' and putting 'long cast' WHY OH WHY AND WTF!!!) and my continuing inability to read, not merely all, but at least 60 per cent of each blummin' question in a few more liberty-laden days. Yet, if truth be told, even my 'ideal score' (160 - and remember that's getting all the ones I would get in a Utopian realm where my brain runs smooth and sleek and is so utterly utterly brilliant it will be stolen by a fascinated acolyte sometime during my autopsy; the other 80 wrong guesses or clueless answer boxes being entirely understandable and never to be regretted) wouldn't have beaten the champ. And I'll be a darned Ozark-infesting hillbilly eating roadkill critters for Xmas dinner before I deign to explore the world of rugby league in enough depth to make any points difference. Some things were never meant to be. I shall hold my tongue in case offence is meted out, though admittedly, I really enjoyed watching it when I was aged about 8 or 9. There was nowt else on telly if TBT, and being a real bandwagon boy I leapt on the Wigan glory trail. Sad, je sais. But to be honest, I think I was too scared to turn on TVS in case I happened upon terrifying puppet show Terrahawks. Even years after it was ushered from our screens (and I really did like Saint and Greavsie. Even if I can only remember them chuckling at each other for what seemed like bloody hours.) Plus, it's the British rivers that get me. I mean, they're so bloody tiny compared to the ones they have on the continents. And, trust my luck, when one about my hometown river, the one I watched my brother jump into and scrap his leg off one fine summer's day near 13 years gone, it was pulled from the Battle of the Brains question pile.
In other news: I'm way too busy to be setting questions for free today (for shame, you say, and I say, I know), so you can have one randomly picked from my latest notebook.
Q1 Which 9th century AD Arab scientist and mathematician is reputed to have written the first treatise on code-breaking, On Deciphering Cryptographic Messages?
(Obviously that's not its Arabic title, but the source didn't have it, and I'm not too bothered. Though usually I would be to a irritating extent. Being a stickler for having original and translated titles in italics in the Q.)
(Remember I said I'm too preoccupied to set "questions". You can have one and that's your lot for today, and possibly tomorrow. Wait.)
Come to think of it...
I'll tell you where that Second Giant Part Is...
... when I said I would be releasing it like a fantastic bird of paradise, you know, like on that Papua New Guinea flag, into the cruel wilds of outer cyberspace, to those who had already returned part 1 by April 9. Apologies. It's still on my computer being proofed to death. I don't think there's anything wrong with it, I just happen to start looking at the whole Gestalt character of it and get the urge to take out 60 perfectly good questions and try and replace them with about 100 I think that are way more cool. But. I make this promise. Er, you'll be getting it in your inbox one day. (That way I can never truly disappoint you)
A. Al Kindi
(He probably has a really long Arabic name, but like I said blah-dee-blah, proof proof proof. Good film that. What with blind Hugo Weaving and young Russell Crowe.)
Didn't me old BH mucker Sean completely blow everyone away at the Brits? 'Twas a lovely surprise. On hearing his quite gargantuan (97) score at half time, I was genuinely astonished, and in a very pleasant way might I add. Then slightly later, on realising he had taken the national title when he told me his meat beast whopper (I did have one of those from BK t'other night: never never again. 'Tis the saucy veg spillage that irks me so and gets me all icky) of a best-five-round total, I felt extremely pleased for him, especially since he's been working so bloody hard at the art of quiz, and being so 'trivia-attentive' and far better at consuming relevant newsprint than me these past few years. I mean, I didn't even read a newspaper yesterday. I only looked at the BBC news and sport websites. The BBCNEWSANDSPORTWEBSITES!
And did you not see the creeping proof in his scores in my Big Quizzes? They're good for a few things (as well as driving me nicely hectic-nuts). OK, I am losing the power to place words, parantheses and severed syllables in their orthodox positions. It ain't the first time either. I have also noticed how writing in absurd phonetic hip hop speak in my current notebook is enormous fun. I have also realised that I must ensure no one, not one soul, shall see such demented scribblings in my lifetime.
As for my own showing, perhaps there will be some hilariously scathing introspection about a few of silly sloppy slip-ups ('Nid' for 'Ned', '3rd for 1st', crossing out 'fly fishing' and putting 'long cast' WHY OH WHY AND WTF!!!) and my continuing inability to read, not merely all, but at least 60 per cent of each blummin' question in a few more liberty-laden days. Yet, if truth be told, even my 'ideal score' (160 - and remember that's getting all the ones I would get in a Utopian realm where my brain runs smooth and sleek and is so utterly utterly brilliant it will be stolen by a fascinated acolyte sometime during my autopsy; the other 80 wrong guesses or clueless answer boxes being entirely understandable and never to be regretted) wouldn't have beaten the champ. And I'll be a darned Ozark-infesting hillbilly eating roadkill critters for Xmas dinner before I deign to explore the world of rugby league in enough depth to make any points difference. Some things were never meant to be. I shall hold my tongue in case offence is meted out, though admittedly, I really enjoyed watching it when I was aged about 8 or 9. There was nowt else on telly if TBT, and being a real bandwagon boy I leapt on the Wigan glory trail. Sad, je sais. But to be honest, I think I was too scared to turn on TVS in case I happened upon terrifying puppet show Terrahawks. Even years after it was ushered from our screens (and I really did like Saint and Greavsie. Even if I can only remember them chuckling at each other for what seemed like bloody hours.) Plus, it's the British rivers that get me. I mean, they're so bloody tiny compared to the ones they have on the continents. And, trust my luck, when one about my hometown river, the one I watched my brother jump into and scrap his leg off one fine summer's day near 13 years gone, it was pulled from the Battle of the Brains question pile.
In other news: I'm way too busy to be setting questions for free today (for shame, you say, and I say, I know), so you can have one randomly picked from my latest notebook.
Q1 Which 9th century AD Arab scientist and mathematician is reputed to have written the first treatise on code-breaking, On Deciphering Cryptographic Messages?
(Obviously that's not its Arabic title, but the source didn't have it, and I'm not too bothered. Though usually I would be to a irritating extent. Being a stickler for having original and translated titles in italics in the Q.)
(Remember I said I'm too preoccupied to set "questions". You can have one and that's your lot for today, and possibly tomorrow. Wait.)
Come to think of it...
I'll tell you where that Second Giant Part Is...
... when I said I would be releasing it like a fantastic bird of paradise, you know, like on that Papua New Guinea flag, into the cruel wilds of outer cyberspace, to those who had already returned part 1 by April 9. Apologies. It's still on my computer being proofed to death. I don't think there's anything wrong with it, I just happen to start looking at the whole Gestalt character of it and get the urge to take out 60 perfectly good questions and try and replace them with about 100 I think that are way more cool. But. I make this promise. Er, you'll be getting it in your inbox one day. (That way I can never truly disappoint you)
A. Al Kindi
(He probably has a really long Arabic name, but like I said blah-dee-blah, proof proof proof. Good film that. What with blind Hugo Weaving and young Russell Crowe.)
posted by That Quiz Guy at 1:38 AM
1 Comments:
Al Kindi's full name was Abū Yūsuf Yaʻqūb ibn Isḥāq al-Kindī - he was the answer to one of my SS questions in the Mastermind Semi - and I couldn't remember the bugger's name!
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