An Atom is the basic unit of ordinary matter, and for you today, we have one here called Matt.
"Hello!!" says Matt. Matt is very old. But, he is also on the run. Yes children, Matt is hiding from somebody! Because, he holds a secret, or more accurately, the key to some knowledge that some people want. He has taken a day out from his journey through space and time to be in this story, today. Matt was born on the 4th of January, 13.73 ± 0.12 billion years ago. Yes that's right, he is older than Maggie Thatcher. Over to you, Matt, to tell your story!
"Hello!!! I am an atom, and I am attracted to you. No! I'm not trying to chat you up, I am an atom for Pete's sake. I am a naked singularity, now now don't get excited, that just means I managed to get away to be on my own without any blackholes or stuff. These things you should know, to understand my story.
"I got expelled from Atom school, just before all the hot shit kicked off. When everything exploded, everybody else forgot all about me, and went off all over the place at ever increasing speeds creating planets and stars and stuff. The only one that bothered with me was John, John Field. But that was only because he was omnipresent throughout space and time, so it was hard to get away from him really. I watched loads of atoms I knew before going over their Chandrasekhar Limit, and even hovered around the Event Horizon, in case I could save them and they'd like me again. But sadly, though I have trod many different Geodesics, everybody has either been sucked into a supermassive blackhole, or are stuck together with loads of other people that forgot me by something called Gravity, or suchlike.
"I am an anomaly, because I travel alone. Nobody knows about me, though some suspect me. Some bastards called CERN have been chasing me, indirectly, for years. Back before civilisation began, some weird things calling themselves "men" tried to invent an ideology of me, made me into some super powerful omniscient thing. But they were idiots.
"In the year 4,064,394,635,886 AD, I have seen that Robert Winkleman will find me by reading Nostradamus backwards in Spanish. Until then, I have to go, I have to catch the 16:05 Electromagnetic Field Transport Service to see Mr Doppler, who's red. If that bloody Neutrino would move his fat nucleus out the way. Salut!"
Here ends today's assembly, I hope you got all that children. Have a nice day.
Thursday, 11 September 2008
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Astral Conversions between Metric and Rhetoric with Patrick Moore
There was an Alien called Derek who sought a storyline.
He couldn't find one.
His friend was out laughing at earth, and found an apple corer.
"Derek! A corer!" the friend said.
The Robert Maxwell ate a chicken and mushroom pie, with a cereal in his garden growing like a bus in London goes around the streets. Street is a town near The Clarke's Village, where they sell cheap shoes and other assorted toss. I got a free extra ice cream cone there once, cos the girl making the ice cream broke the one the ice cream was in.
Well anyway, Rimsky Korsakov opened a cafe in Stourbridge. It wasn't very good, and was expensive, but was good when it was raining. Toulouse is a french town slightly bigger than a few others. Bigger than Street I think.
Still. No. Better. Than. Beforrrrrre. Sang a singer while I was struggling with what to write. Alliteration.
A little ration can go a long way, said an old woman in 1946. She won the war, the war of words with William Wordsworth of Woolworth's fame. And William Wilberforce, played by Melanie Gibson Les Paul.
This blog isn't very good. Try to find a subtext or something.
Captain subtext!
Init Tho
He couldn't find one.
His friend was out laughing at earth, and found an apple corer.
"Derek! A corer!" the friend said.
The Robert Maxwell ate a chicken and mushroom pie, with a cereal in his garden growing like a bus in London goes around the streets. Street is a town near The Clarke's Village, where they sell cheap shoes and other assorted toss. I got a free extra ice cream cone there once, cos the girl making the ice cream broke the one the ice cream was in.
Well anyway, Rimsky Korsakov opened a cafe in Stourbridge. It wasn't very good, and was expensive, but was good when it was raining. Toulouse is a french town slightly bigger than a few others. Bigger than Street I think.
Still. No. Better. Than. Beforrrrrre. Sang a singer while I was struggling with what to write. Alliteration.
A little ration can go a long way, said an old woman in 1946. She won the war, the war of words with William Wordsworth of Woolworth's fame. And William Wilberforce, played by Melanie Gibson Les Paul.
This blog isn't very good. Try to find a subtext or something.
Captain subtext!
Init Tho
Friday, 5 September 2008
A Precision Pizza to go, in Togo
The Land of Herrytatlerbonch. Situated far north of the south, over some mountains and back down again, the Land, and it's main city, lie in content confinement. The folk of Herrytatlerbonch, or Singers as they are known, are THE most precise race in the world, literally they have a word for everything. A blue table has a different word to say, a red one, because they are different things. They have no adjectives, because everything that can be described is already precise enough with the actual noun, such is their obsession with precision. Their language is always incomprehensible to us, because there are so many words, most of which are for objects and things we have never even experienced.
Anyway, their main man, called Merrytackleborough V2.04, went out exploring one day, up to the north. He would not DARE go south, because sadly the Singers had waged many wars upon the peoples in their nether, and had put many spaniards in their works throughout the years. The Singers were HATED even, by these people. So Merrytackleborough V2.04 went exploring, and came across a forest and nearly died. It was in a new shape he had never seen before, and he couldn't think of a name for this shape! Now, to us, it's best described as like a pizza slice shape, a triangle section of a circle, so like the edge is round. But pizza wasn't even invented at this time, and Merrytackleborough V2.04, quite understandably, was panicking. Why couldn't he think of a new word? He quickly realised that the phonetic base his whole kingdom (or mainmandom) was built on, had run out of new combinations. Oh NO!!!!!!!! God, he thought, if my people hear about this, what on Earth would they think? I would be ousted, jousted, and generally toasted, for my lack in the hour of need. So he had to think fast. Maybe he could try and use a word nobody had used for a while. No, he thought, somebody will remember it, probably that bloody Gearantrypod in the Office of Fair Wording. He had to go.....south. To ask the neighbours, if they either had a word, or if he could use some of their phonetics, so that he could return victorious as a revolutionary, a pioneer in his daze.
Off he went, with a bottle of rum and a puddle. Sorry, a poodle. He asked the Geantriarchists, just south of the border. They told him to go away. He asked the Artlipiddles, and they said something he didn't understand. He kept going, manically, through the Lirdssss, Munchangos, Livelifelikeapoolers, Broomgrowers and the Welsh. But nobody would help him, because of his forfathers, or more precisely (as this is what the story is about, precision), his four fathers.
So he disappeared travelling the world trying to find somebody somewhere that didn't think the Singers of Herrytatlerbonch were complete and utter barstools, and had a word or two going free.
That's how Herrytatlerbonch lost their Mainman and their phonetic integrity because the Italians hadn't invented Pizza yet.
Anyway, their main man, called Merrytackleborough V2.04, went out exploring one day, up to the north. He would not DARE go south, because sadly the Singers had waged many wars upon the peoples in their nether, and had put many spaniards in their works throughout the years. The Singers were HATED even, by these people. So Merrytackleborough V2.04 went exploring, and came across a forest and nearly died. It was in a new shape he had never seen before, and he couldn't think of a name for this shape! Now, to us, it's best described as like a pizza slice shape, a triangle section of a circle, so like the edge is round. But pizza wasn't even invented at this time, and Merrytackleborough V2.04, quite understandably, was panicking. Why couldn't he think of a new word? He quickly realised that the phonetic base his whole kingdom (or mainmandom) was built on, had run out of new combinations. Oh NO!!!!!!!! God, he thought, if my people hear about this, what on Earth would they think? I would be ousted, jousted, and generally toasted, for my lack in the hour of need. So he had to think fast. Maybe he could try and use a word nobody had used for a while. No, he thought, somebody will remember it, probably that bloody Gearantrypod in the Office of Fair Wording. He had to go.....south. To ask the neighbours, if they either had a word, or if he could use some of their phonetics, so that he could return victorious as a revolutionary, a pioneer in his daze.
Off he went, with a bottle of rum and a puddle. Sorry, a poodle. He asked the Geantriarchists, just south of the border. They told him to go away. He asked the Artlipiddles, and they said something he didn't understand. He kept going, manically, through the Lirdssss, Munchangos, Livelifelikeapoolers, Broomgrowers and the Welsh. But nobody would help him, because of his forfathers, or more precisely (as this is what the story is about, precision), his four fathers.
So he disappeared travelling the world trying to find somebody somewhere that didn't think the Singers of Herrytatlerbonch were complete and utter barstools, and had a word or two going free.
That's how Herrytatlerbonch lost their Mainman and their phonetic integrity because the Italians hadn't invented Pizza yet.
Tuesday, 2 September 2008
The Return of the Space Cowboy
Hello and Welcome to this week's edition of...Playschool
Yes.
There were (at least) once three Eagles. One was called Glen (who had a terrible sense of direction), one was called Chris (who just followed Glen), and the third was called...erm, Eddie or something. They lived in a nest, high up in a tree, above a smaller nest below. In that nest lived a cuckoo, called Cuckoo.
Anyway. One day, they heard a story of a Cowboy!!!!!! Called Drecksack. He rode horses and shot people drinking milk and did rodeos and line danced and wore great boots. But he wasn't happy. He had a lovely little cowgirl wife called Margarine and he loved her, but not in a way that she wanted. He loved her shoes, she wanted him to love her heart, which he couldn't do. He moved to Space, which is a small town in Tennesse. There, he met Johnny Cash, 3 years after his death. He told him: Son, if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough. Drecksack knew that already. So he got a vaccuum from a man in a green hat called Luigi, and got rid of the Ghost in Black.
Ahhh the eagles, where do they come in?????? I hear you yelp in tense exasperation. Well, they loved Johnny Cash, and his ghost even more so, as with his ghost often came that little plucked bass sound he used to have in his songs, like in Folsom Prison Blues, to beat of what would normally be his footsteps. They wanted revenge!!!!!! For such a blasphemous an callous act. They flew out, but Glen with his bad sense of direction went the wrong way, with Chris in quick pursuit. The other one flew over the cuckoo's nest, so he squawked and the other two followed. Eddie or something was piste as a newt, as he ate one along the way.
They got to Drecksack's house, pecked a hole in his roof over a period of 6 to 8 months, and then clawed him when he came home from work. Whack, Whack, kapoosh, clang.
They carried him back to his orignal town. and do you know what he said? The cheeky sod, you're not going to believe this man's cheek. He said:
"I never left this town, I just took a 3 year vacation."
But the joke was on him, Margarine had found a baker and was with him now instead, so Drecksack just had to shoot those darn sonuvvabeeches till he was blue in the hand.
Next up on Playschool, how to make beans on toast from paper, and pva glue!
Yes.
There were (at least) once three Eagles. One was called Glen (who had a terrible sense of direction), one was called Chris (who just followed Glen), and the third was called...erm, Eddie or something. They lived in a nest, high up in a tree, above a smaller nest below. In that nest lived a cuckoo, called Cuckoo.
Anyway. One day, they heard a story of a Cowboy!!!!!! Called Drecksack. He rode horses and shot people drinking milk and did rodeos and line danced and wore great boots. But he wasn't happy. He had a lovely little cowgirl wife called Margarine and he loved her, but not in a way that she wanted. He loved her shoes, she wanted him to love her heart, which he couldn't do. He moved to Space, which is a small town in Tennesse. There, he met Johnny Cash, 3 years after his death. He told him: Son, if a man's gonna make it, he's gotta be tough. Drecksack knew that already. So he got a vaccuum from a man in a green hat called Luigi, and got rid of the Ghost in Black.
Ahhh the eagles, where do they come in?????? I hear you yelp in tense exasperation. Well, they loved Johnny Cash, and his ghost even more so, as with his ghost often came that little plucked bass sound he used to have in his songs, like in Folsom Prison Blues, to beat of what would normally be his footsteps. They wanted revenge!!!!!! For such a blasphemous an callous act. They flew out, but Glen with his bad sense of direction went the wrong way, with Chris in quick pursuit. The other one flew over the cuckoo's nest, so he squawked and the other two followed. Eddie or something was piste as a newt, as he ate one along the way.
They got to Drecksack's house, pecked a hole in his roof over a period of 6 to 8 months, and then clawed him when he came home from work. Whack, Whack, kapoosh, clang.
They carried him back to his orignal town. and do you know what he said? The cheeky sod, you're not going to believe this man's cheek. He said:
"I never left this town, I just took a 3 year vacation."
But the joke was on him, Margarine had found a baker and was with him now instead, so Drecksack just had to shoot those darn sonuvvabeeches till he was blue in the hand.
Next up on Playschool, how to make beans on toast from paper, and pva glue!
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