Wednesday, June 24, 2009


In yet another example of the small nature of the Welsh world I learned my final university status today thanks not to a letter from the university but a text from a friend.

The Welsh department has apparently posted the degree classification (similar to a GPA, for those of you playing along at home) on the wall outside the department office. With me in Austin, Texas, at the moment everyone else knew my grade before me.

At least it's good. A 2:1, according to a lazy internet search, is roughly a 3.5 - 3.8 GPA. I've got to say I'm happy with that. And it means that I will now definitely be doing the master's degree next year.

Friday, June 12, 2009

And the pizza was good, too

When a drunken midget shows up offering to take your picture you know you've found the right bar.

Thanks again to Lucky and his lovely wife for giving me a bit of the flavour of Phoenix. As tends to be the case when I meet people, I talked nonstop.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Why irony doesn't work in certain parts of America

This is an actual letter to the editor found in the Tuesday, 9 June 2009 edition of The Spectrum ("Southern Utah's No. 1 Information Source"). Really, I am not making this up:

Don't allow rapper to perform
Why must we allow someone to bring in such a salacious, disgusting and demeaning hip-hop rapper to our city? Have we lowered our moral standards so low that we have lost all control over what our youth, in particular, are permitted to see?

The organizer says that booking such a high-profile performer is a good thing for Southern Utah. Now is the time for honest citizens of our community to step up to the plate and hit a home run for the Gipper right out of the ball park. We have it within our power to nip this in the bud. We've already lost 99.99 percent of our republic to the clowns in D.C.

Surely we have enough upright citizens left in our city to stand up and say "no." If we don't make a stand now, then we had better buy out the remaining inventory in our local gun stores because the proverbial end is at hand.

Leland Tate
St. George

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

For fuck's sake, Barclays

This is going to sound like a right-wing complaint but, honestly, Barclays needs to hire people who speak English to man their phones.

Because sometimes the person calling really needs some help. Like, oh, say, let's imagine a bloke who's in Seattle and has lost his debit card. So he calls to cancel the card, but also to ask if there's any way they can get a new card to him in the U.S., or if he can get access to his account from Seattle, because he's not going to be at his house within 10 business days so when his new card arrives at his Cardiff address it will be fuck-all useless to him since he's 6,300 fucking miles away, where he'd kind of like to be able to pay for cool things like food and petrol. In that case, Barclays, he really, really, really needs to speak to someone WHO FUCKING SPEAKS ENGLISH so that he can ask questions that aren't on some fucking cheat sheet and get answers that are intelligible.

And when he gets stuck talking to a woman who is probably lovely in every other way but whose English is insufferably far from adequate, it makes him kind of angry.