Deal or No Deal

A quick thought from a Deal or No Deal repeat. It’s down to the final three boxes. Two of them, high amounts of £15,000 and £50,000, in the other box is 10p.

It’s a disaster, the guy leaves with 10p. Then another contestant bizarrely declares:

“Unlucky, you played a great game and you really deserved to win”

What the fuck? Seriously, what the fuck? First of all, it’s difficult to think of anyone other than game shows contestants less deserving of handouts. Even beggars on the street have suffered, these people have shirked their work and social responsibilities, had their accommodation and travel covered by the broadcaster all to try and win huge sums of money in a game of pure luck.

Also, “played a great game”? Indeed, I’m sure he randomly guessed numbers better than most of the other contestants. It must be mind-bogglingly difficult to say nineteen numbers in a row, without guessing the same one twice. And finally, “unlucky”. Unlucky, Really? This guy was offered £20,000 by the banker. Instead he “bravely”, (some say ‘greedily’) decided to go for the £50,000.

I would love Deal or No Deal to go into the negatives. It would be far more fun to see contestants choosing between paying the studio £50,000 and winning £100,000.

Hills are shit

I’m sorry to be the one to break this news. But hill are shit. I’m sorry, but they really, really are. They’re not beautiful, marvels of nature or geology or any other euphemism academics would like to give them. They’re just shit. Now, at first glance they don’t look particularly shit, but they are cleverly deceptive like that.

I discovered this ruse yesterday. You see, I’ve recently begun training for the Kenya Cycling Challenge. This challenge is a 400km cycling journey, at high altitudes, in tropical heats during five days this February. As part of my training I’ve gotten sponsorship from a cycling tour holiday Compass Holidays, who will provide me with a bike, and great cycling routes throughout the Cotswold. On Saturday I attempted a 31km cycle journey.

A few hours and 24kms later I was still going strong. Then, unfortunately, I discovered hills are shit. The climax of this cycling route is a long climb up Cleeve Hill, the highest point in Gloucestershire (1028ft). I began brightly, but then my non-existent leg muscles got pissed off with this particular hill being especially shit and didn’t want to move anymore.

So, as clearly proven, hills are shit.

P.s. Besides training for this Kenya Cycling Challenge, I need to raise £2500. I’ve currently raised nearly £1800 and I’m hoping some team189 readers will like to contribute. Anything you are willing to give, I would gratefully receive. Please remember that this PC lab will help hundreds of children every year receive a decent education. This education which will arm them with unlimited potential and opportunities to achieve in this world. I honestly can’t think of a greater gift that can be given, so please give generously by clicking here.

Thanks.

That random guy!

Ok, so this morning sugarush comes into my room and tells me she’s about to go to work. She also mentions the landlord was in the house fixing the shower, and that some random guy (assumed to be new housemates friend) was waiting to use our bathroom.

An hour later i hear our new housemate having a conversation with this friend. This is how it basically went….

jon:  “so who are you?”

Random: “I’m xxxxxxxx, where am I?

So at this point I decided it was an appropriate time to get up and find out what the hell is going on. Jon doesnt know this guy, and in fact he is a complete random. I now remember that i heard the back door open last night, but just assumed that it was our friends from next door coming to visit in a drunken state. I was wrong.

The guy comes into the kitchen and i ask who he is and introduce myself. The first thing he said to me was ”nice hair Tim”! (i had really bad bed hair) He explained he had no idea how he got here, and didnt know what street the house was on. I tried to jog his memory by suggesting he came through from next door (we share a back garden) because he has no front door key and the wall at the back is impossible to climb (millions of feet tall).  ”No” he answered, “I cant see myself coming through next door”. Anyway slightly insulted by the hair comment I proceeded to get him out. He then decides to imform me he cant find his shoes and actually askes him he can borrow some of mine. I told him i didnt know who you are, so no!

Me and Rich then went next door to find out who he was. Apparently one of the girls staying there brought a guy back last night, and they thought he could have made his way into our house!! His shoes sat neatly in their hallway.

Bizzare day!

The Party

It is absolutely, ridiculously, cold right now. Unfortunately Sugarush is a pyscho with a fondness for leaving the back door open (she likes the draft).

As has been pointed out, I haven’t done a post about the lads’ house party last Saturday. That’s because, like the most memorable nights, i don’t actually remember too much of it. It was quite good, I think. It didn’t live up to Stu’s party at the start of the semester, but then few  (if any) nights will.

I remember Rach calling a lot, everyonbe pretty drunk, a bath tub of beer, a worringly empty bath tub, vomit on my jacket, wearing some weird  thing on my thumb and a few other things.

Hopefully we can get plans for our ‘joint house party’ (our back garden joins with that of next door) sorted within the next week or so.