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Fencing Sculptor's Diary

The Ramblings of a Reluctant Civil Servant

Did the Totty make the Grade ?
me
fencingsculptor
It's that time of year again where the BBC News and the GMTV programme send their most awkward/geeky/uncomfortable male reporters (in Suits) to camp out in prominent Posh Academic institutions, Colleges and urban shite-holes to discover whether the school’s / colleges’ top totty (or Chav Yoof) actually gain sufficiently high enough grades to get into the polytechnic (scrub that) University of choice for their degree in Hotel Management, Sociology, or McHappy meal preparation.

Cue 30-Something journalists drooling at the cleavages of young nubile young things as unopened brown envelopes are dangled in front of them and TV cameras are garishly shoved into their bright young faces , which have yet to be subjected to the harsh and cynical realities of real life (as distinguished from Second life which they are probably more familiar with) …as they dance up and down hugging and crying over each other in fake/genuine/staged/amazment/shock/ or apathy at their results.


Surprise, surprise the Government announces results are up !
Yeah right.

Where’s the journalistic balance – eh ?
Go on, tell them how long it will take them to pay back their student loans !


Never mind me I’m old, cynical, single and never enjoyed the fun and freedom of University or a reckless youth…..

Nothing Happened Today…. (things so far)
me
fencingsculptor
I couldn’t open a jar of Pickles this morning.

After heating the lid under the tap it was still damn near impossible and I had to use all me strength to open the jar ….which it turned out was over filled and as the pressure in the lid gave way and it unscrewed I managed to cover my shirt in pickle-vinegar.

Remembered to put out a very full Wheelie bin for collection – packed it with the remaining card waste from the Bathroom renovation.
Trod on a medium sized snail by accident. Felt bad.

Took my car to a new garage for it's MOT.

Got to work a little bit late.

Am planning to go home via Wimbledon by tube to pick up some new Dr Who figures and then return to Croydon by Tram to pick up car.

Must pop out at lunch time to get a new shirt that smells less…vinigary.