The CavBlog

Monday, September 27, 2004

A Pint? That's almost an armful!!!

Now this has to come over to the UK. People in the Czech Republic are being offered two free pints of beer if they become blood donors.

What a brilliant scheme. Pint out pint in!


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And you thought I was a bad writer

Why aren't these guys novelists by now? All quotes are allegedly from Scottish English Language exam papers...


She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a tumble dryer

Her hair glistened in the rain like nose hair after a sneeze.

She caught your eye like one of those pointy hook latches that used to dangle from doors and would fly up whenever you banged the door open again.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn't.

McMurphy fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a paper bag lled with vegetable soup.

Her eyes were like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre

Her vocabulary was as bad as, kinda' like,sorta, whatever.

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease

Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Ballina at 6:36 pm travelling at 55 mph, the other from Claremorris 4:19pm at a speed of 35 mph.

The politician was gone but unnoticed, like the full stop after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

The red brick wall was the colour of a brick-red crayon.

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for while.

"Oh, Jason, take me!" she panted, her breasts heaving like a student on 50p-a-pint night.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a dustcart reversing.

It hurt theway your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.

Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.


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"They're coming to get you Barbara!"

Well, it's been a while but I'm back. Launching three new comics is no easy job I can tell you. But rush out and buy Jetix and Duel Masters now kids, in all good newsagents.

In a moment when I've been able to get out of the office I spotted "The Night of the Living Dead: Barbara's Zombie Chronicles", a new comic from Dead Dog.

Hmmm. An interesting premise. The story picks up years later when old Babs finds herself cut off from the world and surrounded by the undead. Bummer.

Artwise, the comic is ok, espiecially when recreating scenes from the movie. However, I'm just not sure about Barbara herself. There's no way the screw-loose, panic-striken Babs of the movie could become the hard-as-nails, kick-ass Ripley clone of the comic. Nope, I see her being eaten by a zom in a nut-house rather than leading a team to victory.

There's a nice twist in the tale however when a government scientists blunders into the story.

I'll be interested in seeing where this one goes.


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