The Sadistic Art Of Pumpkin Carving.

Who was it that came up with this daft idea? I bet it was the Protestants.
Still, as a little'un I used to cherish the afternoon spent elbow depth in a stringy, weird smelling vegetable. Actually, it might be a fruit...ask the Protestants.
However, I have come to question the logic of carving a face into said plant. You see, this year I think we should all carve dentists into them. It'd do a better job of scaring away the children high on sugar- et voila! The children's teeth are mercifully saved by our artistic genius, and willingness to break the tradition of triangular toothed, slit eyed fregetables (I still haven't decided if it's a fruit or a vegetable.) and we get to keep the sweets. A great night for everybody.
Should the dentist pumpkin fail, I will just have to open the door and insist on reciting the first 15 stanzas of Virgil's Aeneid. That'll teach them.
A nugget of wisdom: (this is not so much a nugget of wisdom, as something that was just requested of me) My mum just told me to make pumpkin cake. PUMPKIN CAKE. I CAN FEED THIS TO THE CHILDREN. MWHOA HAHAHHAHAHAAAA. They won't know what hit them.

Half three...

Ahreet, pet?
For those of you who don't speak Geordie, that was 'Alright, pet?'. One day my Geordie will be fluent.
Apparently the people of America don't say the time like we do. This is what I learnt last night. "Half three" seems to confuse them a tad. Perhaps I should explain what happened....
The beauty of webcams, my friends, something to ponder. How to use a webcam, something greater to ponder. I have absolutely no idea. I let Emma fiddle about with it, and smiled and waved at appropriate intervals. Anyhow, it was such a laugh- I've never been high fived over the t'interwebs before. Try it.
Cures for headaches, people? Fatherman thought I'd been 'on the lash'...no such luck.
A  nugget of wisdom: never leave Emma near traffic. It can only end badly.

-Daphne.

Pennies, Prince Philip, and Jeremy Clarkson.

I wonder what it's like to have your head on a penny?
Man, imagine if the queen didn't like her profile...that'd grate on you. Everytime you opened your purse to have just your one eye staring back out at you...
On the subject of the royal family, bless 'em, I have some excellent Prince Philip quotes. Gotta love Philip. If I was in the Royal family I'd set my goals in life to be exactly as fantastically blunt as he is. Like Jeremy Clarkson. But Jezza's amazing for a very different type of honesty...
After being told Madonna was singing the Die Another Day theme in 2002: "Are we going to need ear plugs?"
"You ARE a woman, aren't you?" Kenya, 1985.
At a Bangladeshi youth club in 2002:“So who’s on drugs here?... HE looks as if he’s on drugs.”
"People think there’s a rigid class system here, but dukes have even been known to marry chorus girls. Some have even married Americans.” 2000.
On robots colliding, Science Museum, 2000: “They’re not mating are they?”

This is why I love the royal family. Even Prince Philip.
A nugget of wisdom: sneezing cures hiccups. Apparently.

-Daphne

Half Term, and Nicknames.

Oi, oi. I hath been away, mortals. I do apologise, yet now it is half term, so I will go on a vigorous blogging spree to make up for my absence. You love it, really. So stop your groaning.
How was your week? Mine's gone by in a whirlwind of education, foreign languages, and Facebook. Are you proud?
I can't tell you what a relief half term is. I have been working like a maniac. More of a maniac than I normally am, that is. And I'm gunna spend it well. Aside from the horrendous set of revision, coursework/ homework, and reading list I've got, I plan on doing a crawl of the vintage quarter in "Bridders" as I like to call it. (Where's that when he's at home? Bridport- yes I realise the question doesn't make sense. Go with it. Most of things I say won't make sense, FOOL.) This crawl of said vintage quarter will be succeeded by Coffee, and stressful makeup-dash in 'Boots', with my fellow psychopath-in-training, Mu. Mu is her nickname. And it's a beastly nickname, no?
As for nicknames, I have a couple: George (Lieutenant George), Lesbia (from Catullus' poems), and of course the general love, dear, babe, doll, bro, etc etc.
A nugget of wisdom: Cake is love. Have I expressed this sentiment to you before?
God save the Queen. Long live Bollywood.

-Daphne

Imperfect Tense, The Post Office, and Coffee.

Everyone, everyone! I'm back! It's okay, guys, I know you were beside yourselves with worry because I did not post anything last night, but they didn't catch me. My unicorns are safe. And the mermaids are back in the pond. *phew*
So, whatchoo 'orrible lot been up to of late? I, myself, have been experiencing the woes and considerable stress of mountainous piles of homework. I may gouge my eyes out so I have an excuse when my Latin tutor asks why my recital of the imperfect tense of irregular verbs is a bit shakey still. Sounds like a plan, no?
Ach. I think the lady in the post office hates me. *twitch* It's probably because every two weeks I have her filling out customs paperwork. "Where to, love?" "America." "Oh, okay..." *panic attack*
Poor woman. Meh. She's getting paid for it. Make the wench work, is what I say.
God save the Queen. Long live Bollywood.
A nugget of wisdom: The best men are like coffee: rich, warm, and keep you up all night.
-Daphne.

Stalkers, Professor Green, and Dolphin Rape.

You. Yes, you. It's me...don't tell the others. Okay, fine. But only when he says "Nymphora is go." Or else my emotionally unstable frog may take aim for February.
Hands up if that made sense to you?
If you put your hand up, you're wrong. I don't even understand it, and I wrote it. Fool.
Anyways, good afternoon to you. I suppose if you're still reading this, you're expecting something from me. Maybe not great things. Maybe not intelligent, witty, or well thought out things. But definitely something. So here it is: viva la fiesta! No. No, I joke. The real thing is this: my mate collected really creepy/stalkerish photos of some sixth former she's obssessed with. Her mum found them, and asked who this poor bloke was, and she told her it was Professor Green. Uhm...
Anyway, this is all.
God save the Queen. Long live Bollywood.
A nugget of wisdom: Dolphins are, apparently, the only other mammal that rapes. DUN DUN DUUUUN.

-Daphne.

The Post Office, Game Show Music, and the Pope.

Good morrow to you, reader. How are you? Scratch that, you never answer, FOOL.
I have been awake since 6.30 AM. I didn't think this ungodly hour existed on a Saturday. Why does the world hate me?! /despair/ Anyhow, child-sitting today was as expected. They nagged me to feed them, to take them to the park, to play the piano, and to watch DVDs with them. I can't even play the damn piano. Nevermind, it's work. And I sure as heck need it.
Moving onward, and upward. Did you know they close the post office at twelve thirty on a Saturday in my village? This frustrated me to no end, today. Now I can't send my urgent titterings afar to other lands 'til Monday. Do you realise the immense physical, mental, and emotional pain this brings me? No? Okay, then...bit awkward, now, isn't it?
Game show music. Does it mean to be that patronising? Or is it a natural talent it possesses? Argh.
OH. I know what I can tell you mere mortals. Today I watched a show about the Vatican. Personally, I found the most interesting thing to be that there's a River Tiber in the Vatican. Presumably named after the Roman Emperor Tiberius?
Not that a wrinkly old guy doesn't interest me. [Of course, I understand that it's not just his 'Olay re-energise' lacking skin that is important it's the fact that he is apparently Christ's representative on Earth. Hum...]
Nugget of wisdom: "Someone should tell the queen about 'Cash For Gold'..."

-Daphne

Post. Americans (again). And Glory.

Hey guys. Hey...hey guys...it's me. I'm back again. No, you did not escape my sticky little paws. Ew. Not like that...jeez. Anyway, hello. How are you?
Today was so great for just one thing: I got a letter. I never get letters. And it was a good letter. It wasn't even from myself. I know. Be jealous.
It was a letter from America. [INSERT AWE HERE] Yeah-huh. It has a stamp that says 'USA' in typically American white font. And the best part about it? The absolute LEGEND that sent it to me addressed it to Miss (my real name) H. (lots and lots of letters). This is actually how they addressed it: minus the italics. You see, I have a very long last name. Anyhow, I found this highly amusing.
Please feel free to join me basking in the glory of having post.
God save the Queen. Long live Bollywood. [This is my new sign off, you like?]
A nugget of wisdom: If you broke it, it doesn't matter if you don't know what it is.

-Daphne

The Fuhrer, Walking £5 Notes, and Vincent Van Gogh.

'allo, 'allo, 'allo. It's me...and I have a quote for you 'orrible lot. It's nothing stuffy, or meaningful, so save your judgemental tutting. As said by my close friend Caitlin: "Oh yeah...Hitler! [unsurpressed joy] If you're going to be a fascist, at least do it properly!"
Now, make what you will of that. I found it amusing.
Ugh. I have to babysit on Saturday morning. I wouldn't mind, but...children. Awake. At an ungodly hour of the morning. Me. Lacking caffeine. Numnumnumnum...it's fine, I'll just look at the kids as  giant fivers. "Oh, hello walking fiver- I mean [insert name of fiver/child] ..."
Did you know Don Maclean's song 'Vincent' (Which I love, and want played at my funeral. Failing that, at least my wedding.) was about Vincent Van Gogh? Listen to it, and you'll realise. Incase you're not familiar with Van Gogh's work; he did a very famous painting called 'Starry Night', which is why the chorus is "Starry starry night..." Anyhow, it's a blimin' good song. Trust me, chaps.
A nugget of wisdom: If he spends longer on his hair than you do, he's a waste of time.

-Daphne

The Delicat Art of Offending Someone Subtly.

Goodmorrow, all. Now, I'm not condoning arguing, offence, and rudeness. HOWEVER, it has come to my attention that people just aren't very good with wit, and subtlety in the heat of an argument or a sudden gush of rage.
Lately, I was granted  the bittersweet amusement of reading two girls have a right proper bitch. Now, I noticed they resorted quite a lot to calling the subject of their hormonal e-bitchslaps a few choicy words for 'prostitute'. I won't repeat them. Anyhow, I think it's time I offer you all a slightly more educated way of insulting people who may or may not be said undesirable adjectives. Here goes my list:

• Fool
• Malt-horse
• Foot-licker
• Moron
• Mistake
• Underling
• Inferior
• Tongueless mumbling slug
• Leprous witch

There's just a few. Enjoy. Use them wisely, mortals. For tomorrow: lord only knows, tomorrow, the exchange rate of Deutschmarks will be different. Or rather, it would be, if this was 1923. This is what I learnt in History today.
Happy Holidays. God save the Queen. Long live Bollywood.

A nugget of wisdom: THERE IS AN 'I' IN TEAM.
-Daphne

Ben Howard, Mutinous Frogs, and Rifle Targets.

Evenin' all. I just want to take a moment to thank my amazing friend, Emma, for introducing me to the music of the WONDERFUL Ben Howard. His music is amazing. So calm, and meaningful. I love his voice, it's simply beautiful. Go look him up, and spread the love a bit.
Otherwise, avid blog stalker, you may be punched in the ovaries by a mutinous frog. That is correct. A mutinous frog. To the ovaries. So, go listen to his stuff, or feel the wrath.
THE WRATH, I SAY.
Know what I love? No, not you. Okay, yes you. But something else too. I love people who keep the things you give them. I jokingly picked up twigs and gave them to my friends going "Take this 'ere friendship twig..." and they kept them. I was so chuffed. Chuffed to buggery. Infact, I myself (and the twin sister I share a room with) have a huge corkboard that we pin keepsakes to. I have hug coupons, birthday cards, art works, key rings from Paris, letters, postcards, flowers for my hair, The Queen of Hearts, rifle targets, photographs, the British flag, pictures my friends drew of me, newspaper clippings, little lovehearts, pinned up there! The works! But there's a corner nearest my pillow that I'm saving for anything really special. Not that the other stuff isn't, but, you get the point.

A nugget of wisdom: Hold your own. When you do, you're yourself. When you don't you're not, and should check yourself for any other traits schizophrenia.

Daphne.

Why I hate 6.23 AM.

My dear blog stalking wonder, how are you? Well, I hope, and what did you do today?
As ever, I woke up with the devil on my shoulder still trying to convince me that it's Sunday. Blimin' thing. My stomach dropped when I realised that not only was it Monday at precisely 6.23 AM (The worst time of day to open your eyes, because you see that there are seven more minutes to sleep through, before you really do have to get up, but you can't go back to sleep because it's pointless. Somehow I always get up 15 minutes late anyway...however, ENOUGH OF THIS. Jeez.) but also, my first lesson was English with the grammar Nazi. Such fun.
Enough of my woe. You're probably wondering what kind of treat I have for you today. Well, my lovelies, I have this: LOL. CBA. FTW. Etc. Etc.
I only picked those example because I'm more than 50% sure what they mean. The rest are all Greek to me. I swear, every time I see those letters written in blasphemous succession of one another, I die a little more inside.
So, yeah. That's all, folks. Happy Holidays. God save the Queen. Don't drugs.

A nugget of wisdom: Someone, somewhere, is thinking about you. So  send your death rays, and see if they'll squirm. Heh...heh...So not a psychopath.

-Daphne

Jumpers, Autumn, and Sadistic Leaf-Killing Machines.

Good evening, everyone. How was your weekend?
I did a lot of work. However, I'm still alive. Just. Plus, my friend sent me the link I shared with you 'orrible lot at an earlier date, that allows you to check yourself for signs of being a pschopath. Remember the one? Ironically enough, it was the very friend who I said was a pschopath. She told me I ought to check...
Good news, wisdom-seekers, I bought myself a massive knitted jumper from good ol' Primarni (that's Primark, by the way...it's an ironic play on words. Armani? Primark? Primarni? No? I should stop explaining the joke). Buy jumpers at least three or four sizes too big. That's what I do, because then you're never short of a huge, woolly thing to fall asleep on the settee in. I know, how quaint.
I think it must finally be Autumn, because suddenly I have the obscure urge to stand on every single dead leaf I find in the village. Infact, I will go out of my way to stand on a particularly curled up, crunchy-looking leaf, just for the sadistic pleasure of the brief one up-manship that comes with it.
DON'T JUDGE ME.
A nugget of wisdom: flying is easy, it's just falling to the ground and missing.
-Daphne

Goodmorrow, all of you. How are you? My friend Emma has been feeling blue. Woah. I just had a sudden image of her a la avatar. Anyhow, I should just like to ponder the situation for a moment. Advice. Now, I seem to have a bit of a reputation amongst my people for advice. I don't know how, or why, because mostly I'm terrible with advice, I'm scared I'm being patronising or overly sympathetic. So to avoid that I dig into the realms of sarcasm, wit, and a bit of a "never mind, pick yourself up, you'll be fine" sort of manner. That is, of course, unless I'm really paying attention.
Today is jeans for genes day. For those who don't know what that is, it's a day on which you wear jeans to support charities supporting medical research around genetic disorders. Thus, I've been doing that awkward skinny jean shuffle a lot. You didn't need to know that, but if you're still reading this, there must be some part of you that craves the weird things I tell you.
For example, today I also watched a mob rampage about my school, looking for some poor girl they all wanted to do something or another to. Nothing pleasant that's for sure. Although, from what I've heard, she had it coming. BUT, I am not here to gossip to the general public.
A nugget of wisdom: my friend Keesh says "Remember children, if an adult gives you drugs; take them. Drugs are expensive."
DON'T DO DRUGS. I feel I should share something like this: http://health-and-wellbeing.greatvine.com/browse-experts/addictions?utm_source=google&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=health&gclid=CM2x-JqP16sCFWMntAodun6nOA to counter balance that nugget of wisdom.

-Daphne

Love, Cake, Quotes.

Salutations, mortals. This evening we blog. And we're jumping in at the deep end. With no arm bands. Nervous? Good.
Love. It's almost sickening. Bleugh. In many respects I can't stand that word- it's overused to the point where it doesn't mean anything. But, on the other hand I think if there's one thing many a great novel/poem/song tries to teach us, it's the value of love. And it's force amongst humans. Where would you be without the love of your parents, guardians, sisters, brothers, and all the rest of them? Where would you be without your husband, or your wife? Your children? Your closest friends? Who knows...?
How do you know you're in love? Is it like the love a chubby kid has for cake? (I'm not discriminating against chubby kids. I love cake.)
'When you fall in love it is a temporary madness.' (-Captain Corelli's Mandolin)
"'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightening it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it." -Cervantes.
Today I heard the funniest quote from one philosopher or another: "Lord, make me chasty. But not just yet..."
So, maybe I'm not qualified to give advice, but if you read Catullus Poem 5, you will find something you can relate to. He tells his love, Lesbia, to live in the moment, that suns may come and go, but once their brief light is out the night is perpetual. And they must confuse their many kisses, but forever hold them dear.
Yeah. I know. Even I amaze myself, sometimes.
A nugget of wisdom: Apparently true love lasts forever. I will always love cake.
-Daphne

The Bottle Opener: A Pointless Invention.

To whom it may concern,
What a fool you are. Why in Pete's good name, did you event the bottle opener? It's a mouthful of letters I hate. It takes forever to type without accidently typing 'bopple otener' and, well, let's face it, if people opened bottles with their teeth, there wouldn't be so many lonely dentists. Dentists get lonely too, y'know?
Now, my very mortal sidekick (Andy. Oh, hey Andy. Yes, yes, fine. You too, Keesh.) poses the question, why don't they just use screw tops?
Well, inferior, it's because it's always more fun to watch people attempt to take said lid off bottle by banging it against the table, then failing miserably, and smashing the thing a lil bit. What a laugh.
Yours,
-Daphne.

DAPHNE HAS A FACEBOOK 'LIKE' PAGE

Guys! Go like this page! You know you want to...
Because you love me really. Even you. YES, YOU.

DAPHNE HAS A FACEBOOK 'LIKE' PAGE

How was my day? HOW WAS MY DAY?! Oh, Lord...

Mortals. *nods* Evenin' you 'orrible lot. What's new? In fact, don't answer that- I have important things to ramble on about. Although, if it pleases you to let me know, I will gladly hear what you have to say.
For now, however, I wish to bruise you somewhat mentally, with the subject of school.
Ah yes, some of you may be thinking, I remember those days. Maybe you were were the one chatting up that girl who would never like you? The try-hard? The nerd? The chav? The jock? The goth? Or the class fool? And some of you, know only too well what school's like these days. I know I do.
Today I woke up with that familiar feeling of depression, self-loathing, and bitter hatred that comes with every Monday morning at exactly twentythree minutes past six. I pulled on my uniform, and nearly stabbed myself in the eye with my 'prefect' badge. What a laugh.
Upon arriving at Hell, for what would be a long stay- close to eternity- I was greeted by my History teacher who, I might add, is quite possibly insane. I 'peer mentored' a lickle firstie, and set about my degrading timetable.
It whilst I was having a slight daydream during my latin language lesson (which I was taking instead of my lunch hour, because I'm a fool) that I realised, inbetween the general translation, conjugation, and noun endings, that the girl I was sitting right next to is a psychopath. I love her to pieces, she's one of my closest friends. BUT THE GIRL'S CRACKED.
Anyhow, my afternoon lessons made me no less suicidal than my morning ones and trudged back onto the school bus, to push my way through crowds of over excitable first years to slump in my seat at the back, and reflect on the relative Everest of homework I've got.
So, next time my parents ask how school was today, I'll tell them to check my blog.
A nugget of wisdom: I'll give you one when there's a 'w' in the name of the month.

http://www.arkancide.com/psychopathy.htm Just incase you reckon you're a psychopath. Who says I'm not a nice person?
-Daphne

The Forties. And things I love.

I swear I was born seventy five years too late. If I had been born in the twenties I'd be a "young lady" of the forties. I adore Vera Lynn. Not only is she extremely talented, but also she's beautiful! Jeez, what I would give to look that good in black and white film...be chuffed to buggery, me.
Is it strange that my wardrobe is two thirds vintage gear? Meh. I don't care. I wish people everywhere had that air of gracefulness, there are few people with that charming chivalry these days, and it's something we should all value in people.
RANT OVER.
I have something beautiful to share with you. It's a nugget of wisdom: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vWiuTfcn0yw&noredirect=1
Watch this. It's beautiful.

-Daphne

THE AMERICANS.

Good morning. Sort of. I mean, it's currently 6 minutes gone midnight.
There's quite a lot of American influence all over the world. Well, okay, A LOT of American influence. Now, I have nothing against the Americans at all. Nay, the world would be boring without them, who else could make themselves sound a bit "special" by pronouncing aluminium like "aloominum" instead of "aluhminyum" and get away with it? Not the English. Who else could say 'pants' instead of trousers, or 'pacifier' instead of dummy, or even 'sidewalk' instead of pavement, and get away with it? Not the English.
The simple reason being: in England if you said those words in an English accent, you'd be given a slightly confused almost horrified glare.
Many can't stand Yankeetown residents. I, however, have come to find most of their accents highly amusing and somewhat endearing. It doesn't help that I have close friends in the north of the country who find the phrase 'Bloody hell' just as hilarious as I find them- just them. In general.
What's with all the patriotism? I love my country, of course. Queen and country and all that. But, honestly, I'd never realised just how proud a nation the Americans are...for the most part.
I have but one tiny criticism. Harry Potter. That's our thing. Don't try turning it around, with all this fan-fiction or whatever. DUMBLES WOULD NEVER HAVE ALLOWED IT.
So, if you're American, let me know. I find you all as a whole, extremely amusing. Just don't call yourselves wizards, or swear like we do.
A nugget of wisdom: the Romans only had ten months. Decem is latin for ten. December.
-Daphne

When is it too soon to...?

Oh. You startled me. *awkward shuffle*
I have a question, please feel free to comment your thoughts below. Anyhow, I was just wondering, when is it too soon to carry on blogging? Is this a continual thing? Should it be updated only every once in a while, like a 'Facebook' 'status' playing it cool? Oh, the tension.
YOU THERE. Fancy filling in the blanks? I thought so.
When is it too soon to....? Answer: ....
Ta vair much, Earthling.
-Daphne

Blogging. What a silly word.

Evenin' all. I'm new to all this fandangle technology, but as far as I can see, wasting time (that I should be using for homework and the like) spewing out my every thought and nonsensical whim to you, the (hopefully) avid blog-stalker, is a fantastic idea. It is a fantastic idea for many a reason. Please, allow me to list them...
1. You, my friends, will now have the deep joy of suffering my ridiculous tittle-tattle, until I - in my state of complete blogging ignorance- realise how much time I've wasted.
2. I can type away and nobody will interrupt me with arrogant little smiley faces (that I'd quite like to disfigure, if I could) like they do on certain unmentionable social networking sites.
3. Nobody else reads this drivvle.
How rude, I seem to have neglected an introduction. Lend me your ears, my friends, for the purpose of this 'ere blogging malarkey, my name is Daphne. I get called Lieutenant George, after the character from 'Blackadder'. You'll see why in posts to come. BUT, I am a girl. Female. Woman. All that jazz. I adore languages, culture, art, proper music (the Beatles, the Kinks, Vera Lynn) and generally taking the mick out of people who get on me nerves...
Excellent. It's pleasure to meet you.
Now the formalities have been dealt with, let us move onto something more pressing. 'Blogging'. What an absurd name. I love it. Say it like Rowan Atkinson- that never get's old.
And my nugget of wisdom for today: The best things in life are blue.