Ratchet & Clank: Tools of Destruction [PS3]

Play it for:
* MASSIVELY varied and fun gameplay.
* the awesome weapon system.
* wonderful comedy value.
* plenty of destruction without being violent.

Avoid it for:
* not exactly challenging.

O Icicle

Another quick little one. This is (for the main) in iambic dimeter [di-DUM di-DUM].

O Icicle,
Ephemeral,
So quick to form,
So quick to go,
Oh.

Boy Racer

Just a quick little one. This is in anapaestic pentameter for those who're interested - (each line is "diddy-DUM" x5). I've italicised a couple of words to help with metrical stress.

Boy Racer

You were going at sixty but you didn't know how to drive.
You were racing too swiftly when you didn't know how to love.
So you now know what happens when you're in too much of a rush;
The inevitable - it's a mangled, obstreporous CraSH.

Blast from the Past

All this poesy has reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was 17. It was about a teacher and pupil in class who used to fight a lot. Foolishly, I wrote it down on paper, which was snatched from me, photocopied, and distributed around various people. It shattered my innocent image and left me with a nervous tic in one of my eyes for a few weeks! Anyway, I've changed the names to protect the original identities. Not for any warped reasons. Honest.


Mrs. Sprout and Draco feel
That their lust they can conceal
By their over-angry antics in the class
But should we boys reveal
That we've heard Pomona squeal
With delight, as Malfoy takes her up the ass

Avian Conversation

Avian Conversation

Hail the mighty Golden Eagle
Lord and master of the Skies
So agile, fast, so powerful
But not so wise

Here I am, your humble servant
A seemingly compliant crow
Deferring to your greater strength
For all you know

Your weapons are your razor claws
Inspiring fear in all but fools
How wonderful to rend and tear
But I craft tools

I perceive my own reflection
My intellect is self-aware
But you, oh from a mile away
Can spot a hare!

You spot then swoop then snatch then slay
You break its bones with blooded beak
I influence and imitate
With voice to speak

A king, you perch on tree-top throne
Before you, bowed and cowed I kneel
Just waiting for your back to turn
You're mine to steal

The Missing Poem

There's a nice little Sapphic Ode I co-wrote a few months ago that isn't on here.

It actually featured in the September issue of Kinaara magazine. Kinaara is a literary magazine for South Asian youth. While this may sound very restrictive, you'd be sorely mistaken if you thought that was the case. The sheer range of views and subjects it covers is amazing and a tribute to the vision of the editors. Anyway, I recommend you check out this uber-funky mag at http://kinaaramagazine.org/

How did it end up published in there? Well I co-wrote it with an extremely talented individual - R K Dasgupta. He provided the emotional core to the poem, while I did more of the technical stuff. If you want to see for yourself how talented this guy is, then enjoy his brilliant short film Azure!

Anyway, without more ado, I quote The Missing Poem

A diamond cold and sparkling night
I’m warmly nestled in your arm
And underneath the moon’s soft light
So safe from harm.

I love the bustling energy,
This city, our canalside walk,
The bikes, the trams, to feel so free,
Our tender talk.

A screeching wakes me with a start.
The car brings black where dream had shone.
In shock I try to find my heart
But you are gone.

Can I still smell you on the air?
Can I still taste my salty man?
Can I still feel your silken hair?
I can’t, but can.

Our bodies went their separate ways.
Between our souls a thousand miles.
But pain is further; pleasure stays…
I feel your smiles.

The memories drift back at last.
Our everlasting love revives.
We danced while Time entwined our past
And future lives.

Each moment passed, the end drew near,
The time when we would have to part.
The end, though sad, required no fear:
This end’s a start.

Continental Drift

Continental Drift

All so quiet, all so calm
When avoiding risk of harm.
What a sorry waste of breath
Living life as cold as death.
You and I are so alike
Waiting round for luck to strike.
Let's go grab it by the nuts
Show the world that we've got guts
Take a chance, no ifs, no buts.
Why resist our merging fates?
Shifting like tectonic plates
On a slow and steady course,
Powerful destructive force;
Smash the earth then set it new.
One new land where once was two.
All around, Apocalypse -
Worth it though, to grab your hips,
Drag you close and kiss your lips.
Let the world go up in flame!
Life is short so give your name,
Give your power, give your trust,
Yield to unencumbered lust;
Take from me the same and more.
Caged hearts sink, but free we'll soar,
Playful playmates evermore.

Britannia Hibernalis

A quick little poem I knocked up dedicated to Britain in winter. Rough and ready. Cheap and cheerful.


Britannia Hibernalis

"Hark the herald angels sing"??
Here in Britain, no such thing.
All our yuletide angels cough,
Curse the cold, then bugger off.
It's not dull like people say -
See! Our many shades of grey.
Look around! There's nudity -
Every branch on every tree.
Like to party through the night?
Eighteen hours a day, no light.
Hate when dogcrap stains your shoes?
Winter hounds leave frozen poos.
Sit on Jolly Santa's knee!
(Watch his hands. Avoid the pee.)
Don't head off for warmer climes...
Stay for soggy, groggy times!

Emotional Manipulation

I've tried to write some slightly more serious poetry. Of course, more serious is pretty relative. And while this isn't as raucous as Making Babies, my writing does seem prone to knowing jokes, irony, and surprise twists. (In my biased opinion anyway!) So without more ado, here's my latest complete composition...


Emotional Manipulation

Manipulate? Manipulate??
I serve my heart up on a plate;
An open wound, in pain I wait.
How say you I manipulate?

Why should I not commemorate
Each burning tear I've cried of late,
Tumbling-down like my wretched fate?
How say you I manipulate?

'Twas you who left me in this state.
It's me who suffered since that date.
You dare blame me when you're the traitor??
I'll say my full, manipulator!

Event Poem: Ballad to the Leaving Lady

Hey y'all. Haven't posted in over two months now! Mind you, in that time had the craziness of Ramadan going on. And other crazinesses too. So just to fill the gap, and to get me back on my blogging feet again, I thought I'd write up a poem I'd written.

Thing is, the background won't be familiar, so I'll just quickly explain the background. A girl called Uzma left work the other day after being there for 10 years. She's now pregnant from her husband, who also works there, as does one of her sisters. She was always kept busy with (far too many) requests for work. And while a ferociously loyal friend, she could seem grumpy to those who didn't know her. Anyway, apologies if you don't get the poem, and for the lack of polish - but better than me not posting anything! :P

Ballad to the Leaving Lady

She's been with us a decade now
But as wise people say
That all good things must reach their end
And thus she runs away

She's done her bit, she's served her time,
We will not ask for more.
(We will; but first we're gonna wait
Until she's out the door.)

So much responsibility,
Not just in her career:
A baby to look after now,
Another due next year!

And many, many moons henceforth
You know that we'll still miss her
Because we'll still have thingybob,
Oh what's-her-name, her sister.

With some of us she'll share her laughs,
To some she seems quite stiff.
Her smiles are legendary stuff!
No, wait. I mean a myth.

A sassy lass, a classy lass,
And certainly no floozy.
Let's give three cheers, and wish the best,
To Uzma, Uzzy, Uzi!

Professor Leyton & the Curious Village [DS]

Play it for:
* atmospheric, claustrophobic story.
* great animated cutscenes.
* sense of achievement.

Avoid it for:
* tricksiness gets you wrongly second-guessing some ambiguously worded puzzles.

Sam n Max [wii]

Play it for:
* episodes that escalate along an insane story arc.
* wickedly offbeat humour and characters.
* great game to play with a friend.

Avoid it for:
* buggy.
* occasionally frustrating puzzles.

Making Babies

OK, I really need to write mini-reviews of a couple of games I've finished recently. So this is a reminder to me to do that soon. But given the positive reception of my last playful attempt at poetry, I've written something new for all my fans. I hope both of you enjoy it!


Making Babies

I feel a throbbing, deep desire that's bursting to get out,
A fiercely blazing inner fire that makes me want to shout,
"Let's make babies!"

I've got the perfect partner now, the family planning starts,
(You trap your lover with a vow, and then you trap their parts).
So in and out and out and in - this ain't no cricket game.
It's serious and sexual fun, with one specific aim...
To make babies!

A cloud on the horizon lurks, a problem blocks the way.
Don't worry, folks, our plumbing works. But both of us are gay.
Can sperm meet sperm and interact, with bottom as a womb,
Subverting biologic fact, and thus bring life to bloom?
We need a miracle of luck, so now you see our trouble.
One gives then takes; in turns we fuck - to make our chances double
And make babies!

We try sooo haaard. Is hope too blind? Reality has won.
Reluctantly I change my mind and turn the oven on.
"Let's make cookies!"

Amsterdam Poem - Work in Progress

The summer days of Amsterdam
Are long as long can be.
The sun forgets it's meant to set
Until nine forty-three;

Perhaps it gets excited there
(Now that makes sense to me)
To watch the people eat and smoke
And play and laugh with glee,

'Cause there's so much to see and do
For any cultured man.
I'll list the main attractions now
Of laid-back Amsterdam.

For those who have a sinful bent
There's shops for sex and drugs;
A green-brown light for skunky highs
But red for naked hugs.

For those who love the Christian God
Or merely like His Word
There's bibles by the metric tonne
To please your inner nerd.

For those who want to gawp and shrink
From man-made misery
There's Holocaust memorials -
Horrific history.

So many ways to get around
By bus, by boat, by bike,
By tram, by foot, or even car...
Just pick the mode you like.

The native Dutch are friendly folk
And most are Anglophones
An extra scoop of ice-cream tops
The spittle in the cones.

Poetry Exercise 6

Right, I didn't like the prescribed subject matter. So I've been a bit subversive.
First there's anapaestic [diddy-DUM] hexameter that I had to do on "directions to my home".
Second there's dactylic [DUM-diddy] pentameter (preferably ending in a spondee) on "cows".

1.
If you start from my house then to get there is really quite easy to do.
Make your way to the end of the road, then a right, then a left, then a left,
Then ahead at the fork, then a left up the hill till you get to the top,
Then a right, up my street and you're there. What a waste of your time that all was!


2.
Sorrowful moos in the fields of unholy disorder.
Whence do they come? From the Raising of herds by the Dark One.
Who would've guessed at his scheme to revive such an army?
Nevertheless on the surface they seem to be quite cute.
Evil? Insanity? Genius? Who gives a fat fuck!
Futile philosophy can't change the fact of the Un-Dead
Cows without milk are as useful as hookers with flat tits.
Bulls without beef are as useful as cock-flavoured ice-cream.
Please call a priest who can cleanse our miasma of bone life!


I think I got a bit carried away with the last poem...

Poetry Exercise 5

OK, first there's a quatrain in trochaic tetrameter. Then one in semi-docked trochaic tetrameter.
Next there's a double quatrain(?) of iambic tetrameter.
Lastly a double quatrain(?) of alternating iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter.

1.
Samus, what fantastic stories -
Evil creatures you've been fighting.
Hail your long-remembered glories -
Even now they're down in writing!

Samus; righteous, agile clever -
You can save the universe.
Long may your name last forever -
Even now it's down in verse.


2.
How odd for my poetic themes
I seem to choose computer games
With Samus, girl who fills my dreams,
You know - the one of Metroid fame.

Can I not think of lofty stuff?
Can nothing else inspire at all?
I lost with her 'gainst Jigglypuff
The other day while playing Brawl.


3.
It's time to think of something else,
No Samus anymore.
The way she dominates my mind
Has made me such a bore.

No more her lithe and agile form
Shall in my mind take root.
Nor morph balls. Bombs. Nor weaponry.
Nor sexy power suit.

Poetry Exercise 4 (dedicated to Samus)

Right, this exercise was 16 lines of iambic pentameter. With added incentive of 5 points for trochaic and pyrrhic substitutions, 2 points for enjambments, and 2 points for 'feminine' (i.e. unstressed) endings.

As a little conceit to justify using feminine endings in every line (thus cheaply boosting my score), I wrote about a woman. Namely the intergalactic bounty hunter babe, Samus Aran, heroine of the Metroid series of games. I reckon this gets a respectable score of 123. (Again, score doesn't denote quality. Just effort to include new techniques that may or may not be appropriate). Anyway, here's my poem, dedicated to the ideal woman...

Samus the mighty, awesome, kickass lady,
Fighting the evils of a dark, corrupted
And lonely universe. Oh, how I marvel
Your strange ability to morph your slender,
Proportioned form into a ball so tiny,
Round and compact. Where do you keep your missiles?
Where do you keep your bombs? Questions encompass
Your great existence. Questions lacking answers.
Monsters abound: insectoid pirates roaming
Through space's outer reaches in a vicious
And brutal quest for total domination;
Ruled by the Mother Brain but led by Ridley;
Last but by no means least, you face the Metroids -
Eponymous, impervious and deadly...
Upgrade your super freezing shot! And also
Your screw attack! Now fly your ship so funky.

Poetry Exercise 3

OK, last exercise should've been two instead of one. The first exercise was just a scansion thing. Anyway, this exercise has been interesting. Been given five specific topics. For each topic i have to write a pair of lines in iambic pentameter without caesura or enjambment. Then I have to repeat but this time using caesura and enjambement - while keeping pretty much the same meaning. Here are my efforts...

1. Outside the window.
The blue of sky is filled with clouds of white.
The tweets of birds are drowned by noisy cars.

A fluffy sky. I hear the twitt'ring birds
in avid chat. But no, the cars now roar.


2. What I'd like to eat.
Bring watermelon, mango, juicy fruits!
To quench my thirst and cool my too hot head.

No hunger here. I want the liquid cool
Of juicy fruits. My body craves the cool.


3. A recent dream.
I cannot last remember when I dreamt,
Perhaps it was a month or twelve ago.

No dreams for me. The last was maybe weeks
Or months ago. My poor encumbered mind!


4. Pesky incomplete chores.
The moving out and moving back again.
A trip abroad is also needing work.

There's so much work to do. A holiday
Abroad needs plans. But moving home comes first.


5. What I hate about my body.
I hate my ugly fingers and my toes,
I used to hate my straight and pointed nose.

If only I could change! Then twenty crap,
Crap digits would be gone. My nose would stay.

Poetry Exercise 1

Done my first poetry exercise from the book I bought. Basic iambic pentameters.

My boss is sitting opposite me now.
What is he thinking? That's what I would know.

Last night the weather hot and sultry was;
I wish a cooler temp'rature tonight.


A worm, a bird, a fox, a man, a worm.
A circle stretches round us ev'ry one.

This pencil writes; this rubber hates it all.

A fruity loaf for lunch but none for tea.

The changeling man has died. I shall not mourn
a life so filled with lies as this one was.

I work for poor and needy human beings.

My Hindu mate will love this line the most.

The Ode Less Travelled

Am quite excited by a book I bought today.

I was never really interested in poetry until doing my Latin and Greek GCSE's. I got to learn about metre, and poetic techniques in a way that was never taught in English. English poetry criticism always seemed pretty obscure - like you needed to know everything about the poem before you could appreciate it.

I found (Latin) verse composition interesting. At uni, Michael* bought a cool old second hand English verse composition book. Oxford's great for books. I was a bit envious, and have been keeping my eye out for a good English verse composition book since...

...and never came across one I wanted. Not in bookshops, nor second hand bookshops, nor amazon, nor ebay. I guess that shows the limits of search engines, because the book I've bought is entitled The Ode Less Travelled.

It's written by none other than Stephen Fry, that great British wit. And seems exactly like the book I've been searching for all these years.

I'll just quote one little passage...

But however well or badly we were taught English literature, how many of us have ever been shown how to write our own poems?

"Don't worry, it doesn't have to rhyme. Don't bother with metre and verses. Just express yourself. Pour out your feelings."

Suppose you had never played the piano in your life.

"Don't worry, just lift the lid and express yourself. Pour out your feelings."

We have all heard children do just that and we have all wanted to treat them with great violence as a result.

Prince of Persia - Fallen King [DS]

Play it for:
* really innovative controls!
* very forgiving.

Avoid it for:
* over too soon.

Mishearing The Pussycat Dolls

Successful in the charts around the world right now is surely one of the strangest musical collaborations ever. The Pussycat Dolls and A. R. Rahman. On the one hand you have a bunch of former erotic dancers, whose success is more due to their sleazy looks and tacky songs than their ability to barely* hold a tune. On the other, you have a plain-looking spiritual man, whose great success is due to phenomenal musicality.

I must confess, I cannot bring myself to listen too closely to those sipid sirens. Thus in their recent song "When I Grow Up", I thought for ages that they sang "I want to have boobies"! (It's apparently "I want to have groupies").

Perhaps I'm right though. And a great deception is being played on the listening public. I raise this possibility because yet again my ears are at dispute with the 'official' lyrics. I refer to the song supposedly called "Jai Ho!"

It's clear to me, that rather than being a song with the message "May you be victorious" or "You are my destiny", it is about something shockingly mundane. A. R. Rahman is in fact asking one of the Pussycat whores to fetch him a cup of tea.

So next time you hear this song, the highlight of which is actually just the two words sung repeatedly by Rahman, join in with him and sing aloud "Chai Ho!"



* Split infinitive is deliberate and correct in this instance. 'Barely' as in 'just about' rather than 'without clothing'. Though now I think about it...

Lunacy

"There may be trouble ahead
But while there's moonlight and music
And love and romance
Let's face the music and dance"

- Irving Berlin

Moonlight. Isn't it cool? What does it mean to you? To me, it's one of the most perfect topics for tangential ramblings.

Moonlight. I've just been watching Moonlighting again. What a perfect television programme. Mysterious as the moon itself. Or perhaps not... the ridiculous plots have twists that become predictable. But that doesn't matter. Because it's about the enigmatic chemistry between Cybil Shepherd and Bruce Willis - think Beatrice and Benedick put in the 1980's. It's about the crazy things that happen; I've had the joy of watching a car chase in a hearse and an episode with a leprechaun. It's about unashamedly intelligent dialogue, with all sorts of linguistic tricks knowingly and ostentatiously deployed.

Moonlight. There's an item in World of Warcraft "Rituals of the New Moon" - that can turn you into a wolf. Cue pointless debate on the forums. "It's about werewolves." "No it's not. Werewolves are at the full moon." "Ah, but Twilight's werewolf-related sequel is New Moon." I've always been more inclined to werewolves than vampires. Vampires are evil. Werewolves are just bestial. Also, from a spiritualistic point of view, vampires are evil energy draining entities, werewolves are shamanistic soul shapeshifters.

Moonlight. The reflection of the sun's light. By a curious quirk of fate, the moon rotates upon it's axis in such a way that only one side is ever facing the earth. There is the unseen dark side of the moon.

Moonlight. The sight of which indicates the start of an Islamic month. The means by which Ramadan should be started and ended if it weren't for petty religious politics.

Moonlight. The three phases of the moon. Athena, Demeter, Hera. Three different types of female energy conveyed by the moon's light.

Moonlight. One of my friends has been mooning lately. To him this means a form of pleasant daydreaming. In Britain, mooning is a base act of showing off your bare behind in public - especially when pressing it against a vehicle's window.

Moonlight. Romantic. Mysterious. Magical.

Crossword: Closed Circuit Television

Highlight of Saturday's crossword was nan asking how to spell CCTV.

Mario, Sonic & Me

Warning: this will be a rambling post.

The other day I bought Super Mario 64 for my DS. This extra bit of warmth has hatched a once seemingly infertile egg (laid by a Yoshi). I am now a Mario fan.

Just two short years ago it all seemed so unlikely. I mean, when I was a kid, I didn't have any Nintendo or Sega consoles like many other kids had. (I progressed ZX Spectrum -> Commodore 64 -> Amiga 1200). Yet I had a fairly clear idea on what I thought of Mario vs Sonic. Mario's an ugly plumber with a dodgy Italian accent. He seemed as unappetising and American as day-old takeaway pizza. Sonic was a blue hedgehog - a blue hedgehog! And he could run at craaazy speeds... I could see that on my friends' Game Gears.

In contrast, my only prior experience of Mario was Super Mario 64 on a uni friend's N64. I liked watching my friends play it, but I was a 2D guy in a 3D world. I had no real control over the portly plumber. I was a motivational speaker addressing an audience of narcoleptics.

Oh how times change! I did succumb to the temptation to play Sonic, getting Sonic Rush for my DS. It was highly rated and even had a choice of characters you could use. It should have been some classic retro platforming. But it just didn't suit me at all. It went too fast; i'm a strategic planner not an intuitive reactor. Plus what type of game gives non-linear environments to explore yet has speed of completion as its raison d'etre? There's no real incentive to explore, yet I still felt I was missing out. I'd also finish a level so quickly I'd have no idea how it all had happened. I was so disappointed I got rid of the game. And I have no desire to get any new 3D Sonic games, as they're meant to be mediocre.

But Mario, dear Mario. As in real life, substance and heart triumph over glamour and gimmickry.

I was reintroduced to him a couple of year's ago through a friend's Super Mario Galaxy on the Wii. I only played for a few hours, but it was a fantastic experience. I have a copy at my mum's. I also have Super Mario Sunshine which I've been playing on my new Gamecube. Super Mario World (2D) on my GBA. And now Super Mario 64 on my DS - the game that I couldn't play on the N64!

It's much better on the DS. I can actually use one (and only one) of the 3 different control methods. Plus I get to be Yoshi in this version too. Double Yay.

So why do I like the Mario games so much? I guess the same reasons as everyone else; fantastic physics and level design. They're interesting, challenging and fair.

But the 3D Mario games are what have me cheering in my little head. You play a level till you complete a certain scenario which gets you a star. You then replay that level with a different scenario to get another star. When you have enough stars, you get access to new levels. You can then go to those new levels to get more stars, or you can try to milk each last star possible out of your older levels before moving on. If a particular scenario is just too hard, you can go elsewhere to get the stars you need to progress further. Phew.

That's all very abstract and needlessly confusing. So here's a concrete example from Super Mario Sunshine. After getting a certain amount of Shine stars, I was able to access a new beach area. My first task involved watering a certain flower, which made a magical sandcastle (naturally), which I then entered, as you do. The bad dude robbed my water pump off me, so I had to do normal jumps across falling bricks and climb a big sandcastle to reach the star. So far, so mundane? Well, when you retrieve a star, you're transported back to the main area, and on returning to the beach level, there was now a different task to get a star. The island has a special egg which the natives keep warm with sunlight from huge mirrors (how else?). Naughty bugs had got on the mirrors so they were pointing the wrong way, and a caterpillar was now wrapped round the egg! So I do fatty-bum jumps on the high sides of the mirrors to catapult the nasty bugs off. And when everything's back in place, it's too hot for the caterpillar who scarpers, and I get my star... Yet now when I return to the beach, the angry caterpillar is charging around. Yikes! I have to water plants to make sandcastles that'll trip that livid larva so i can fatty-bum jump on its segments till it's defeated - then I get another star!

Mario remains the same strength throughout the game. This is actually a positive feature. It means you'll never have huge amounts of life or weapon upgrades. So you can't get through a boss fight with reckless bravado - but similarly it means you're not up against enemies that may have ridiculous amounts of health, do crazy damage, or are just plain unavoidable.

Oh and one last reason why the star collecting system is so great. You can play for half an hour, collect a star or two and think, "Good job, you. You've done well today." Mini-endorphin rush. And if I keep doing that, then sooner or later these games will join the hallowed few that I've actually played to completion.

Ramble over.

Survived the Day

I'm not normally going to talk about personal things; that's not my style. But today was a big day I guess... or rather, it wasn't.

You see, at the start of this year, I was engaged. And Saturday 10th April was the date set for the wedding. Things all ended a bit craply for reasons I won't go into here. It was really quite an upsetting disaster, in that it created a lot of pain and disharmony. Moreover, it pretty much meant the end of my hopes of starting a family - I'm now 30 and there's no realistic chance of me meeting a suitable new girl in my current life.

In fact, my mum asked me on Friday whether she could try wife-hunting for me. I told her 'no' and that her timing was frankly extremely tactless. It's been a pretty awkward week anyway, with a few people who didn't know about the breakup asking me when I was getting married. And one friend who well-meaningly (but counter-productively) brought up the fact that I would have been getting wed this weekend.

But the day's gone by pretty smoothly. I've spent £20 at Cadbury World - mostly on stuff for my mum for Easter Sunday. I've endured my nan's crossword which we completed. Plus had a fantastic family meal with all my siblings, my mum, nan, great aunt and sis's boyfriend to celebrate (belatedly) my turning 30. Nando's with halal chicken. Yay!

And there's more! I enjoyed 4-player Super Monkey Ball and F-Zero. Watched The Incredibles for the first time (so much better than the dreadful trailer I saw years ago). And in all the moments in between these distractions, my mind has been filled with the blazing crimson of the future.

This last has been the most uplifting for my spirits. Freed from the goals of convention, I must now choose my own legacy for this life. As a Prometheus, I could steal the crimson flame from high Olympus and share its great boons with an ignorant mankind...

Tube Ads' Crappy Grammar

Ok, I was in London last Tuesday and was bemused at seeing several ads on the tube with really poor grammar.

One was for an IVF clinic that had a photo of a bonny wee bairn talking about its "parent's genes" - although it did in fact have two parents rather than one.

Then there was an advert - Gilette, I think - that asked, "Who would of thought..?" Well, who would have thought such a sophisticated brand could make such a tacky mistake?

Lastly, there was another error - by Nivea, I think - which I can sadly no longer recall. Yet by mentioning it you'll now have to live with the anti-climactic frustration of knowing you'll never know it. Hopefully you'll get over it in time.

First post

Ok, gonna finally try to get involved in the blogging thing after seeing the great things other people are doing with them. I'm a bit lazy by nature, but this should give me a chance to get my fairly uncommon perspectives out there. This is just really a test post and minimalistic mission statement.