Mel Gibson's a moron

I started off writing this about the tame nature of my new housemates in my new student halls resisdence, but they're so nice I won't hear a bad word said about them. Three Irish, two girls and a boy, is about all the bad-mouthing I'll allow myself. It's a shame cos I'd written some pretty scathing remarks about the pitfalls of being too nice, but I can't do it to them - they're literally too nice! Sorry all you hate fans who tune in to read my Meldew-esque rants about everyone and everything. Maybe I'm mellowing while I'm out here. Don't count on it.

So back to the halls themselves - they're pretty good actually. My room is remarkably similar to my room back in Manchester's Student Village, except all the bills are taken care of and as a plus I don't have to live with anyone from the north of England. As Pete will testify to, it's a hard slog explaining the ins and outs of basic electricity to them, but once Rob had mastered this and took his new-found knowledge home with him was immediately made the mayor of Preston. Only joking, Rob - although I expect you're not reading this anyway, you bastard. Anyway, the halls are surprisingly quiet when I want to go to sleep - unlike Manchester - but the people here, quite the opposite to the locals I've met outside these walls, are fairly surley and uninterested in your business. That's fine though, cos I hate them all and hope they die soon. I really, really do. There you go, hate fans.

So my first job placement is now finished and was, as expected, not rocket science. For the first couple of days I was packing folders. Literally packing folders with paper and magazines. Not the best fun I've ever had, but bearable and the time passed mercifully quickly. After the first couple of days packing, we took our beautiful and much coverted folders to a 'symposium' - or conference to give it its less wanky title - where I, along with my new collegue and chum, had to register in a bunch of school governors at their annual back-patting meeting. This was surprisingly good fun as I got to have some good banter with some old establishment types and, more importantly, got lots of free grub at the hotel where it was being held. Two things during this time vexed me, however. Why is it that all teachers, or even, as it turned out, people associated with teachers, have stinking breath? During the registration period where we had a whole room full of them it was as if someone had let off a dirty bomb and I found myself gulping in air from behind the table at every opportune moment. Tic tac, sir? Also, after some banter about the English, a girl I was working with brought up Braveheart, adding that she thought Mel Gibson was 'cute'. Ergh, I hate that word. When I suggested that, far from being cute, Gibson was actually - particularly based on his recent anti-semetic outbursts - a moron, she strongly disagreed stating that he simply 'had an opinion'. So did Hitler, I said. From there our friendship soured - more's the pity. It only goes to prove that I'm totally stumped when it comes to working out What Women Want. Turns out it's mindless racism. Who'd have thought?

Anyway, more of this drivel at a later date. To the both of you who are actually reading it, I salute you.