Well, I haven’t done a meme for a while, so I thought I’d give it a go. Eroswings (from whose blog, Eros Den, I’ve stolen this idea) answers this much better than me, so be sure to go and check it out. The basic idea of this meme is that there is a sequence of 41 beginnings of sentences, which you then have to complete in any way you want. If you fancy having a crack at it, you should feel free. (Oh, and the bits of the sentences in red come with the meme, while the bits in black are my completions – but I would guess you could have worked that out for yourselves.)
Ok, let’s go.
My mother once shared a waiting room with Stephen Hawking. They smiled and said hello because they were the only two people in the room in wheelchairs.
Never in my life have I seen the point of multiplication tables. Why not just do the sum, as and when the need arises? It’s so much less pointless than rote learning.
When I was five I simultaneously admired and resented my older sister, who could do everything better than me. (Actually, she still can…)
High school was/ is an institution I know only via films and TV shows. I feel I can confidently, say, therefore that the average male student is approximately 28 years old, but carries a skateboard and wears a backwards baseball cap in a desperate attempt to pass for 17.
I will never forget the things I wish I could.
I once met Aled Jones. He mistook me for a girl, and while he did have a point (I was a very effeminate-looking teenager), I still thought it was a bit rich, given that I was younger than he was and, unlike him, my voice had broken.
There’s this person I know who you wouldn’t be interested in.
Once, at a bar, Scott Capurro spilled my pint. It wasn’t deliberate, and he was charming and lovely in his apologies.
By noon I’m usually dispirited and dejected. But, hey, that doesn’t mark it out from any other hour of the day.
Last night I dreamt that somebody loved me, but then I remembered that was just a Smiths song.
If only I had managed to think of a better way to complete this sentence.
Next time I go to church/ temple it will be for a wedding or a funeral only, and even then it’ll be under protest.
Terri Schiavo is unknown to me. Initially I thought she might be that woman in Desperate Housewives, but I think that’s Terri Hatcher.
I like long walks in the rain and helping people. Oh, no, wait, this isn’t my application form for Mr World…
When I turn my head left, I see a wall.
When I turn my head right, I see a room.
You know I’m lying when I say that I really enjoyed your party. Not because it was your party, just because it was a party.
In junior school all the teachers thought I was a write-off who would never amount to anything. Still, I showed them. Look at me now…with my…er…great job…and…er…successful life… Ok, so they had a point. But I am still way cleverer than they thought I was (he said, defensively).
If I was a character written by Shakespeare I would be implausibly eloquent at moments of crisis.
By this time next year I will still just about be able to claim that I’m in my mid 30s.
A better name for me would be Chatsworth Piddlington III.
I have a hard time understanding mathematics, but I still give it my best shot.
If I ever go back to school I will be told by the police that, under section 136 of the Mental Health Act, 1983, I am being taken, for my own protection and the protection of others, to a place of safety. And also to put the axe down, please.
You know I like you if I humorously insult you. Seriously, the only people with whom I’m unfailingly polite are people I despise. (I make a slight exception for online friendships, since it can be so hard to indicate that the insult is intended humorously.)
If I won an award the first person I’d thank would be the person presenting it, or maybe the people who stood aside so I could get to the stage. Think about it, you’re bound to have said thank you at least once before you get to the microphone to make the speech.
I hope that the new Luddites don’t win. They come from all angles, but they have the same goal, which is to say that the only way to preserve humanity, or the planet, or civilisation is to deliberately end technological progress. No, no, no, no. The way to do those things is to develop better technology. (No, this doesn’t make me a climate change sceptic – there are technologies for doing everything that don’t produce CO2, let’s get on and use them.)
Take my advice – no, please, take it. It’s never been any use to me.
My ideal breakfast is served to me in bed by a naked Russell Tovey. To be honest, I’m not really bothered what the food is.
A song I love but do not have is a problem I haven’t had to face since I discovered that there was this thing called ‘the internet’. Although downloading a song via a 56.6K modem was agonising… (I never tried on a 28.8K – if I had, I assume the download would still be running.)
If you visit my hometown, I suggest you don’t go on the open-top bus tour. Seriously, it’s a waste of money, just like it is everywhere.
Tulips, character flaws, microchips and track stars: if this seems like a list of incongruous items it would be hard to make part of a sentence, then that’s because it is.
Why won’t anyone see that I’m always right about everything and make me the supreme ruler of the universe?
If you spend the night at my house [Engage sleazy 70s porn star mode] you’ll be walking sideways for a week, baby. [Disengage sleazy 70s porn star mode]
I’d stop my wedding on the grounds that it’s an outmoded social paradigm. Although if anyone ever actually asked me to marry him I would, of course, be thrilled…
The world could do without cheese.
I’d rather lick the belly of a roach than lick the belly of a roach that’s just been crawling over some cheese.
My favourite thing is hard to think of. I don’t really get attached to things, more people and places.
Paperclips are more useful than 98.4% of politicians.
And by the way, that percentage, like 97.332% of all statistical claims, is invented.
The last time I was (really) drunk nothing particularly interesting happened. Some people are happy drunks, some people are aggressive drunks, some people are disinhibited drunks – I’m just like me sober, only more so.
My grandmother always told me not to tell my mum when she’d been racist about the French in front of me. She told me, for example, that French people never do washing up, they just suck their cutlery clean and then put it back in the drawer, but that on second thoughts I shouldn’t tell Mum that she’d said that. She died while I was still quite young, which is a shame, partly because I’d have loved to have the opportunity to ask her why, given that she’d lived through two wars with Germany, it was the French she hated. I’m not saying I’d have found anti-German prejudice any better than anti-French prejudice, but I could at least have understood what caused it.