London Tube Strike

As each side the other condemns
We're tired of "it's not us it's them"s
To make London go
Let's lock up Bob Crow
And chuck Boris into the Thames

3WW: MTV Attire

When aiming to join pop’s elite
Avoid gowns demure and discrete
But rather offend
Those of volatile trend
By sporting a frock formed of meat

3WW:demure, offend, volatile

Lost in Translation 2: Mildly Astray

Following from my last post, while I'm blogging about Chinese/English mistranslations, I might as well post this photo I took of a notice in the hotel where I stayed in Beijing.


Sometimes, you just don't want to know the reason...

Lost in Translation

So, my supervisor took my whole research group out for a drink in the Student's Union. Talking to him in a noisy setting can be an ordeal, as he's Chinese and his accent is quite strong. Cue a very stilted conversation, and then this happened...

Him: So what’s different now you’re living with your parents again?
Me: Well, I don’t get to do as much cooking as I used to. It’s a shame, I really enjoy it.
Him: What?!
Me: Yes, but now my mother does far more than I do.
Him: Your mother? Well. Wow. I’m shocked. Really?
Me: Oh yes.
Him: And is it a common thing to do in England?
Me: Yes, of course, though not as much as it used to be. And I expect it is in China as well, surely? I take it you don’t do much yourself?
Him: [Splutters into beer]
Me: [Aware there's been a language issue, but not sure where it happened so struggling on] Does your wife cook instead? Does she tend to make Chinese food or more Western dishes?
Him: Cook? Cooking? Wait, you’re talking about cooking? As in, with food?
Me: Well, yes, isn’t that what we were discussing?
Him: Oh. Oh, I see. Yes, that makes more sense.
Me: So, what did you think we were talking about?
Him: Ah, well, you see, when you said cooking, I thought you said cocaine.

Sunday Scribblings: View

On a glorious day at Corfe Castle
We set out to the hills for a hike
When through all of the touristic bustle
Came a butterfly riding a bike

(In the works of mythologic masters
Think of Titian or Watts or Van Dyke
Is there such a surreal disaster
As a butterfly riding a bike?)

So we walked with all Purbeck before us
To the cliffs where the waves pound and strike
And the breakers themselves beat a chorus
Of a butterfly riding a bike

Now in Dorset pubs often they mutter
Of the legend all swear by alike
Maybe one day you too will hear flutters
Of that butterfly riding her bike

The Ballad of the Dispirited Research Student

There was a girl who lost the will
Her research work to do
Although she had the brains and skill
Her apathy just grew

Deep down she loved her project
The science in her bones
Ideas and problems to connect
Find truths about unknowns

There was a time when she would sell
Her soul to get this break
But now her dream has turned to hell
It's all a big mistake

It matters not how hard she tried
She can't debug her code
Her confidence, morale and pride
Continue to erode

She seems to achieve less each day
She's tired all the time
Her thesis stress won't go away
There's such a hill to climb

A mountain that she still must scale
It's peak still lost in mist
Her futile efforts can't prevail
No reason to persist

The funding deadline's just a joke
She's human after all
But missing it would leave her broke
Finances at a stall

And as she hates to ask for aid
Her problems just get worse
But all her troubles she'll evade
By writing foolish verse

Eluded by the Muse

A new blogger's ultimate goal
Is to write posts with talent and soul
But her hopes go astray
And she's sorry to say
That she's stuck in a limerick-shaped hole.

And her writer's block just seems to worsen
For while she sits angry and cursin'
She wastes all her time
On amphibrach rhyme
And refers to herself in third person.

Hmmm... maybe it's all my own fault.