The title does rather suggest that Metablog will vanish at the end of series 2, and you’ll only make it to seven by including the ship – but that’s a risk we’ll all have to take. Let’s just try and be a little Zen about it.
It seems a while since I last formally played fast and loose with the fourth wall, though generally I show it about as much respect as your average (metaphoric) wrecking ball. (Well, I presume it takes one metaphor to demolish another – or would it work better to use synecdoche?) So, it seemed about time to address my public once more.
Page views have almost reached 5000 and followers have risen to 16, more than half of whom I don’t think I know in the real world. This provides me with a strange combination of pleasure and puzzlement. Slightly worryingly, several folk who have liked or followed this farrago of poorly written prosody claim some sort of qualification in English and skills in grammar and editing. As this blog demonstrates, I have rather limited abilities in either sphere – and such talent as I have has tended to be reserved for my adventures in essay writing. OK, you’ve twisted my arm: my latest opus on dissent in the string quartets of Dmitri Shostakovich garnered 95/100. I feel not unlike a contestant who has just turned over a King on Play Your Cards Right, in that I can hear the whole audience shouting “lower” when they consider my next play. This whole situation may not be helped by the fact that I am planning to skive off the second half of this weekend’s Day School to go see (and with a bit of luck, hear) some choral music entirely unrelated to West Africa: it’s going to be the Dalai Lama all over again.
I have also received criticism for the number of incidents that seem to start with me either walking or cycling and, even with help from Roget, there are only so many synonyms out there. Sadly, the hoverboard still lies in the future (only three years to wait though, or my lawyers will be in touch with Bob Zemeckis) and my one, brief attempt to ride a skateboard did not go all that well – though nothing other than my pride was hurt. In a further blow to my ambitions, my helicopter license has yet to come through and, in any case, they are much harder to park than you might think. Nonetheless, I shall try to experience incidents in new ways in future – perhaps I could try hopping or skipping? Or maybe I could try a post in Latin, though I suspect the language of the Romans lacks the verb “to cycle”? (And the fact that I have only studied Latin for part of one year, and that year was 1979, might also be an obstacle to this plan).
Late yesterday evening, I made a dodgy Uxbridge English Dictionary (forever after to be referred to as UED) style joke. Talking of the UED, I’m quite tempted to hire an office in Quoditch (no sign of a bludger or a snitch of any colour) and write my own word list, which I will call the QED. Last night’s tweeted ‘joke’ involved the West Sussex town of Horsham – an innocent enough subject you might imagine, but within minutes I gained a new follower: Rooney & Co. Given the way Euro 2012 is all over the television like a cheap suit, my first thought was that I had acquired some sort of football-obsessed stalker (which if not irony, might at least by steely) but as it transpires I’m being followed by a firm of Estate Agents. Either the guilt of belonging to their much maligned profession is leading the realtors of Horsham to remain in the office desperately seeking affirmation by trawling Twitter for any mention of their town – or I’m wasting what passes for my wit on a computer. If I’m perfectly honest with myself, failure to laugh at Condensity would probably not count towards failure of the Turing test. However, this incident did lead me to wonder if I can acquire a larger following by using vocabulary that would appeal to a computer, and so to this end I am going to reproduce my DCL joke here. For those too young to remember DCL (Digital Control Language) it was used on the series of VAX mini-computers in the mid ’90s- in the days before they moved into carpet cleaning. Anyway, here goes – human readers prepare yourself for disappointment:
DCL is the only language where LO means goodbye¹.
Look, I never said it was good joke – but any computers out there will be helpless with mirth. I think I may have invented a whole new approach to attacking IT systems: the virus is so 2011, the future of hacking is humour for computers.
Fear not! I shall not desert you my human readership (I wonder if I was wrong to use the word “not” in that imperative?), the flow of mammal-friendly inanity will continue unabated.
¹(LO was the short-form for logoff).