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Pop quiz, hotshot…

Pop quiz, hotshot…

Well, it’s not really a pop quiz, more five questions that bloggers ask bloggers. Oh yes, it’s such an inclusive world in the blogosphere 😉

Anyway, I spotted the latest manifestation of the game from All back to mine…, who (as well as asking me to offer up five questions to anyone who asks), kindly asked me the following five brutally personal questions…

Wales. Is it really the new Manchester?

Not that I’ve ever particularly spent much time in Manchester (and certainly I’ve never been drunk there), but erm… no.

For starters, Manchester is a city. Wales is a region/state/call it what you will. 😉

Manchester has a place of great cultural significance (at least in terms of pop music) that has generated at least one major film, sepia-toned memories for people who grew up in the 80s/90s, and infamy through severe drug use. Cardiff has none of this.

Cardiff – at least to me – is the cultural centre for a very deprived area (ie south East Wales). When the BBC decided to do a series of documentaries on late-night binge-drinking, where did they turn to? Cardiff. I’m sure Manchester has more than its fair share of drinking morons and idiots, but they’re probably classier 😉

Manchester has a fabulous Chinatown, with delicious Chinese bakeries selling all kinds of great food. Cardiff has one street.

Manchester has two major train stations and a tram line. We have one major station, and no cool transport thingummies.

The BBC’s considering relocating 10% of its staff to Manchester. Not Cardiff. That says it all!

Why do you find it difficult to go to bars by yourself? Is it because you think that’s the kind of thing an
alcoholic does… or because you think it makes you look friendless? Or something else?

Yup. Pubs and bars are meant for you to go drinking with your friends, in between social outings, or to scout out potential new friends.

Why would you go to the bar by yourself? To drink? You can drink at home, and save yourself a lot of money. Plus it’s easier to get to the toilet. And you won’t look like a friendless soul, an alcohol or a character from the Pet Shop Boys’ To Speak is A Sin. Aside from the location in a gay bar, obviously…

You’re offered a £1million book deal on the strength of your blog. There’s only one condition – they want a
ghost writer to actually write it. Your name will still be on it, the cash will be all yours… and only you will know
that you didn’t compose a word of it and you’re actually a bit of a fraud. What do you do?

Take the money. All a ghost writer would do would take my words and the events from my blog, and massage it so it works in a different arena. I don’t see a problem with that at all.

What do you fear the most?

Blindness, loneliness and stupidity. And Dubya being elected again.

What’s the most stupid/hilarious/downright brilliant thing you’ve done in your life?

The most stupid? Hrm… too many to choose from, but aside from every time I ask a woman out on a date, one of the stupider moments has to be …

H and I are in Edinburgh for a weekend of drinking and excess. so we consume lots of beers, and retire to the hotel room, where we smoke an out-of-date cigarette. Which doesn’t go down well with me.

I run to the toilet. Sit down on it, and also manage to lean over into the sink and hurl. A lot. I can even see the undigested mushrooms from this morning lying there. While I’m sitting on the toilet, and leaning over into the sink, my nose decides to join in on the fun and start bleeding. So I’m literally expelling waste products from three orifices at once.

After my body’s done, it collapses and I fall asleep briefly on the toilet. I clean up as best I can, and go back to the bedroom. And then just when I’m about to announce my return to normality, my face freezes as I realise my body hasn’t finished expelling yet, and with the immortal phrase “I’ve just crapped myself again” (or words to that effect), run to the toilet for more of the same.

of course the next morning, we had to fly back to Cardiff, then I had to go on a 4-hour road trip across the windy bendy roads of mid-Wales up to Portmeirion, with my fellow passengers smoking away nine to the dozen. Bluergh.

So, to play the 5 questions game:

1. Leave a comment (with email address) saying you want to be interviewed.
2. I’ll come back with five amazingly incisive deep and personal questions. Or surreal ones. But I won’t ask you what your favourite cheese is.
3. You update your blog with my questions and your (searingly honest) answers.
4. Include this explanation.
5. Ask other people five questions when they want to be interviewed.

Voila!

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