maryportfuncity

He died 21 minutes earlier in his own thread. I didn't realise he had his own thread oh well Chill He's died in many places at once, the way he'd have wanted his death to be. Or summat.

Re Man Utd what do the collected footy brains on this thread think will happen next weekend? Will a contingent of the City support be so tasteless as to deliberately wreck the one minute silence to the dead heroes of 1958? If so, will the reprisals extend to full-on violence afterwards? Bear in mind that City fans have been chanting; 'we're all going to a diamond jubilee' lately. Personally, I think enough of them will overstep the mark to the point they'll be heard and newsworthy. I reckon the one minute's applause was a much better idea.

I am giving up avoidance of this thread!

Happy Birthday DDT!!

Afternoon coffee has been consumed, heads have been scratched and after much deliberation the office reckons Milvena Dean might be a good bet for the Titanic death curse.

This list is a worthy addition to our own research, clicking the links and reading for an hour would probably be much more enlightning than watching the lighweight tosh currently trading as Horizon on BBC 2. The deadpooler(s) of Maryport salute this fine thread.

Re this Beatles death curse, have we established that such a thing exists. Mebbe if I start a thread called Titanic curse, who will it strike next?

And a late result just in - DeathList 10-8 TFF. You're not singin' anymore.........etc etc.

Had her tipped last year on this very site, instant BBC obit eh? Respect, damn shame I didn't have her down on any deadpools.

Stella Marsden, big in animal research and rescue. No bullshit..........this is tragic.

Fair point but as one admiring of their work to - just about - Tattoo You, I'd argue they've spent the last decade as the best tribute band in the business and - in the process - pissed all over their own legend.

Nowt, unless they're famous enough to warrant press coverage and some of us are smart enough to pick them in a deadpool ahead of time. Obviously, as bishop of Carlisle I would qualify for an obit, feeling pretty chipper of late though. Might even put in for Ian Cundy's job soon.

When can we look away?

Nah, on a computer, though the speed and crudity of the 'model' is largely down to the fact we took an existing programme and tweaked it rather than starting from scratch. 9.36 billion, give or take. Too many digits for a beer mat.

Okay, based on a crude model that took 90 minutes from start to finish to devise and run we reckon, the dead Russian is somewhere beyond 9 billion miles but not within touching distance of 10. The guy who knows most about planets did give us a snorting; 'does this really matter,' reply when we asked for his help so our grasp of the exact line up of planets and - therefore - the gravitational slingshot available to an accidental space tourist in the early sixties is a little sketchy. He could also have gone the other way which means he have got to the sun before NASA put a man on the Moon.

I'd like to call all astrophysicists as well, but in case they're not listening, we might run a crude mathematical model on this problem at work tomorrow. It's not exactly rocket science - heh heh - because in the unlikely event that an escaping spacecraft were the source of that SOS message the exact direction of escape would be a major factor in determining where it is now but, I'll got one of the more anal types in the office to compute the planets at the time and try and get a figure to the nearest billion miles or so. It struck me as odd that a spacecraft back then would have an SOS beacon, I mean it isn't like they'd send a military helicopter up there to rescue it. Then again, mebbe the beacon was intended for touchdown emergencies. Or mebbe the whole thing is tosh.

On a drip, oddly, this is a good sign. If she's in the serious vomiting phase she's fighting her addiction, and it's fighting back.

Really interesting article in the latest Fortean Times about two Italian brothers who were able to listen in to communications between Earth and space in the early 60s. They - apparently - recorded sounds from some fatal incidents the Russians have never admitted to including at least two un-named comonauts (one of them female), in the early stages of burning up on re-entry and an SOS call from space that didn't alter position but became fainter. The latter is grim but highly interesting, suggesting a spacecraft off course and veering into deep space, if this is true the first human to leave the solar system has already managed the journey, not that the poor Russian involved knows much about it. The Lost Cosmonauts.

Liz Dawn talks about lung disease with Sir Trevor McDonald. Blurb describes the show as 'moving.' Guess it would have been bad to taste to add the words 'recommended form-studying for deadpoolers.'

Lately saw the movie 'The Flying Scotsman' about Graham Obree, sometime world record holder and a bi-polar case who once hung himself with some well-rotted rope in a Scots forest only to come crashing down none too much worse. He's now - apparently - preparing a bid on the world veterans one hour record, aged 42. Excitable and non-too-stable boy, you never know....

Her dad takes over the running of her affairs. All this help and support, I mean, she might even see 30.

Taxidermia Gross, twisted and - consistently - inspired. Hungarian with subtitles and not for the squeamish, but unforgettable. Myself and the Voice of Young Maryport enjoyed the entertainment whilst his mother maintained a safe distance surfing for hotels with organic food for a half-term break.

No more fun for Maryport man, for a wee while. I believe I am completely accurate in labelling this saddo a bit of a tosser.

I think it's understood that his death WILL see further publication of the stuff he's been writing consistently since he last published. More to the point there'll be a mad scramble to get that Catcher movie underway when he finally goes.

There's a story doing the rounds on football message boards about disgruntled Liverpool supporters joining together in a plot to buy out the hated American owners. Okay, there's loads of Liverpool fans miles from the city but, they number a fair tonnage of Scousers amongst the support so why don't they just - you know - steal it! I'll see meself out.