Star Crossed

I have only seen the Richard & Judy show once; this morning, around 04:30. Now, I haven't seen Judy Finnegan on the telly for a number of years, but the woman whom I just saw looked a little... peaky. Despite her visible Delirium Tremens, and some facial baggage that she could smuggle drugs in, I was pleased to see that, unlike so many older female tv stars, Judy has not succumbed to the vanity-knife. Nor, it would appear, has she given in to the ubiquitous craze for exercise and healthy nutrition. I, for one, hope Judy continues to grow old gracefully, not wasting precious energy desperately fighting a losing war against entropy.

Basically, Notapotato seems to exist solely to give me warnings, to support the objectives of those who seek to bury your forum in mounds of steaming whoreshit, and to do a bit of deleting and move a few posts around. That, in my opinion, is not a worthwhile use of his powers and he should, therefore, be reduced to the ranks of plain membership. I know that I enjoy the support of several members of the Moderatorship in this campaign, and many members who have been dismayed by his impotence and, indeed, collaboration in the face of off-topic whoring (the "terrorism" of modern forum life).

Arrrr! Ye all know I've been waitin' for this moment since the sun came over the yardarm yesterday morn. I've got itches in me britches an' it's the fault 'o' these land-lubbers who be callin' themselves the Moderaters. I say we let these bilge-rats rot in the brig. Ye can blow me down if ye think I'm spinning ye a yarn; we'll have 'em strapped over a barrel soon enough an' given fifty lashes with the kitten! I'll be leavin' it to ye now, me hearties. Got's to drop me anchor in Mrs. Star Crossed's lagoon, soon as I've finished this flagon of grog. Arrrr!

Mr. Hopkins seems to think that some of you may have issues which require a sympathetic ear, or even a shoulder to cry on. The kittensitter is listening...

RIP Sir Patrick. A titan of broadcasting and an inspiration to many. It's a shame he never got to drink that glass of moon water. There is another star in the firmament tonight...

Have any DLers got anything they'd like to deny? I have a few things... My overly-long nose. "No, I think you'll find, upon measurement, that it's SMALLER than average." My 2nd-class degree. "No, I believe you have mistaken my first-class for a 2:1" My lack of regional accent. "No, in actual fact I have an easily-discernable, salt-of-the-earth Geordie accent." Creationists/Intelligunt Deziners. "No, I think you'll find that everyone accepts evolution as a law of the natural world." Embarrassing rants/comments I've made on the DL. "No, no, NO! I think you'll find, upon careful examination of my collective postings, that I am always erudite, polite, factually correct and of course highly, highly amusing. You bunch of sick, boring, loathesome f**ks."

Let's not mention July, shall we? August's episode of TSAN, 'Monster Star' sees Sir Patrick and the prodigal son grilling Dr Richard Parker on the nature of supermassive stars such as the charmingly-named R136a, a resident of the Tarantula nebula recently discovered by PaintShopPro users astronomers in the UK. Some of the statistics they churn out are delicious. Sir Patrick looks in fine form, keen as mustard and razor-sharp. Lawrence and his needless sidekick Abel sup lustily once more from the well of my patience, defiling my sensibilities as they gush over one of my personal favourites, the Perseid meteor shower (my favourite because it's never visible due to cloudy conditions here, so it remains intriguing and beguiling). The only good thing about this segment was the inclusion of a photo taken by one Dr Brian May, friend of the show, more famous as the guitarist in Queen, whose stunning performance in I Want It All, I'd turned off in order to watch the show. Coincidink! The cat finally solves Fermat's annoying little problem, and then has a nap. Next month, more discussion of Jupiter. More? Yes, more. Importantly, everyone lives happily ever after. For now... 998

June 2010, how time flies! 'Star Birth', the title of this month's TSAN... The many star-forming areas of our galaxy are obscured by interstellar dust but Herschel, a new space telescope, can see these areas in infrared light. Which is satisfactory. Sir Patrick Moore is joined by Professor Derek Ward-Thompson and Dr Chris North to examine the latest stunning images from Herschel. Sir Patrick's cat, Ptolemy, steals the show with a display of things Star Crossed doesn't have the vocabulary to describe, having stolen most of this synopsis from the BBC site (edited, as it transpires, by a regular contributor to this forum) prior to having watched the show, as he has to be up early in the morning to feed the chipboard monkey saboteur squad. Pete Lawrence shows what is on offer in the June sky, including clouds, sunshine and the occasional contrail, and comet C/2009 R1 McNaught, and Paul Abel searches for a comet - but will he find it? Am I bovvered? Face? Bovvered? If the US military could send a helicopter crew to gleefully strafe Sir Patrick's beloved 15" reflector whilst they were in there, it'd be worth the loss. And I'd forgive them shooting all those iraqi civilians in cold blood that wikileaked time. Chris Lintott gives a report from NASA's Goddard Space Center, where he has been training for the first manned mission to Mars, speculated SC, not having seen the Chosen One on the show for some time. Anyone seen Lintott? Call 1-800-CHOSEN1 997

Hmmm... really? In other breaking news, ursine defecation has been discovered in several forested regions, whilst the pope has been exposed as a catholic. Also, the Sun is allegedly going to rise in the east tomorrow. 994

I don't give two shits about football, which is the reason I've been in a fantasy Premier League football thing for the last 6 years, with a mixture of actual friends and their friends I've never met. Last year 2nd of 22, this year 12th of 21. Knowing almost nothing about the sport, not having allegiance to any particular team, and not really caring too much about the results has given me many hours of great enjoyment including not the occasional Saturday-morning panic "shit! did I make my free transfer this week? Is Cech still my keeper?". I'm in, Mono! Whichever is the least annoying site.! This post is sponsored by... Alcohol, Inc.

Spade man, I thought it died with your good self and your dicky ticker the day they sprung you from the joint to sing for the masses. Another classic case of postal diarrhoea from mpfc, burying S Cooley's genuinely amusing post (which, given some decent moderation, should have triggered the locking of this pointless thread) with more banal, pointless rubbish. You really are the scourge of this forum, mpfc. I'm surprised anyone bothers posting at all these days, knowing that you'll be along in an instant to drown out the programme with your perpetual static noise. What makes your ubiquitous, narcissistic dross even more annoying is that you are, in real life, allegedly fairly intelligent and not the ignorant fucking moron you play "around these parts, like". A first-class cunt of the highest order, all you do is jealously hide the finer details of this forum in the snow of your tired mind. Which is a shame; I like snow. Really? You reckon Glasto will survive this? Next you'll be revealing your insight as to the Sun's potential rise in the east tomorrow morning*. The only thing I like about you is that you are older than me in real life and I have a very, very good chance of outliving you. Especially if, as I hope, you contract a painful and aggressive form of a rare and incurable disease as soon as possible. *Although, if the Sun doesn't rise in the east tomorrow, it'll probably be a hit on the NDP for Vaagheid, who seems to have almost every base covered.

May all your dreams come true, HCW!

[Monoclinic]Invisibility or mind-reading?[/Monoclinic] Mind-reading. Power. Casebook. Lose the data on your hard-drive, or the contacts in your mobile phone?

I know how I'm going to die, but not when. I've a sure-fire method of suicide, and I'm happy with this. If I knew when I was going to die but not how, I think it would totally ruin my life; I'd never be able to stop thinking about that moment and all the possible permutations of varying causes of death. I'd put clocks all over my house and on my pc wallpaper counting down the seconds etc. and just before I was due to die I'd probably off myself anyway in an attempt to avoid a potentially more painful and prolonged death, thereby generating an ironic paradox of self-fulfilling prophecy. What's preferable? A tepid but well-made cup of tea/coffee, or a nice hot one that's been poorly made? All this proves is that I prefer answering questions to posing them. As a sociopath, I don't really have much empathy with humans, so I could be here all day posing questions which, ultimately, could be equally well posed by a computer program, for all the emotional engagement they ellicit. Good luck with the thread though, hope it runs and runs.

May 2010's episode, "Ring World" on BBC iPlayer. Sir Patrick looks in great shape this month; he could be 10 years younger! Sharply dressed in dark suit, white shirt and, if I'm not mistaken, his Bomber Command tie, Sir Patrick keeps the British end up superbly, sticking it to the Hun* in a variety of bold, cunning and amusing ways. He is entertained by astronomy's answer to Geddy Lee, Prof Michele Dougherty as she and Prof Carl Murray elucidate upon Saturn's ring system, its moons etc. etc. Now, you know my views on telescope wizard Pete Lawrence and his apprentice warlock of the wailing wall, Paul Abel. Suffice to say they turn out the usual performance, tainting Sir Patrick's 15" reflector with their nocturnal love-in. Where's Lintott? *if the Hun in question were, in fact, someone uninitiated in the basics of Saturn.

The Louisiana Brown Pelican basting pelicans

Drunk. Just found myself looking in the mirror and saying aloud "this one's the best yet!". I'm referring, of course, to my new cocktail of Stella Artois and Red Bull, an unimaginative moniker for an unimaginative drink. A drink borne not of desire, but of the mother of all ingenuity; necessity... I need to stay awake all night, loads to do, but I also want to get drunk. Seems the logical mix, given the only alcohol I have in the house is two cans of lager and I also have three cans of Red Bull. If you mix them in just the right proportions it tastes great! Only took me three attempts to get a decent blend. Shame I can't recall exactly what it was. Back to the drawgin board. Anyway, you've probably got things to do...

Someone passing around a particularly difficult Sudoku, were they? "Does the top line go 4, 7, 3... oh, forget it!"

Yeah, some paranoid lunatic will, no doubt, mention the US 'Missile Defence Shield', its mooted partial siting in Poland, the Polish government's tacit approval of this, and Russia's publicly stated and thorough dislike of such... nah, it's probably just a coincidence. Just like when my neighbours hung wind chimes from their gazebo, wind chimes which I have publicly and loudly decried as being the lowest form of unneighbourly cretinry, irritating noise pollution which should be punishable by nothing other than painful death, which happened to be right next to my garden, and which then suddenly disappeared in the middle of the night. Coincidence. These things happen.

True, BS, look at the post-count some people have accrued. I'm sailing merrily towards my 1000th with hardly a single on-topic post, like a crackhead stretching out the cramps long enough to hobble to my dealer's house. Yeah, addiction is just a lack of control. Buck up, addicts. Get a grip. Tell your mind and body not to crave. Easy when you know how!Didn't you once try to give up posting on DL, BS? I bet you were sweating and shaking like a smack addict going cold turkey, right until the moment when you got your fix. People in glass houses... Surely that's why internet forums exist. I'm illiterate in real life.

Sorry, wrong thread.

They're free!

That made me wonder if the dogs' sneezes are a sort of Alpha-response thing... CA is in charge, so do they sneeze when she sneezes (Gesundheit, btw CA!) in much the same way as dogs yawn when their masters/mistresses yawn?That made me wonder if the dogs of those with Tourrette's Syndrome do the same... "Phucking Slag!" followed by "Woof-a-waf!" Not until they pry you from its cold, dead hands! Surely that would make you the model Texan! Throw in a shopping mall and an assault rifle and we've got ourselves a good old-fashioned down-home sneeze-aggravated massacre.