This month it took me a while to get round to fixing up Aril’s best efforts. Here they are in my humble, unworthy, shitty little opinion.
If yours’ isn’t there it’s because I’m thick as mince and missed your obvious genius. Fight me.
Nice to see the dark side of town (Corstorphine) getting a shout-out. I never do quizzes out there, mainly because I never want to go there.Going to Corstorphine is how I imagine death. I’m in no hurry to experience it.
Apart from the zoo.
Mind you, the older I get, the worse I feel about the internment of animals, so even the zoo is shit. Not to mention the price, and the fact they’ve thinned out the animals for ‘welfare’, meaning that there’s only about six different animals in there now.
When I was a kid the animals crammed onto that hillside cheek-by-jowel like raisins in a fruit cake. And they had EVERYTHING. Like Noah’s Ark. It was awesome. And it was about ONE POUND to get in.
And if you couldn’t be bothered even paying a pound, you could easily climb over the fence/gate at the top of Corstorphine Hill.
Not only did this make the zoo free, it also meant that your progress through the animals was all downhill instead of the usual hike upwards.
9pm – Safari Lounge. Jackpot: £30. Cheat: Them music round includes The New York Dolls who were, apparently Morrissey’s favourite band at one time. I only know a couple of their tunes but they rock. Reminds me a little of the Cramps, but with a more glam sound.
I just looked up the singer and am slightly surprised to discover he’s a 70s punk rock star who is still alive. Nice work, David Johansen.
Edinburgh’s like a daft wee village and we’re all pals and we all know each other. Come and meet everyone tongiht at the quizzes:
6pm – The PErsevere. Jackpot £90. Cheat: The picture round includes Billy Joel. Yeah, the piano man.
8pm – Tolbooth Tavern. Jackpot: £90. Cheat: The music round contains a horrible song by Train. See video below to hear the song:
I’m not a hundred per cent sure why I hate this song so much.
I feel it’s part of a shitty trend of American bands who sing seemingly heartfelt songs when you know they couldn’t give a monkey’s.
Fake emotion. Like someone pretending they like the cake you made. I can’t be dealing with it.
Fake emotion. Like he is definitely going to be in love with this bird for ever, guaranteed, not just for one night, promise. And he feel this so deeply he has to make a song about it and wear an “honest” looking denim jacket to complete the look, when he clearly just wants his hole.