Garry Potter And The Same Old Nonsense by David Backhim (ready player one ebook txt) 📕

wrong – as well as occasionally right. It calls to mind a Punt and Dennis sketch entitled ‘Science Is Fun’, I think, apparently in which they explained how helpful it was to have multiple-choice questions which usually included an absolutely absurd option that obviously should be ruled out immediately. For example, four possible answers for one question could be: is it a) an electron; b) a proton; c) an atom; or d) Geoff Hurst in the 1966 World Cup Final. Tragically, I think that too many of my ‘inspired guesses’ in the physics exams were of the Geoff Hurst variety – much to the consternation of my physics ‘master’. I never used the term ‘master’, as this young rebel without a cause never quite saw anything masterful about individuals who are regarded as ‘men amongst boys, but boys amongst men’. My physics under-achievement robbed me of a high-flying career as a rocket scientist, devising even more weapons of mass destruction for Iraq . NASA has never quite recovered from the near-mortal blow of my physics tragedies.
What I find most objectionable about Norn Iron grammar schools in particular, as I stand on my soapbox, is that they produce arrogant, sarcastic know-it-alls, perhaps like me, who are not taught enough humility and respect for everybody. Oh yes, schools try hard to juggle several balls in the air at once, I acknowledge this, but what on God’s earth is the point of learning about ancient Greece and trigonometry formulae whilst many life skills are neglected? For me, it is fundamentally important that teenagers are taught such basics as knowledge of cars, home insurance, life assurance, mortgages, drug and alcohol awareness, even self-defence, not to mention how to cook and even change a light bulb. Too many eighteen-year-olds, like yours truly, once upon a time, go out into the big bad world, snowed under with qualifications and high expectations, thinking that they know it all about everything, when in reality, the poor dears know nothing about anything. Maybe if I’m fighting for my life on a hospital bed or even attempting to raise a family, expertise in ancient Greece and trigonometry formulae will suddenly become belatedly useful, though I doubt it. As that nice Roger Waters once mused, all in all I was ‘just another brick in the wall’.

ALCOHOL: THE BRITISH AND IRISH DISEASE
Oh yes there is scarcely a country or city on the planet that doesn’t have its very own resident drunkards, but ask almost any citizen of the world about the problems of alcohol abuse and anti-social behaviour, and regrettably the British and Irish ‘yoof’ spring to mind all too often. In the British Isles after all, such annual celebrations as New Year’s Eve, Christmas, St Guinness’s Day, St George’s Day, and the 12th of July are merely drinking festivals. It even seems nowadays that the obvious pleasure of enjoying the gift of summer is blighted by the prospect of young people in the neighbourhood congregating in the garden next door and swallowing copious amounts of poison at literally all hours of the day. One only has to randomly trawl through the Myspace, Facebook and Bebo personal profiles to disgustingly discover thousands of young people paying homage to various alcoholic drinks, not to mention countless photographs of them taken in night clubs with such beverages in hand.
Just how do so many under-18s get access to alcohol? Night clubs in a shameless quest for extra revenue will accept almost anyone of any age, with the result that the rest of us suffer the dreaded prospect of boisterous, out of control teenagers pouring onto the streets in the early hours with more drink inside them than their body and mind is equipped to accommodate. All night clubs without exception, like any other club, should be members-only institutions with members aged over eighteen, or better still 21 only admitted. Identity ‘prove it’ cards or passports should be required by any responsible night club before it sells its soul and allows its premises to become a playground for under-age alcohol enthusiasts. Such clubs should be infiltrated by plain clothes police who can spot the presence of under-age occupants and then prosecute non-complying night clubs. Ask night clubs to sign up to such suggestions and one is likely to receive not co-operation but hostility. Ask police to take a more pro-active stance in the war against under-age drinking and they will shrug their shoulders and complain of a lack of resources.
I have come to realise that the police are loath to seize and process the arrest of large groups of anti-social practitioners because of the potential tedium of paperwork. The police much prefer to take the easy option and target one individual here, one individual there. The very notion of challenging a mob of drunken youths is anathema to the so-called forces of law and order. Alcohol consumption should be confined to people of 21 and over, instead of which fifteen or sixteen year olds are already downing poisonous liquids.
What is even more ludicrous but potentially tragic are the glamorous television commercials in which dozens of beautiful people are ‘enjoying’ a cool, sexy Bacardi, Magners or Smirnoff. The trouble is that the models in these advertisements are filmed when they are stone-cold sober. It would be an eye-opener if such commercials were displaying people with a dozen or half a dozen spirits or pints in them. Such enthusiasts would not look so remotely attractive then. Alcohol advertising is massively misleading and should be banned. This will not happen, because in the final analysis, money talks and the rest of us will just have to grin and bear the spiralling problem of alcohol-induced anti-social behaviour. The alcohol manufacturers do include the drink responsibly suggestion in small writing on their products, but asking a young person to drink sensibly is akin to expecting a Formula One racing competitor to drive carefully.

PARTY ANIMAL
I occasionally get invited out by people, who obviously don’t know me very well. I mean I’d rather stick my head down the toilet than enlist in a lads’ night out bonding exercise. I’ve been there and done that. One goes out, drinks too much, spends too much, and unlike in the movies, comes home to an empty bed, having spent several wasted hours watching other people ‘enjoy themselves’. Oh yes, I cheerfully steer clear of that pathetic scenario nowadays.
Then of course, I don’t care much for socialising with a large group of people. Some people might prefer safety in numbers, but crammed in to a venue of ear-splitting, obnoxious music coupled with a large queue at the bar is not my idea of a good time. I even try to avoid work night outs or Christmas dinners which predictably are dominated by the loquacious few, in which several loud mouths hold forth on the tedious ‘I’ve done this and I’ve done that, and I’ve been here and I’ve been there, and I’ve seen everything and I know everything’, while the rest of the assembled mass hang off their every word. Meanwhile yours truly just slopes off to the periphery in self-imposed exile and protest at the proceedings. Worse still, once the drink starts to flow and the demons come out to play, then various people engage in a little light-hearted banter (or craic) in which friends and work colleagues tease each other. This evolves into sarcastic put downs. I mean there is only so much leg-pulling one can achieve, before the leg comes off. Ah yes, it all ends in tears and recriminations.
Ultimately, if you need liqueur as a means of seeking attention, you deserve pity. Can there be anyone more dreadfully dull than someone who needs alcohol to have a good time?

WEAKNESS
What exactly is weakness? Weakness is when you cannot devote yourself to one partner, even though you promised to do so. Weakness is when you cannot control your temper. There is nothing strong about acts of violent fury. Weakness is when one or two alcoholic beverages are not enough. Weakness is when you have to possess what everybody else seems to have. Weakness is not being content with what you own, and you crave more. Speaking of cravings, weakness is when you cannot resist such desires as smoking. I have tended to refrain from ranting about smoking, but all I can say is that when I see someone ‘coolly’ holding a cigarette, I think that the smoker should simply wear a tee-shirt stating that ‘I hate myself’. Weakness is simply a lack of self-control. You can be a muscular, powerful body-builder with bulging biceps, and yet be terribly weak. Ultimately we are all weak, but some people are weaker than others.

CONCERT CRETINS AND FESTIVAL FOOLS
I have to laugh at these people who state their dislike for religion before proceeding to follow the crowd and assemble in a muddy field, herded together like foul-smelling cattle as they pay collective homage to the pock-marked, acne, guitar heroes performing up high on the stage. These young idols fly in to the concert venue on their helicopter and then sing about their standard theme tunes of angst, boredom, depression, and despair before being flown back to their country mansion, whilst the ‘in-crowd’ spend several hours both queuing to get in and then dispersing at the end of the ‘fun’. No you won’t find me huddled together with fellow-believers worshipping that shambles. Yet again it all comes down to bragging rights. Person A wants to tell his or her mates that they saw U2 or Bruce Springsteen the other night. So, where exactly did you bump into them, then? Was it at the local off-license or were they waiting for their order at the local Chinese takeaway? No, they were up on a stage, seventy yards away in a big stadium!
The poor lonely crowd desperately attempting to re-create the next Woodstock are akin to the masses who chose to follow ‘Brian’. “Think for yourselves”, Brian urged his followers. How ironic that the bandwagon-jumping festival-goers who express their admiration for ‘The Life Of Brian’ are the living embodiment of Brian’s hangers-on, desperately seeking a flawed, human Messiah. It’s a pity that they are too pissed and stoned to realise that the joke is on them. Still, they’re not going to let the truth get in the way of their foolish escapism.

EMPTY GLASSES
There are a lot of silly people whose lives are like an empty glass…which needs alcohol to fill it. Give them a glass full of poison, they lose their inhibitions, start behaving ‘out of character’ and apparently have a good time, or what is known amongst the alcohol-addicted Irish as ‘craic’. They empty the glass down their stomach and then they too feel empty again. Ah yes, but