9 countries. 84,000 people, and rising.
The carnage that has swept through Asia and even some of Africa is completely devastating.

My heartfelt condolences to all victims of this dire tragedy and members of their family.
To everyone who comes across this blog entry, please post a sympathetic note on the tagboard to the left, whether you've ever tagged or not.
It might not change anything, and it definitely wouldn't help anyone or anything. But it's the least we could do.

-Mission Impossible-

Despondent I am, as I sadly announce the unfortunate but inevitable official abandonment of the much-hyped Pires Project. I have come to terms with the knowledge that I don't have what it takes to see such a task to fruition, and it is in the interest of all related parties that this assignment be discontinued. This news must come as a big shock to everyone, but I we must all be strong and persevere in these dark times.
So goodbye, Black Strip, and fare thee well.

[A dark, hollow room with a dark glass wall. In the middle stands a wooden table and above it, a solitary light bulb. On opposite sides of the table are 2 chairs, seated on which are Jonny Baby, a tall, 20-year-old Chinese male of moderate build and spiky hair, decked in a suit, and a grey-haired policeman in a white shirt, black pants and suspenders, approaching his 50s, nationality unknown]

Siddown.

You mind turning that light down? It's a lil' taxing on the eyes.

Zees ees un interrogation room, not un living room!

Oh really? Cool. Always a first time then. So what'm innere for?

My people ees say zey see you een Varsaw vit people committing crimes against ze Polish, drinking ze Polish Vodka und eating ze Polish meat, hitting on ze Polish women, no?

That's not a crime, is it?

Een zees country, eet ees.

Oh. Damn. That can't be good. So your people saw my people flirting with Eastern European people and that's not right in this country.

[ponders for a while] Oui.

And what country is this again?

[with the expression of one who usually only asks questions, not answer them] I only ask questions, not answer zem! Oonderstand?

So you ask the questions.

Oui.

And I answer them.

Oui.

So questions will be asked of me, and you will get the answers.

Oui.

So me ask questions, you answer.

Oui. Why are you asking so many of zees questions?

Ok, I'm beginning to grasp this relationship now. but I'll let what you just said pass. Now here's what happened. The 6th team wanted to go somewhere for an end-of-term dinner. Ideas mooted included Ponti's and Belgo. And before you know it, we were on a plane to friggin' Warsaw. I had to take 2 days off school to go for that. We had a traditional Polish breakfast a couple of Kamikaze's at a chic local pub, and a rather grand dinner at this way posh restaurant, all this time suited up in our finest. I had a Polish cabbage starter and a Highlander Hand of Pork - essentially a huge serving of steamed pork knuckle. Can I go now? My mum wants me back by eight. We're visiting me nan.

Non, you stay. After zat? What you do?

After that? We'll probably go round the back of nan's house for ice-cream.

Non, non! Sac de merde! After ze dinner in Varsaw.

Oh, that. Nothing really. We popped back to the airport and slept there till our flight.

You lie!

Is that a crime?

Oui!!! Zey say you broke into ze Polish bank and stole ze Polish jewels.

Yeah, and then we had an audience with the Queen, got knighted and Harry Potter came by on a broomstick. Reel it in.
We went to this club called the Underground and someone told some chicks we were the Chelsea U-24s. We got plenty more female attention after that, I tell ya. I watched on as the boys pulled girls all night, including a rather gangly one who later remembered to inform us that she just happened to be married. We left the joint at 2 -- and that's when things got ugly.
They were turning Christmas lights off and kicking and stamping on cars and climbing scaffoldings and tearing off those police cordon tapes -

Sacre bleu!

Yes. Sacre bleu indeed. They broke into a post office, they kicked down road barriers, they hurled imprecations at random passers-by all night, they -

[light goes off and comes on again, and Jonny Baby has disappeared, and in his place sits a Coffee Monkey]

- Occum's Razor: Entia non sunt multiplicande praeter necessitatem -

A pool-playing Samuel Gan: "I think something's wrong with my hand. When I try to shoot, naturally I tend to jerk ... off."

- Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? And who the heck is Parson Brown? -

A belated Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to all viewers of this blog.
Christmas was ushered in at a special service at Westminster Abbey this year, the way it really ought to be. 7 non-Christian Singaporeans, however, were spotted sheepishly beating a hasty exit 45 minutes before the service was expected to end.

-Any inconvenience caused regretted-

The staff at SDRR, from the Assistant Chief Editor and the Crazed-Stalker-Masquerading-As-Head-Scoop to the Coffee Monkey and the Shoeshine Boy, sincerely apologise for our tardiness in updating this blogsite for the voyeuristic pleasure of all and sundry. While we are aware that our work here plays an integral part in shaping the lives of certain loyal subscribers and hardcore fanatics, and while we recognise the issue that depriving said people of material for gossip borders on extreme torment, we ask for our readers' understanding that the lack of internet access has circumscribed our ability to update this site.
To make up for our absence in the past weeks, however, we promise a bumper crop of articles today, and hope that this shall be enough to at0ne for our sins of neglect.

Situated in the heart of central London, the TingTangWallaWallaBigBang tribe (as epitomised by their chieftain, pictured) both attack and defend with their feet. In a curious attempt to intimidate the opposition, members of the reclusive tribe smear on their faces and arms their own blood, rather than that of fallen opponents. 

- disjointed, discursive diatribe -

Some have heard of JB's Pires project.
What is the Pires project?
Some say it is a voyage of self-discovery.
Some claim it is a quest for self-gratification, if not self-preservation.
Yet others suggest that it gives meaning to the soul.
It is abstruse, circuitous, enigmatic, bewildering, meandering, perplexing, daedal, obscure and recondite.
It is a Gordian knot that cannot be cut.
We will never know.

- delivering on a promise -

The Friday of Week 9 of Michaelmas Term saw Jonny Baby succumb to a moment of indiscretion at the traditional AU Barrel. All right, make that 2.5 hours of indiscretion, followed rather closely by 2 hours of bowl-hugging joy.

8 pints of Snakebite (a vile concoction of Carling and Cranberry Juice) and one of Carling, all downed in quick succession, culminated in JB being far too inebriated to make the Barrel Run*. Or the Barrel Walk. For him, it was pretty much the Barrel Sit-down.

An eyewitness claimed he spotted JB 'falling up the stairs. I didn't think it was possible, but he fell UP the stairs, rather than down them'.

Amid much confusion and chaos, JB somehow found his way up 4 flights of stairs to the Brunch Bowl where he proceeded to display the contents of his gut to all and sundry before he was ushered into a toilet, where he greeted the toilet bowl with open arms.

2 hours later, he was brought home by year one student Andrew Lim. Claims that he may have been raped on the way home are as yet unverified.

*The Barrel Run, for the uninitiated, is a procession of Athletics Union members running semi-sloshed around the school led by a naked first-year rugby player, disrupting lectures and ruining the appetities of all hapless individuals whose misfortune it might be to witness the run while in the process of consuming food. Despite the state of the participants, this is largely a non-violent event, and may (or should) be taken as a social statement against crimes against humanity committed in Iraq and Iran as well as the exploitation of young children in the sex, cotton and toilet-bowl cleaning industries. Word has it that in certain parts of the world, children are even coerced into attending school and sitting for examinations. The horror.

- 1, 2, 5 -

Returning home in the wee hours of the morning just isn't what it's cut out to be.

Gah
. Brussels and Brugges
. A box of Fudge
. Bedlinen
. A bunch of Euros
. A little suitcase
. A packet of Hokkien mee
. A mask

- Maybe Chih Yang was right after all. That sucks -

This is the first song that gets a reappearance on this site. But this time I didn't cut and paste the words, I wrote each word one by one.

Beauty queen of only nineteen
She had some trouble with herself
He was always there to help her
She always belonged to someone else

I drove for miles and miles
And wound up at your door
I've had you so many times
But somehow I want more

I don't mind spending everyday
Out on your corner in the pouring rain
Look for the girl with the broken smile
And ask her if she wants to stay a while

And she will be loved
She will be loved

So it's true after all. Nice guys don't finish last. Cos they don't even start the race.
Why the hell do girls like bad boys so much?

- Fallout of insignificance -

Walked home at 5.15 am on the last day of school in a bit of a daze. Didn't quite know what I was doing; let my legs lead the way, and they somehow brought me to my doorstep.

Confusion
Disappointment
All of which gave way to general Unhappiness
Anger
Which eventually led to Bitter Hatred
And finally Disappointment all over again.

Hats off to you on a job well done. But you'll get yours someday, you sneaky rascal you.
Oh, you BLOODY will.

- Perpetuated pomp! Pithy persiflage! -

I know, I know. Neglect has laid siege on this blog like the insidious creep of moss and mildew on the walls of a dilapidated building.

Worry not, you worrywarts, I'll be back to my (not very) brilliant best in a few days, when I can finally settle down and write a short synopsis of the very harrowing past few days. The plot thickens as you hear of my discomfitingly inebriated shenanigans, my blood facepaint and my warped thoughts on my monetary ambition.

Watch this space. closely.