Not a bleedin’ valentine

Current mood: Posing as a not-so-romantic poet
Current music: ‘Blood Money’ by Luke Pickett

The way things are shaping up, it doesn’t look like I’m able to get out more than, oh, about one blog entry a year. I’m sorry guys, but life just kinda gets in the way. (However, before you get any ideas, I’d state quite positively that death would be an even greater deterrent to blogging.) It’s a curious thing, but if one has a busy life one hasn’t much time to write about it; and conversely, if one has a dull and uneventful life, one has nothing to write about.

With Valentine’s Day coming up, I thought I should treat all you lost souls and bleeding hearts out there to a brand-spanking-new poem I wrote on love. This is not, under any circumstances, to be mistaken for a ‘love poem’. Read on, and you shall see...

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SO TELL ME, JUST WHAT THE HELL IS ‘LOVE’, ANYWAY?

Not a bleedin’ valentine; but rather, a sort of multi-layered poetic sandwich

(2010)

By Aureala

So tell me,
Just what the hell is ‘love’, anyway?
What does this terrible four-letter word mean?
There must be a million –
No, make that a billion –
Cheesy love poems out there; and from what I’ve seen,
Few are at all accurate in what they say,
And not one clinches it for me.

That’s why I’m sitting here,
Trying to work it out for myself.
It’s all very well, growing up on some fairy-tale ideal;
But then you step out and find a real dragon or pirate or demon,
And you realise that all the brave warriors and knights and seamen
Are actually silver-tongued salesmen spouting advertising spiel.
You turn them down, of course, but then you worry about being left on the shelf
Which, anthropologists will probably declare, is a pretty ancient fear.*

Seeing as there’s no ready-made Prince Charming,
How is a girl supposed to choose?
‘Follow your heart!’ urge a billion amateur poets,
Trying to drown me in their sea of cliché.
Follow some blood-pumping muscular body part? I’ll decline, if I may –
I reject this view that girls possess no wits.
Without great thought and care, there is much one might lose;
If you consider the stakes, it’s positively alarming.

The trouble with trusting your feelings is, how can you tell
The difference between love and obsession, obsession, obsession?
The heart, instead of being a beacon of truth, grows tight and flutters weakly instead,
While below it, the guts twist like snakes, writhing around.
Then the same battered old train of thought begins to pound,
Running berserk in wild circles (the driver’s dribbling drivel and there’s been a massive signal failure) inside your head,
And you feel as though you’re being whacked repeatedly by a wicked little imp with a wickedly large hammer in its possession,
Who’s trying to turn your life into a first-class private hell.

You can’t seriously expect me to believe that that’s love?
’Cause if it is, love is a highly over-rated emotion;
But that’s just how it seems to hit me every time.
Worse still, love is highly irrational!
Even if you think that of all human beings you are the most rational,
On closer inspection you’ll find that any rationalising you do on love is done after the fact, not before, and therefore you are clearly sans reason, sans rhyme.
There is nothing but some primal urge that’s causing your blind devotion,
And you can’t purposely change how you feel, when push comes to shove.

Even now, those billion poets must think me thoroughly cynical;
I can almost see the contempt in their eyes, hear their disdainful denunciation.
But surely it isn’t only me who gets rattled
By the kind of love that crashes around your system like an irate rhinoceros?
To feel nothing at all, and then to be suddenly wracked by torment, is surely rather monstrous?
There must be someone who, when struck by Fat Boy’s arrow, doesn’t get so embattled;
Who assumes a serene guise, and loves in moderation,
And isn’t drenched in angst over matters merely physical.

To be honest, I find the thought of such a complete lack of passion rather a bore;
Yet passion without any deeper meaning is, frankly, even more boring.
Maybe it’s a fact that only a few can see:
That you’d need less than a requisite number of brain cells to find sex without love at all gratifying
(Well, unless you’re that kind of bloke). For my part, I reckon intellectual stimulation is far more satisfying,
As is good conversation. But to hear couples bicker, perhaps marriage isn’t all it’s cracked up to be,
And perhaps all that truly matters in a partner is whether or not he’s heavily snoring.
These days, no one appears to believe in soul mates any more.

It’s not that I don’t feel – still waters run deeper than I can say –
It’s just that I think, too, as I hope you’ll agree.
Unfortunately, I still get besieged by charging rhinos and train wrecks and winged babies with a cruel flair.
Thus, in defiance of those billion banal poets, I won’t be writing any bleedin’ valentines,
At least not the sort that start with the old ‘Roses are red / Violets are blue’ lines.
For all my ranting and rambling, it’s apparent I haven’t really gotten anywhere;
So tell me,
Just what the hell is ‘love’, anyway?

* Possibly dating as far back as the invention of the shelf.

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Happy Valentine’s Day, folks! Feel free to run out and buy your heart-shaped boxes of chocolates now (and eat them yourself)...

Retrospective... and the Rorschach Banana Test

Current mood: Retrospective
Current music: Led Zeppelin, would you believe

I am APPALLED at how long it has been since my last post. Good grief! Where has my YEAR gone?! Did I get a visit from the Thieves of Time? *Shock, horror* Here we are, a month into 2009, and my poor little blog has been mouldering away for aeons in hopes of attention...

Of course, my relentless, infernal busyness has been preventing me from doing things like blogging and hanging around social networking sites - the latter, in particular, is entertaining but addictive, and therefore a huge time waster. I name no names, but those of you in the know will realise which website I am wagging a disapproving finger at. Anyway, my life appears to be one long cycle of work-class-coursework, with items such as 'eat', 'sleep', and unfortunately, 'exam' and 'project' thrown in somewhere. Grrrr.

Anyway, the major highlight of the past 12 months was (for me, at any rate) my trip to Sydney (as you see, I did go back for more), which was as lovely as ever. I visited all the usual touristy spots that I missed last time, like the Sydney Tower and the Aquarium. Better yet, I went dolphin watching and sand-boarding at a place called Port Stephens, a few hours away from the city. The dolphins were rather apathetic that day and didn't bother peeking out of the water, which was a shame; but the sand-boarding was brilliant, and I highly recommend it. Its premise is simplicity itself - you wax the bottom of a board to make it slippery, you position it at the top of a sand dune, and then you sit on the board and slide down the dune. Whoosh! How hard is that? The trickiest part of the process is getting back up the shifting slope of sand with your board. What goes down must jolly well come up again, or else they'll drive off without you...

Other highlights (in an artistic vein) included going to an excellent gig by Harry Connick Jr. early in 2008, and much more recently, a Big Band Fest with five different big bands playing swing all afternoon. It's a shame there wasn't a dance floor; it would've been fun to bop along, and I reckon the audience was up for it. I also saw an excellent theatrical production of 'The 39 Steps'. If you're in London or New York, I definitely recommend watching the play, which won the Laurence Olivier Award for Best New Comedy in 2007 (should you set any store by that sort of thing). It's a faithful but comedic treatment of Alfred Hitchcock's 1935 film of the same name. The 'comedy thriller' has a plot of the espionage variety, complete with shady spies, a mysterious yet glamorous woman, murders, and chase scenes across train roofs and wild moors. Don't take any of this seriously, though, because the delivery is laugh-out-loud funny - much of the humour arises from the ingenuity and hilarity that come with not being able to use the many elaborate sets and props usually employed in film. Well, that and the fact that there were only 4 actors playing some 150 different parts! Furthermore, if you're a film buff, you could sit there spotting one Hitchcock reference after another. I believe it is still showing at the West End and on Broadway - just check out http://www.love39steps.com/ for more.

What else did I do in the intervening time? My mind seems to have drawn a blank. I think I can be said to have an 'external photographic memory', in the sense that I can't actually remember anything that happens unless I have the photographs I took to prove it. [Consults photographs] It would appear that apart from the above, I've mostly been hanging out with friends in whatever free time I have...

OK, so I exaggerate, my memory isn't exactly like that of a goldfish. Perhaps I'm just going slightly off my rockers with stress. The other day I spotted dinosaurs on a bunch of bananas. I wonder what Rorschach (of inkblot test fame) might have said. Then again, a guy who was preoccupied with first splotching ink onto paper and folding it in half, and then forcing other people to see things in the resultant mess, might have said anything, so you shouldn't really take his word for it. Wikipedia claimed that Hermann Rorschach made 'inkblots his life's work'; compared to him, I seem pretty normal!

Anyway, here are the prehistoric bananas, labelled for your benefit:

Images of pteranodon (top) and parasaurolophus (bottom) mysteriously imprinted on the fruit of Musa × paradisiaca

I'd be interested to know what other people see in those curiously shaped blotches on the banana peels. Does anyone else envision creatures of the Cretaceous, or is my watching 'Jurassic Park' at an impressionable age to blame?

While we're in a bananary frame of mind, I thought I'd throw in my tribute to René Magritte, who of course painted the iconic 'La Trahison des Images':

The original by Magritte

My interpretation as a non-smoker

A little while ago, I was discussing with a friend how I came to know the somewhat uncommon (these days, at least) word 'suet', which generally appears alongside 'pudding' or 'dumpling' in the context of traditional British foodstuffs. My only explanation for my knowledge of esoteric terms is the fact that I read a lot, and tend to pick up unusual words from books or sometimes straight from the dictionary. Hey, I like unusual words! Here are some of my favourites:

1. Mellifluous
2. Tintinnabulation
3. Susurrus
4. Effervescent
5. Scintillate
6. Serendipity
7. Discombobulate
8. Contraindicated
9. Eviscerate
10. Floccinaucinihilipilification

Oh, and 'pusillanimous' is a good insult.

Mind you, these are all words that I like as words - they sound pleasing, interesting, or amusing - and may or may not necessarily fit into an everyday conversation. For example, 'eviscerate' is quite a nice sounding word, but it actually turns out to mean 'disembowel'. Now how often does that come up, unless you're talking shop with your butcher?

So, dear readers (and I hope there are some of you left!), what are some of your favourite words? Comments in the comments box, please... Thank you. Thank you very much.

Pyrmont poesy

Current mood: Poetic
Current music: 'Moonlight in...' Well, you'll see

In a recent spate of haiku writing (blame Edsters; it was his idea), I thought I'd turn my attention to rewriting the lyrics of the old jazz standard, 'Moonlight in Vermont'. This wonderful song was written almost entirely in haikus, apart from the middle section. It has been recorded by so many big names in jazz that one is quite amazed that any more can be added to the list. Originally recorded by Margaret Whiting in 1944, it has since been covered by Frank Sinatra, Chet Baker, Stan Getz, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong, and many, many more. I don't pretend to have heard all of these different versions - one would probably get a little tired of it after hearing it fifty times in a row, no matter how creatively it is interpreted each time.

So for a little variation, I've come up with 'Moonlight in Pyrmont', which is set not in America but in Australia. Pyrmont is one of Sydney's inner-city suburbs (isn't that a bit oxymoronic?) and, conveniently, is only two letters off from 'Vermont', hence my choice. Consider this to be my tribute to Sydney, which I visited briefly a few weeks ago and fell in love with completely.* The weather was simply fantastic. The skies were clear almost every day, and the generous amounts of sunlight made everything very photogenic - the Opera House, the Harbour Bridge, the city skyline, the beaches, and of course the deep blue sea. I am not done with Sydney yet, and will definitely be going back for more!

And now, without further ado... 'Moonlight in Pyrmont'.

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MOONLIGHT IN PYRMONT
(2007)

By Aureala

Sung to the tune of 'Moonlight in Vermont' (1943)
by John Blackburn & Karl Suessdorf



The candied lights of the city shimmer beneath
Sydney Harbour Bridge

Picture taken from: http://www.bridgeclimb.com/theBridge/bridgephotos.htm

Seagulls in a dream
Twirling down, then up they soar
Moonlight in Pyrmont

Coloured banners sway
City where the stars all shine
Footlights in Pyrmont

Under white arches, they're singing an opera
As we fly 'cross the Bridge overhead
Darling, we'll meet at the sweet Darling Harbour
And we'll sail tonight in the lovely

Lights that catch on waves
Drifting over Cockle Bay
Moonlight in Pyrmont

You and me and moonlight in Pyrmont

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I've followed the feel of the original lyrics quite faithfully; you're welcome to make comparisons. If you're at all familiar with Sydney, see how many place references you can spot...

That's all for now, folks. Until next time, ladies and gents - goodbye and goodnight.

* All right, I like everything except for the flies. And the sharks. And all the poisonous critters that lurk about in unexpected places...

Le roi est mort, vive le roi

Current mood: Arty

Current music: A becoming silence (I don't have any opera on me)

Pavarotti is dead. The King of the High C's is no more. The Vienna State Opera and the Salzburg Festival Hall have both raised black flags, and opera fans around the world are in mourning for a man who was a legend in his own lifetime.

Picture taken from http://www.amcostarica.com/020204.htm

Admittedly, I myself am not an opera fan per se, but I do like to see one occasionally, and at any rate Pavarotti did have a lot of talent, which I respect. I only wish I went to his concert when he performed here in 2005. The music world has lost a great voice, and the Three Tenors are now down to two. And who wants to listen to just 'Two Tenors', without the Tenor who had the greatest power and charisma of the lot?

So a moment of silent tribute, please, to Luciano Pavarotti...

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[Silence]

********************

Anyway, in an attempt to lighten the mood, I shall now go on to what I had been planning to post for months but hadn't got round to actually posting, because I have been so phenomenally busy. I currently have Mandarin classes, Music classes, and Master's classes - also known as the Three M's - every week. And that's not even counting work!

The first item is a parody of the Spice Girls' 1996 hit song, 'Wannabe'. (Interestingly, Pavarotti has performed with the Spice Girls before.) This is yet another Aureala & Edsters collaborative work; Edsters wrote such a brilliant rap and ending to go with what I'd already written, that I just had to include them. So here it is - 'Wannabe' taken to the world of art appreciation (or criticism, as the case might be):

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WANNA SEE

(2007)

Sung to the tune of the Spice Girls' 1996 hit song, 'Wannabe'

By Aureala & Edsters

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you want the future, check out the past

Though it may change with the times, great art will last

Come to the galleries - which, rain or shine

Are full of culture vultures seeking a good time

I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

What d'ya think about art? Let me know how you feel

This guy's done half a dead cow; is he for real?

A glass of water upon a shelf

Isn't art, but something I could make myself

Yo, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want

So tell me what you want, what you really really want

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna

Really really really wanna Tatertate-boat

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

So here's a story from Tate to Tate

You wanna go with me, you gotta like a good debate

Is it junk in the place that has a modern face?

Is it Tate M or B you really wanna see?

Artistry doesn't come for free (unlike entry)

It's B for me, you'll see!

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

If you wanna see Tate Modern, you gotta get down the Thames

Sure, some art is crazy, but they've some little gems

If you wanna see Tate Britain, head back up the river

Admiring art is easy; creating never is, uh

If you wanna see Tate Modern

You gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta

Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it all around

Take the Tate boat and zoom it real far

If you wanna see Tate Modern

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Picture taken from http://www.tate.org.uk/tatetotate

If you aren't a Londoner and are a bit puzzled by some of our references, let me just briefly explain that Tate Britain and Tate Modern are two art galleries along London's river Thames. There is a boat that runs between the two, aptly called the 'Tate to Tate Boat', or just the 'Tate Boat'. It's a speedy little thing in glorious multicoloured dots, and zips up and down the river at quite a decent pace. Apart from being a convenience to gallery-goers, it's a fabulous way to travel. Check out http://www.tate.org.uk/tatetotate if you're interested.

As for the actual art that's exhibited, the Tate Britain has more traditional kinds of British art, whereas the Tate Modern focuses on modern art, though Edsters is particularly acerbic about post-modern 'art' (hence it's Tate B for him). Personally I quite like both Tates, although I must admit that a glass of water placed upon a shelf and titled 'An Oak Tree' is Not Art. It is, quite frankly, ridiculous. You can see it at http://www.tate.org.uk/servlet/ViewWork?workid=27072. In fact, I've just found a hilarious interview with the so-called artist, Michael Craig-Martin, on http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/~ig206/oak_tree.html (thank you, Google!). Go on, knock yourselves out.

The other item I'd like to share with you today is a little poem I wrote upon coming upon an interesting word in the dictionary one day. The basic premise of the poem is not for the squeamish, but if you intend to read it anyway, it might help to imagine yourself as a gentleman, back in the days of Victorian England...

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A TASTE OF VICTORIAN MEDICINE

(2007)

By Aureala

Bdellatomy [deh-LAT-uh-mee] (n.) - The name given to the practice of cutting leeches to empty them of blood while they still continue to suck. [Modified from Greek: 'Bdella', leech + 'tomia', a cutting.]

~ The Oxford English Dictionary ~

A night on the town

In the jewel of the Crown,

Old London! was ne'er to be missed;

So the lads from the club

Took me round every pub

To find booze and some girls to be kissed.

A minx danced the zambra

At the rowdy Alhambra

The crowd roared, and started a fight -

The Hall's chief amusements

Are music, amazement,

And riots that last through the night.

All was not well

At the three o'clock bell,

As we stumbled out onto the street.

The lamp-post pounced idly,

The gutter yawned widely

And swallowed me, quick and discreet.

An indulgent old bobby

Brought me to the lobby

Of my landlady's humble abode.

I murmured of headache,

And neck-ache, and leg-ache

As my knee swelled into a geode.

What a fuss did she make!

And nought would she take

But the best, for her prodigal son.

The old dear brought a tonic

And called in a medic -

Though I thank the Lord, only one.

'Is it serious?' she cried.

'Not at all,' Doc replied,

'These young men are always afire!

Have no fear, my good fellow!'

And my face turned yellow -

Such words are unfailingly dire.

He placed a fat bdella

Upon my patella

And gave me a good, hearty leeching;

But the Doc was unfazed

As calmly he gazed

At a full-grown man screaming and screeching.

With sweat down my collar

And eyes wide with horror,

I watched the thing gulping and gorging;

The leech's incision

Had been made with precision;

While it sucked, it was also disgorging!

It was just as I dreaded -

It made me light-headed -

Blood loss threw me into a faint.

When I woke, Doc was gone;

My landlady looked on,

And her smile was like that of a saint.

'My dear, are you better?

I am such a fretter;

Don't stay out all night, e'er again!'

I can't keep that promise

But the point I brought home is:

When hung-over, NEVER complain!

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Let that be a lesson to you all. Goodbye and goodnight!

Le Mois Français

Current mood: Un peu français
Current music: Reliving the memories of songs

My my, I have grown lazy haven't I? What with the combination of writer's block, apathy, and actually being a busy bee, I haven't written in quite a while. I used to write once a fortnight. I must be getting old or something; the brain's getting rusty, you know...

As far as the 'being busy' goes, last month it was all to do with my choir's concert, when we performed a highly interesting variety of a cappella music from around the world (including a song I wrote and arranged myself, hehe). We did songs from Australia, Nigeria, Norway, the US, and Hong Kong too. Oh, and thanks to the choir publicity, I have managed to get my name in two different newspapers, and made an appearance on TV! We're on the up and up, folks! (Well OK, really it was only a couple of sentences in the paper, and probably less than half a minute of TV footage, but at least they were broadcasting my song. Better than absolument rien.)

This month's 'being busy' mainly involves work, which is not quite as exciting as media appearances, so I shall move swiftly on...

Every May, Hong Kong holds a month-long festival of French culture, which is currently in its 15th year; it's called 'Le French May'. I have problems with this name, because the only French word in it is Le. I rather think it should be called Mai Français for verisimilitude, although admittedly - making the fair assumption that more Hong Kongers know English than know French - it would be harder for the local populace to pronounce. Anyway, the festival includes opera, music, dance, cinema, etc. that has some link (however tenuous) with France.

Being a bit of a culture vulture (especially if said culture is French), I booked myself some tickets to see Emilie Simon, whom I initially knew only as the girl responsible for the soundtrack of the 2005 French documentary, 'La Marche de l'Empereur' (aka 'The Emperor's Journey' or 'March of the Penguins', depending on where you are). I really liked this film (which I reviewed, way back), and remembered the hauntingly surreal electro-pop music that accompanied it, so I thought, 'Why not?' I had no idea what to expect. At the start of the show I saw on stage:

1. A grand piano, sans lid. This was one of the few items recognisable as a musical instrument.
2. A drum. Also recognisable.
3. A large glass bowl of water, with a metal block in it. Not usually associated with music, and in fact it took me a while to work out what it actually was, because from a distance it just looked like an enormous hemispherical glassy paperweight.
4. Some computer gadgets, including a mysterious thing that looks like an empty black photo frame.

The set-up certainly promised an interesting show.

After the usual long wait for something, anything to happen, a tall, skinny figure finally stalked on stage. It was dressed in a long, flappy black coat and a black top hat, and could really only be described as 'odd'. Mr Odd got the ball rolling with his computer wizardry, fooling around with knobs and dials and a lot of (presumably) pre-programmed electronic tracks. He was soon joined by a more regular-looking guy on the drum, and finally Mlle Simon herself floated onstage, barefoot. She looked lovely in a cute little navy-shading-to-black dress, and played an electric guitar with a considerable amount of spunk. She also had a large black gadget strapped to her bare arm, which looked rather uncomfortable - but more on that later.

Picture taken from www.frenchmay.com

Emilie may look slender and delicate and slightly built, but she packed a helluva punch in her powerful voice. She delivered a number of roaring rock songs to get the crowd going (which included quite a lot of French expats - where do they usually hide out, I wonder?) before suddenly changing the atmosphere completely with some calming melodies on the piano. Her 'ballad voice' was much sweeter than her 'rock voice', but with a sort of 'whiny' edge that justifies the description of her as the 'French Björk'. She took us from wild, angry guitar rock to the dreamy soundscapes of electro-pop, with her imaginative lyrics weaving from French to English and back again.

What about all those funky gadgets? Well, the black 'photo frame' device appeared to consist of lights and light sensors, since whenever Mr Odd moved his hand through it, the chords of the electronic track would change. I'm not precisely sure why it was necessary, as surely one could have pre-programmed the whole track, but maybe they used it when someone was improvising and the music would thus vary with each performance. Or maybe it just looked stylish.

The mystery object strapped to Emilie's arm appeared to be some kind of sampler. In one song, she pointed it at the percussionist, recorded what he was playing, and then played it back as the drum beat for that piece. In another song, she sang into it herself, and her voice echoed and bounced around as she kept on singing and sampling. In this way, she managed to more or less accompany herself all the way through. (It would be so much fun to have one of those. Unfortunately I have a feeling that I won't be able to afford it just yet.)

As if all this weren't creative enough, there was the matter of the percussionist: a man who could 'percuss' on anything. Ordinary drums and drumsticks do of course require talent for their operation, but are pretty mundane really. When you can get a good rhythm going by tapping on the inside of a lidless grand piano, and coax different sounds out of it by striking on its strings and wooden body, you're getting good. And when you can tap a military march on the surface of a bowl of water, and perfectly incorporate in your song the chiming gloingoingoing sound of a vibrating metal block being immersed in water, then you're definitely drifting into 'modern art' territory, and I take my hat off to you for being interestingly experimental. (Not, of course, that I ever wear a hat.)

I've just looked at the French May website and found out that Mlle Simon's two supporting musicians are called Cyrille and Cyril, though it is somewhat beyond me to tell you who was who. The trio played a fantastic set, with songs from all three of Emilie's albums, although it was a trifle shorter than I'd have liked; it only lasted about 75 minutes. I guess it must have been pretty tiring to sing for over an hour non-stop. All in all, it was an excellent show. Emilie Simon - creative, versatile, and fun - is a force to be reckoned with, and the pop music industry had better watch out!

From the world of pop music, let us now sashay into the realm of classical music. The other night I went to see a concert by the Hong Kong Sinfonietta, featuring a French guest pianist in - you guessed it - another of the French May shows. The orchestra performed César Franck's 'Symphony in D Minor' - a beautiful piece - and a local composer's original work, called 'Illumination'. This contemporary number sounded like a crescendo several minutes long, and whilst the tremolos and instrumental textures were interesting, the effect of tinnitus caused by too many shrill notes towards the end is not one to be voluntarily experienced more than once. 'Illumination' is best described as 'movie music, but without the movie'.

The guest soloist appeared in only one of the pieces, but he was the true highlight of the evening. For starters, they magically transformed him with the Elixir of Youth before the show:

BEFORE ..................................................................... AFTER

Pictures taken from http://www.frenchmay.com

Amazing, innit? But seriously. The original pianist was Jean-Claude Pennetier (see 'Before', the older man with a greying beard), who cancelled his performance due to 'unforeseen medical reasons', the poor man. Apparently he had severe tendonitis, which sounds awfully painful, and particularly incapacitating for someone whose very career depends upon the fine motor skills of his fingers. I guess it must be an occupational hazard. It's a shame, but such is life (and old age).

His replacement, who was found in a frantic last-minute search by the behind-the-scenes administrators of the Sinfonietta, is also French, which is good because the audience might have felt cheated otherwise. Honestly, there wasn't anything for me to complain about. Quite on the contrary, in fact. The new pianist was Cédric Tiberghien, a rising star in classical piano. He was the winner of the 1998 Long-Thibaud Competition in Paris at the age of 23, and even now, with four solo albums and another four collaborative albums under his belt, he is barely in his 30s (see 'After', the handsome young man with a dazzling smile). Talk about eye candy, eh? Obviously ear candy is of greater importance here, and Cédric didn't disappoint. He strode on stage, confident and smiling, though his great height (I'm not an excellent judge, but he seemed to be approaching 7'!) and rather lean build gave the impression of gawkiness, which made him look younger than his age. However, once he sat down and started playing Sergei Prokofiev's 'Piano Concerto No. 3 in C', one forgot all about his appearance of awkwardness, and could only gaze in awe at the way his sinewy hands flew across the keys.

M Tiberghien displayed an incredible lightness of touch in the wilder passages: sometimes playing with one hand on the black keys and the other on the white, skimming up and down in parallel; sometimes using crossovers, as his hands danced and dipped like a couple performing a particularly complex tango. (I must say, Prokofiev's concerto looks like a fiendishly difficult, but at the same time incredibly fun, piece to play). Such bravura rather contrasted with his more introspective playing. In such moments, he became intensely focused; his nose would be mere inches away from the ivories. He picked out the slinky melody at the start of the final movement with humorously exaggerated care, as if he were privy to a quiet joke Prokofiev had written into the score. Clearly, the man's a natural performer; he knew his stuff, all right.

After the enthusiastic applause at the end of the concerto, he did two solo encores (Hong Kong audiences never feel that they're getting their money's worth without the freebies at the end). The first was Claude Debussy's lively 'Feux d'Artifice' ('Fireworks'), a crowd-pleaser that is probably often used as, although not written specifically for, 'encore music'. The second was a reflective piece he didn't name (I suspect another Debussy Prélude), but essentially gave the message: 'I really appreciate your applause, and you've been a great audience; but I'm getting a bit tired now, so this will be the last encore - how about a quiet little piece to calm you all down?' (A useful ruse, which Emilie Simon also used in her show.) Crowd-calmer though it was, the music was beautiful. After playing its very last note, he held his pose like a statue while the audience held its collective breath; the silence was definitely palpable and the tension, almost unbearable. If he hadn't unfrozen when he did I might've burst into nervous laughter. The applause after this encore was still pretty loud, but by this time the lighting chaps must have decided that enough was enough, because they turned the house lights on.

So that was an evening well spent. You are perfectly welcome to share that concert with me, as I have actually found a live recording of it! Have fun...
http://www.rthk.org.hk/rthk/radio4/satconcert/20070526.html


Continuing with the French theme, I recently saw a film called 'Hors de Prix' ('Priceless'), a romantic comedy starring Audrey Tautou of 'Amélie' and 'The Da Vinci Code' fame. (This doesn't have anything to do with Le French May, but I thought I'd include it anyway.) Audrey plays the charming Irène, a glamorous 'gold-digger' who makes her living by swanning around the luxurious bars and hotels along the French Riviera, and chatting up millionaires - not entirely unlike the character played by a different Audrey some 45 years ago. Enter the barman, Jean, whom she mistakes for a millionaire. They have a couple of brief romantic encounters, but it isn't long before she sees through his pretence in the most embarrassing manner possible. As far as getting the girl goes, things start to look pretty grim for Jean, until he somehow winds up in the position of 'kept man' to a wealthy widow. Soon he has Irène - who now considers him as her equal - interested enough to start giving him expert tips on how to wring the most out of his rich patroness. While the film might be considered 'unrealistic' by some, as it plays down the emotional pain caused by the numerous break-ups that occur in the film, it does manage to avoid becoming overly sentimental in doing so. The result is a film that is more 'comedy' than 'romantic', and even my friend who doesn't usually watch 'rom-coms' thought it was very funny. 'Priceless' is highly suitable for comedy film buffs, fans of Audrey Tautou, Francophiles, and general aspirants to the high life (the list of designer brands in the credits is as long as your arm).

Picture taken from http://www.goldenharvest.com

I also seem to have written a blog entry as long as your arm (well, as long as someone's arm), so this will be as good a point as any to sign off. Until next time, au revoir, mes chers!

Not exactly picturesque

Current mood: Photographic
Current music: Zilch

After the stupendous verbosity of my last entry, I have decided that words have become a bit too much for my loyal but stunned readership and so, as a little light relief, I shall focus on the visual rather than the textual element this time. The infuriating process of uploading all of the pictures below will probably drive me insane, but I suppose one has to sacrifice for the sake of art.

The underlying theme connecting these photos (all of which, I am proud to say, I took myself - no borrowing off someone else's site, for a change!) is 'Local Oddities'. Well, except for the last two pictures. Those photos feature cats, which are generally a little mysterious, but aren't unusual enough to be considered 'oddities'. I just happen to be particularly pleased with the results. Anyway, here goes!

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Candles don't get dribbly by themselves; they require several days' effort from skilled candle dribblers to achieve the desired effect. You'd know this already if you're an avid reader of Terry Pratchett; but here is solid proof...


A little-known botanical fact: CDs grow on the SongSong Tree.

This is truly bizarre. There is in this city a little public park, where old water bottles covered with flypaper have been attached to some half a dozen trees. Flypaper in an open green space? What? Once I actually came across a couple of park attendants in the act of putting up new flypaper. I couldn't resist asking them why. 'To protect the public,' came the reply, 'by trapping mosquitoes and other insects.' 'Ah!' I said, as if the answer explained all, and took my leave. I tactfully refrained from asking further, probing questions, such as: 'What makes you think that your actions will have any substantial effect, given that this is all outdoors? Mosquitoes tend to hang around animals rather than trees, don't they? Why are only these trees flypapered, and not all the rest of the trees in the park?' And so on.

One has to wonder who dreams up these ideas in the first place.


Not far from the little park with the flypapered trees, I solved the mystery of where road signs go when they die. They all come here... to the [significant pause] Signpost Graveyard.

A thing that says exactly what it is. Fair enough.

In a little spotlit niche set into the wall of a public lavatory, I found this shiny metallic piece of what can only be called 'Toilet Art'.


I like going to the theatre. It's a nice, cultural sort of way to spend an evening. But I always thought that dancers had homes to go to after the show. This is not, apparently, the case. I never realised, until I saw this, that they actually keep dancers in a box in the theatre.

I'm not even going to ask what they put in the box next to it...


Go and find your own park bench! These seats have all been taken. By two-dimensional people.


In an effort to prevent avian flu, we are starting to replace all real birds with two-dimensional bird models made out of wooden boards. These come with extra benefits: they don't eat, they don't damage trees and flowers by building nests in them, and they certainly don't drop 'messages' from the sky...


It's amazing what people would do for the sake of advertising, isn't it? They've put a giant crab on the top of this taxi. I wouldn't recommend taking this cab in case the crab cracks open the top of the vehicle like a tin can and snaps its pincers at you.


Don't worry, says the driver - I can parallel park, so be happy...


I am aware that not everyone in the world has read 'Good Omens' by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. This is a shame. However, I can recommend this book on the basis that it is bound to be one of the funniest books on the Armageddon you'll ever read. Just to give you the main idea: According to the Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, the world will end next Saturday - just after tea, in fact. Aziraphale ('an Angel, and part-time rare-book dealer') and Crowley (a demon or, more precisely, 'an Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards') are going against the orders of Heaven and Hell, and are trying to stop this from happening. They have to find and kill the Antichrist - who happens to be a highly imaginative 11-year-old boy, who really cares about the environment... You'll have to read the book to find out what happens. Anyway, in the book, Crowley - a swish, sunglasses-wearing, gadget-loving type of demon - is said to own a sleek black 1926 Bentley. I figure that if he ever decided to get himself a Mercedes, he may well get himself something like the one in the photo. Note the triple-six number plate...


Wandering about on one of the islands one afternoon, I met an energetic black-and-white cat which managed to leap, in a few quick, successive bounds, all the way from embankment level to beach level, and then back up again. The embankment was a good few metres high, and it didn't look possible to jump, but the cat achieved it all the same. I managed to take this rather serendipitous shot just as the cat started making its first ascending leap. And just so you know - of course our heroic cat made it to the step!

Later that evening I came across a bunch of feral cats. A cat-loving chap was offering them a bite to eat - McWings, from the looks of it - and trying to lure them close enough to give them a pat on the head. Being a bit on the wild side, the cats declined to be stroked like a pampered puss, but were nevertheless not about to turn down a free snack, and swarmed towards the food. I took this beautifully eerie picture, not in the moonlight, but in the light of someone else's camera flash - a rather lucky snapshot, as an identical tableau using the flash from my own camera just didn't get the same feel...

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That's all for now, folks. Hope you liked them!

... And twenty answers

Current mood: Answering back
Current music: (Super) Duper Sessions by Sondre Lerche

Tah-daah! Edsters and I have now finished writing the answers to the interview questions in the last post. I shall now present them here in all their monochromatic glory.

Just a note before I begin, though - although most of these questions have only one answer, some of them have two - one by me, the other by my friend - whenever our views diverge or when we feel we ought to give both sides of an argument. A bit of variety is always good.

And remember, these are only possible answers... There might be better ones somewhere out there in the multiverse... But it's your job to find them!

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20 Weird Interview Questions

By Edsters & Aureala

BRAND NEW EDITION!
Now with added answer key for easy candidate assessment!

Work Attitude

1. Would you be happy working in an office where the sanity of your colleagues cannot be guaranteed?

~ I didn't realise that there was any other alternative.

2. If it takes five people to write five reports in five days, how many hours of overtime are you willing to work in order to do all five reports in one day?

~ Would that be 'one day' as in, say, Monday, or 'one day' as in 24 hours, which could be spread over the course of three working days? In the case of the former, I'd outsource. In the case of the latter, I'd still outsource, but hire fewer helpers. As far as overtime goes, that would depend entirely on the rate you pay me.

3. When dealing with difficult situations at work, would you say that you take on a role more akin to that of a duck-billed platypus or a ring-tailed lemur? Why?

~ Aureala: A duck-billed platypus. I would try and see the viewpoint of both parties, and weigh the pros and cons of each available solution. The platypus has obviously tried weighing the advantages and the disadvantages of being a bird and a mammal, and living on land or in water, and settled for the bits it liked best.

~ Edsters: A ring-tailed lemur. With my boundless enthusiasm, clear vision, and ability to look sideways at a problem (lemurs being well-known for their tendency to run sideways whilst on the ground), I'd soon come up with a solution which would be acceptable to all concerned. Plus, if anyone disagreed with me, I could mesmerise them with my stripy tail.

4. We're concerned that you only want this job to earn money, gain valuable work experience, and offer us the benefit of your skills and expertise. What can you say to prove us wrong?

~ To be perfectly frank sir, I only applied because one of my potential co-workers is really rather cute.

5. What do you consider to be your Unique Selling Proposition (USP), and what benefits do you think our company will gain from owning you?

~ My unique selling proposition is of course my native wit. As far as 'owning' me goes, I refuse to sell my soul to the Devil, or to anyone else, so if a contract of that nature is involved I shall withdraw from offering your company any benefits whatsoever.

6. Do you consider that you usually take a proactive approach to your work? So why are you sitting here waiting for us to offer you a job?

~ (1) No. (2) See above.

7. What is it about working that appeals to you, rather than, say, running away to sea, or starting your own island nation in the South Pacific?

~ Seasickness, alas, is my unfortunate malady. Even the thought of being surrounded by the sea makes me seasick. So any line of work which does not involve the sea appeals to me tremendously.

8. Do you pick out mistakes on restaurant menus? If so, how might your pedantry affect your future performance at our company? If not, to what cause do you attribute your deplorable deficiency in your powers of observation, and what are you going to do about it?

~ Actually I find that I pick out mistakes on restaurant menus all the time; or rather, on one restaurant menu in particular. There's an Italian restaurant on my road with a large blackboard outside announcing the day's specials, and not only do they get a lot of the English words wrong, but some of the Italian ones as well! The best mistake ever was their advertisement for a specially priced 'three-curse menu'. As an avid reader of the Harry Potter books, I decided not to sample this, just in case it wasn't a mistake and they were planning to administer the three unforgivable curses for dinner. How would my pedantry affect my future performance? Well, as you can see, I'm very skilled at spotting the presence of dark magic, and I hardly need to tell you how valuable an asset that could be. Have you even considered how you would protect your company against magical attack? No, I thought not - I find it's a bit of a blind spot with most employers.

Personality Questions

9. If you were a biscuit, what kind of biscuit would you be?

~ Aureala: If I were a biscuit then I'd be... well, not a biscuit at all, but a Jaffa Cake*. Partly because it's sweet and likeable, with a bit of a soft heart - not unlike me - and partly because I'm a bit of a rebel and if I were told to be a biscuit then I would be one that looked like a biscuit but wasn't one really.

* Jaffa Cakes are officially cakes, not biscuits. There was some lawsuit about it, due to a difference in the way biscuits and cakes are taxed. Like cakes, Jaffa Cakes turn hard when they are stale, whereas biscuits go soggy. It might also interest you to know that the orange-coloured jelly inside each Jaffa Cake is not orange-related at all, but is in fact apricot jam... Hence the careful wording on the package, 'orangey bits' as opposed to just 'orange bits'.

~ Edsters: I'd be some kind of cookie. I'd have chocolate chips and hazelnuts and possibly a few pieces of ginger as well, which would represent all the different aspects of my character. But I think I might be a chocolate-covered cookie, so none of these things would be obvious on the surface. As a chocolate-covered cookie, all my 'hidden edges' would be safely concealed under a sweet and unassuming exterior.

Note to the reader: Edsters has a long history of unexpectedly making rather cutting remarks, a trait which has been referred to as his 'hidden edges' on more than one occasion, by different people. Our resident psychiatrist's analysis on Edsters' cookie components are as follows:
1. Chocolate chips - because he's sweet on the inside, too
2. Ginger - a hidden hint of sharpness for his surprisingly biting remarks
3. Hazelnuts - because frankly he is a little bit nutty, a personality trait he shares with Aureala, which is all well and good

10. Are you now, or have you ever been, the kind of person to move someone else's cheese? How do you justify your behaviour?

~ I would never move someone else's cheese unless I felt its location presented a genuine obstacle - either literal or metaphorical - to the achievement of my company's operational goals. Of course, in the first instance I would use my skills of persuasion to encourage the owner of the cheese to move it without any further intervention from me, but if they persistently failed to do so, I would consider myself obliged to take decisive action and move it myself.

11. What's the one thing about you that you really wouldn't want us to know?

~ I get a terrible, terrible desire to hit interviewers who ask ridiculous questions in a pathetic attempt to wind me up.

12. If your house were on fire, what's the first thing you'd take out, and why? How can you prove that your answer is your true one and not, say, something carefully thought up so that we would think you had a nice, well-balanced personality?

~ I'd take out home insurance, specifically one that covered damage by fire. That way, when I returned home, I would be shocked and horrified by the damage that had been caused, but still feel lucky that (1) I'm alive, and (2) I had taken out insurance just in time, and would therefore receive a huge wad of cash from the insurance company. Incidentally, given the frankness of my answer, you can be pretty sure that I'm not just saying what you want to hear and pandering to your wishes.

Thinking Outside the Box

13. What did the ugly duckling say to the rubber duck?

~ Quack quack-quack quack-quack quack quack-quack quack quack quack quack quack quack-quack quack-quack quack quack-quack quack-quack quack quack-quack-quack quack-quack.
(Translation: It doesn't matter how perfect you look if you can never enjoy a moment's delight in savouring breadcrumbs.)

14. Please describe your employment history in a witty allegorical tale involving characters drawn from Aesop's fables.

~ Aureala: I am rather like the grapes in the fable, 'The Fox and the Grapes'. I might be sweet or I might be sour, but you'll only find out if you manage to get me... I'm very much in demand, you know. The question really is: Are you like the fox?

~ Edsters: I once saw a crow with a piece of cheese, at a time when there was a severe shortage of cheese in the business community. Seeing that the crow was prone to flattery, and too ignorant to realise the value of cheese as a motivational business tool, I persuaded it to sing, thereby moving its cheese out of its beak and into my waiting jaws. I must stress that I only did so as a result of the severe shortage of cheese at the time, which presented an obstacle to the achievement of my company's operational goals (see Question 10).

15. Please give three examples of times when you've used your interpersonal skills to settle a major international conflict.

~ (1) I once settled an argument between Aunt Leticia and Aunt Betty on 'What You Said About Our Gemma' and thus prevented World War Three.
(2) I called up David Letterman, Oprah and Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes Plus to do a special report on George Dubya's shady side. As a result, his popularity ratings have gone way down and his prospects for the next election are abysmal. By doing this, I have prevented World War Three.
(3) If you don't stop asking me these stupid questions I fully intend to start World War Three. However, I shall simultaneously prevent World War Three by calming myself down and counting to 100. In five different languages.

16. We like employees who are prepared for any eventuality. What would your plan of action be if a massive comet - similar to the putative comet that wiped out the dinosaurs - slammed into the Earth one Tuesday afternoon, two days before a major deadline?

~ I would immediately liquidate the company, and use the cash gained to build an enormous shelter for all of the company's employees and their families. The shelter would be all-inclusive, and of course contains a lifetime's supply of food*, running water, heating, drinks - hmm, make that a bar and Internet cafe, a night-club (resident DJ and live band included), a gym, a swimming pool, and a park. In fact, as this eventuality requires so much preparation, I would recommend the company be liquidated immediately as it is only a matter of time before the comet strikes. As far as the 'deadline' goes - well, if you don't follow my advice about building the shelter, you'd be 'dead' anyway.

* Of course, if you run out of food, you die. Hence, 'a lifetime's supply of food'.

17. It is a strange, but true, fact that 'Elvis' is an anagram of 'lives'. Describe your closest encounter with the King of Rock and Roll, and state your theory as to his current whereabouts. Please be warned that the management is firm in the belief that Elvis lives, and that any mention of the words 'death', 'died', 'deceased' or 'graveyard' in concurrence with the King will result in your immediately being shot. Sorry, did I say shot? I meant fired. Only I haven't hired you yet. OK, shot it is.

~ It's funny you should ask this, because I actually saw the King only about a week ago. I was on the way to my local Sainsbury's, thinking I would go when it was quiet during the graveyar - sorry, the night shift - and as I went down the street I saw him walking towards me, wearing gold-framed sunglasses and carrying two bags of shopping from the aforementioned supermarket. It was one of those awkward situations where I tried to pass him on his left, and he tried to pass me on my right, so we both ended up going to the same side of the pavement and neither of us showed any sign of giving way. I finally got past him on the side I'd intended, but he gave me a really black look, when it was his fault all along, as I'd started moving to that side of the pavement long before he did! So unfortunately Elvis does live, and is causing much irritation to innocent law-abiding pedestrians. However, since it appears that he lives near me and goes to the same supermarket, you'll be able to get regular updates on his whereabouts if you give me a job.

18. Can you recite the whole of 'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers' backwards, and repeat it three times?

~ Yes. (Turns around) Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers...

Metaphysical Conundrums

19. What did you do with the peanut?

~ Are you referring to the peanut currently lodged in the external end of your left ear canal?

20. Do you think these questions are leading anywhere?

~ I was hoping that they would eventually lead to your hiring me, but I am beginning to wonder if this is in fact the case.

Bonus Question:
Are You Paying Attention?

21. I have in my lunchbox the following: an ostrich egg and watercress sandwich made with pumperhumperdumpernickel bread; a cup of Nearly Instant Tomato Potato Soup; a multigrain, multiberry muffin; a packet of Oreos from the Dawn of Time; a banana with 'a.m.' written on it (for my Mid-Morning Banana Break); another banana with 'p.m.' written on it (for my Late Luncheon Banana Break); three cream crackers escorted by a scantily decorated tub of cream cheese; and a Warbly Marbly Black 'n' White ChocoBar. Please estimate the precise calorific value of my lunchbox (excluding its contents), to the nearest 0.001 of a kilocalorie.

~ The lunchbox is assumed to be of the smallish, plastic variety.

Typical heat of combustion of plastic = 18,000 BTUs/lb = 4,538.95921 kCal/lb
Approximate weight of lunchbox = 4 oz = 0.25 lbs
Therefore, calorific value of lunchbox = 4,538.95921 x 0.25 = 1,134.7398025 kCal = 1,134.740 kCal (to the nearest 0.001 of a kilocalorie)

So there.

Note to the reader: As the value I procured for the 'typical heat of combustion of plastic' was in BTUs/lb, I was unfortunately forced to use imperial units for the above calculation. In an age of standardisation, when everyone uses metric (well, except Americans I guess), this irks me greatly. If you are clever enough to redo the calculation using metric units, and still manage to come out with a result in kilocalories, please let me know!

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Wasn't that nice? Now you can all go out to your job interviews, armed with the knowledge that whatever damn fool questions they throw at you, there's always a comeback line...

Twenty questions

Current mood: Questioning
Current music: Sweet jazz tunes by my friend Reinis - check out his MySpace site
Proverb of the day: Great minds think alike

How now, dear readers! Your humble blogger has not been sitting idly by since Christmas, despite the fact that I couldn't afford to go anywhere, both money-wise and time-wise. I have been keeping myself busy. And no, I don't just mean the post-Christmas shopping spree - although I would like to add, as a postscript to the last entry, that I have now acquired a nice pair of high-heeled long boots, which I am wearing right now. Like a good girl, I waited until after Christmas, and thus got the boots at a very reasonable price. Bargain!

Anyway, I am not here today to discuss boots of any length, or indeed at any length. No, what I have been working on since the last entry, with the help of a friend, is a list of interview questions. 'Interview questions?' I hear you cry. 'Who gives a toss about interview questions? What place have they in a light-hearted, gleefully irreverent blog?'

Don't worry, I fully intend to continue in the 'gleefully irreverent' vein. Some time ago, my friend Edsters mentioned that he had been drafted into an interview panel, to interview some unfortunate newbie for his organisation. He toyed with the idea of asking funny interview questions, although History relates that what he actually asked were normal, mundane, proper job-related questions. You can imagine my disappointment. So, in order to prevent the tragic loss of such a marvellous opportunity in the future, we have compiled a list of twenty Weird Interview Questions - little gems to be posed to job candidates at recruitment interviews. You are welcome to use these should you ever be in a position to interview potential employees, although (1) please ask us first, and (2) tell us what the outcome is. We would very much like to know.

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20 Weird Interview Questions

By Edsters & Aureala


Picture taken from: http://www.youthjobs.ca/FireworksImages/Interviewer.jpg

Work Attitude

1. Would you be happy working in an office where the sanity of your colleagues cannot be guaranteed?

2. If it takes five people to write five reports in five days, how many hours of overtime are you willing to work in order to do all five reports in one day?

3. When dealing with difficult situations at work, would you say that you take on a role more akin to that of a duck-billed platypus or a ring-tailed lemur? Why?

4. We're concerned that you only want this job to earn money, gain valuable work experience, and offer us the benefit of your skills and expertise. What can you say to prove us wrong?

5. What do you consider to be your Unique Selling Proposition (USP), and what benefits do you think our company will gain from owning you?

6. Do you consider that you usually take a proactive approach to your work? So why are you sitting here waiting for us to offer you a job?

7. What is it about working that appeals to you, rather than, say, running away to sea, or starting your own island nation in the South Pacific?

8. Do you pick out mistakes on restaurant menus? If so, how might your pedantry affect your future performance at our company? If not, to what cause do you attribute your deplorable deficiency in your powers of observation, and what are you going to do about it?

Personality Questions

9. If you were a biscuit, what kind of biscuit would you be?

10. Are you now, or have you ever been, the kind of person to move someone else's cheese? How do you justify your behaviour?

11. What's the one thing about you that you really wouldn't want us to know?

12. If your house were on fire, what's the first thing you'd take out, and why? How can you prove that your answer is your true one and not, say, something carefully thought up so that we would think you had a nice, well-balanced personality?

Thinking Outside the Box

13. What did the ugly duckling say to the rubber duck?

14. Please describe your employment history in a witty allegorical tale involving characters drawn from Aesop's fables.

15. Please give three examples of times when you've used your interpersonal skills to settle a major international conflict.

16. We like employees who are prepared for any eventuality. What would your plan of action be if a massive comet - similar to the putative comet that wiped out the dinosaurs - slammed into the Earth one Tuesday afternoon, two days before a major deadline?

17. It is a strange, but true, fact that 'Elvis' is an anagram of 'lives'. Describe your closest encounter with the King of Rock and Roll, and state your theory as to his current whereabouts. Please be warned that the management is firm in the belief that Elvis lives, and that any mention of the words 'death', 'died', 'deceased' or 'graveyard' in concurrence with the King will result in your immediately being shot. Sorry, did I say shot? I meant fired. Only I haven't hired you yet. OK, shot it is.

18. Can you recite the whole of 'Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers' backwards, and repeat it three times?

Metaphysical Conundrums

19. What did you do with the peanut?

20. Do you think these questions are leading anywhere?

And finally, because any list of 20 questions always comes with a bonus question:

Are You Paying Attention?

21. I have in my lunchbox the following: an ostrich egg and watercress sandwich made with pumperhumperdumpernickel bread; a cup of Nearly Instant Tomato Potato Soup; a multigrain, multiberry muffin; a packet of Oreos from the Dawn of Time; a banana with 'a.m.' written on it (for my Mid-Morning Banana Break); another banana with 'p.m.' written on it (for my Late Luncheon Banana Break); three cream crackers escorted by a scantily decorated tub of cream cheese; and a Warbly Marbly Black 'n' White ChocoBar. Please estimate the precise calorific value of my lunchbox (excluding its contents), to the nearest 0.001 of a kilocalorie.

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Well, I hope you enjoyed that, and found it very useful / informative / entertaining (circle all those that apply). Edsters and I are slowly compiling a list of possible answers to these rather tricky, or even sticky, questions. These will be posted in a later entry. In the meantime, please feel free to think up your own solutions and pop them in the comments box. Your suggestions will be much appreciated by the management.