Geek powers......ACTIVATE! 2

Good day.

Me and my chums have been playing an online RPG together by the name of Guild Wars 2. As the name might suggest in this game people form Guilds in order to play together and strengthen each other. Our Guild is called Octobeards Revenge after our band in another game, Rock Band. Currently we are in the process of making a website to attract new members and as the resident scribe I have decided to pen a little lore to go on it. So without further delay here we have.... The Tale Of Captain Octobeard...

Nothing is known for sure about the origins of the Captain. Some say he was a Norn, as big and forbidding as a mountain. Others claim he was a Charr whose ferocity was unmatched by any beast. Still others suggest he was an asura with a sharp mind and a strong grasp of false perspective. Whatever the case all agree that he was the greatest Pirate Captain to ever live.

The Captain and his crew specialized in acquiring loot of the rare and forbidden kind and it was one such piece of booty that became his namesake... The Octobeard. He stole this bionic attachment from the vaults of the Asuran College of Dynamics and had it surgically attached to his chin. There it laid dormant, disguised as a beard, until he willed it into life and its eight tentacles unfurled. Each tentacle had a different tool, weapon or kind of magic built into it and with their power the Captain became all but unstoppable.

His other great treasure was his ship, built from sacred Sylvari trees and armoured with steel plates pillage from a thousand defeated Charr warships. Its figurhead was a solid gold statue of the Norn god Raven that Octobeard had torn from its shrine and in the bowels of the ship hummed an engine that enabled it to fly... another acquisition from the Captains visit to the Asura.

For decades Captain Octobeard and his ship ruled the skies, taking any plunder he desired. That was until the dragon awoke.

Arrogant from years of unending victories the Captain saw this creature as a trespasser in his sky. Armed with an array of fiendish artillery Octobeard intercepted Zaitans flight path and engaged him in a pitched battle. Explosions filled the air but despite everything the dragon emerged victorious and shattered the Captains prized ship into pieces.

Ever since that day Captain Octobeard has been missing and we, the survivors of his crew, have been searching for him and plotting our revenge on the Dragon.
We cannot do this alone and so we are now recuiting new crew members. Do you have what it takes? Do you like plunder, wenches and all the rum you can stomach?

Join our crew and all this and more will be yours.

Kagami 'The Vain' Reikon, Lore Wench.

Entry 4

Introduction

Good afternoon all. Once again I am afraid I must start my blog with an apology. It has been far too long since my last entry and for that I am truly, deeply sorry. I do have reasons and excuses however… you will find I always have an excuse… a Gentleman should always have a few stored just in case.

The first of the two is none other than life itself. I have recently started a new job and whilst I hate to admit it, this has taken up a lot of my time and even more of my energy. I know, I know… I should have my priorities straight and get on with the blog regardless of such silliness but you see I need the internet to update the blog at all. Because of this you will see that by getting a good job and earning money so I can afford the internet I am actually acting in the best interests of the blog and you, my loyal readers.

The second reason is slightly more elaborate. I actually stated writing this post on a Wednesday some weeks when I finally managed to steal a little time to do so. It was progressing smoothly and literary genius ran from my touch like gold from the hands of Midas. Unfortunately my time ran dry before I had finished and as I always do I saved the work in progress on my bronze Gentleman’s USB receptacle. My intention was to store it within my Gentleman’s vault, a huge elaborate affair guarded by a network of sensors and lasers as well as an Indiana Jones style puzzle and a trained attack walrus called Keith. Despite my best efforts disaster struck between my computer and the vault door. Godzilla, the giant dinosaur/lizard/creature of Japanese fame smashed through the roof of my home and gobbled up my USB receptacle before I could react. I prepared myself to leap into the belly of the beast and retrieve it but before I could do so a thousand tiny Godzilla clones appeared and ate the large Godzilla in a matter of minutes like a shoal of piranha. As if this wasn’t enough, the laws of quantum mechanics decided to get involved and all of the small lizard clones popped out of existence and were replaced with tree which produces pink, slightly erotic looking bananas.

All of these, completely truthful, events conspired to prevent me from getting this entry to you but they will not succeed… without further ado I give you…. ENTRY 4!

The Gentleman’s Handbook

I shall continue my one man quest to impart the ways of the Gentleman onto the new generation. This week we have a very important rule and one that you should definitely pay attention too.

Rule 4: If a lady asks you how old you think she is, or how old she looks, tread VERY carefully. Generally it’s best to avoid a realistic guess unless you know for certain what her age is… and even then she still may not thank you for reminding her of the reality. Really you have two possible options when faced with this crisis,

1) Guess younger than you think. This is the safest option and probably your best bet. Make sure not to go too far under though as you will run the risk of sounding like you’re trying too hard or purposefully just being nice to try and win the Lady’s affection, rather than actually thinking she is that age.

2) Guess way, way, way over what you think. And when I say over I mean something in the region of 6000 years old. This is a much riskier tactic but if you pull it off you can get a few extra points for being amusing. Women love a funny man after all.

Motivation: Again your main motivation here is keeping the Lady happy. It is also something that has a direct effect on the Ladies self-esteem. You should always remember that the more comfortable a lady is with how she looks naked the more likely she is to let you see.

Choose your own Adventure: Gentleman Style

Do you remember those books you used to have when you were younger…. Or maybe still read…. Where you got to choose the path of the main character. You know the ones I mean “If you want to follow the Knight into the Cave turn to page 23, If you want to do an interpretive dance turn to page 204”… that kind of thing.

Weren’t they awesome?

The correct answer of course is yes. In light of this revelation I have decided to do my own take on this idea. Every entry(ish) I will post a part of a fictional story with “The Gentleman” as the main character and at the end of each story fragment you, the readers will post comments telling me what the Gentleman should do next. A slight twist will be that I will also present the statistics of “The Gentleman” at the beginning of each fragment, much like the character sheet used in pen and paper roleplaying or video games with a roleplaying bent. If you find this part of the idea confusing don’t worry! Just completely ignore it and put what you want to happen in the comments and I will sort it out. So, here’s the character sheet of “The Gentleman” at the beginning of our story… with annotations to try and make it understandable to those who aren’t of the geeky persuasion.

Name: The Gentleman

Appearance
Age: Unknown
Height: 6’1”
Weight: 11 Stone
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Brown hair styled neatly with pomade, a large and elaborate moustache.

Vital Stats
Vigor: 50/100 (This is the overall health of the “The Gentleman”, it is reduced by fighting and other damaging actions and when it reaches 0 he will pass out or even die. It can be recovered by sleeping but may require medical attention if it goes too low. )

Vim: 50/100 (This is the energy of “The Gentleman”, it is used to perform attacks, defend himself and other special actions. When it reaches 0 he will become tired, lethargic and unable to perform anything other than the most basic of tasks. It can be recovered by resting.)

Combat Stats
(Using different weapons gives you a variety of attack and defence actions, all of which cost Vim. Currently “The Gentleman” has no weapons so he is unarmed and so won’t be that effective in a fight)

Current Weapon: None (Unarmed)

Attack Action, Fist of Gentlemanly Fury
You let your opponent know that the fury of a Gentleman is not something to be underestimated… even if he is empty handed

Vim Cost: 5 (Each use of this skill costs 5 Vim. If you use it too much “The Gentleman’s” Vim will reach 0 and he’ll be exhausted)

Chance of Success: 50% (Each attack and defence has a certain chance to work… I will roll a dice to determine success of failure)

Damage: 10 Vigour (On a success an attack will reduce the opponents Vital Statistics. In this case a successful hit you will reduce your opponents Vim by 10)

Defense Action, Would you like to Dance?
Hours at formal functions has honed the Gentleman’s dancing skills to the point where he can dance out of the way of blows as easily as dance his way into a Ladies heart.

Vim Cost: 5
Chance of Success: 50%
Damage Reduction: 5 Vigour (On a success a defence action will reduce the damage done by an enemies attack)

Special Actions
(Throughout our adventure the Gentleman will gain a number of abilities that aren’t for use in combat…they will be here)

Special Action, The Smoulder
You glance at a Lady and win her over with the pure animal magnetism in your stare.
Vim Cost: 10

Effect: If you use this on a Lady (or Gay Man) they will think much more favourably of you. The exact result changes depending on the situation and the Lady in question.

Gear
(Here I will just list the items the Gentleman is currently carrying… at the moment this is… nothing)
Nothing.

So there was the nerdy bit, here’s the creative bit.

To begin with The Gentleman felt nothing.

Swirling darkness and silence consumed his whole being and took over his every sense. His mind raced “How did I get here” and “Where is here?” These questions and more danced in his thoughts with their dance partners “Am I dead?” and “who am I?”
Slowly sensations crept back. The first was nausea and its tendrils spread all over his body. This was quickly followed by the warmth and chill of a hot flush and The Gentleman couldn’t tell if this was better or worse that the nausea that preceded it. Once both had settled over him his first sense of the world around him surfaced and in true British fashion it was a light drizzle. The icy rain was oddly refreshing as it covered his skin and helped to rouse him from his stupor. The moisture was accompanied by a chilling wind that tousled The Gentleman’s moustache and brought goosebumps out from head to foot. He couldn’t help but be reassured by these familiar sensations. After a few moments of this the realization that he must be naked dawned on The Gentleman and in a sudden rush of embarrassment he tried to open his eyes and sit up. He failed, at the slightest attempt of movement the nausea reared its head and forced him to remain still. Helpless panic threatened to overwhelm him as he realized he couldn’t move his body at all let alone open his eyelids. Anxiousness filled him and threatened to overwhelm the Gentleman. What if he was stuck like this? Why couldn’t he move? Maybe he really was dead?
The panic was quelled almost instantly and calm rushed through him as The Gentleman felt a soft pair of lips kiss him softly on the cheek and whisper into his ear “Come now, you don’t have time to be resting my love… you best get up and sort this mess out!”
With a start he sat bolt upright and opened his eyes. The Gentleman found himself in a grassy clearing flanked on one side by a brightly covered shanty town and on the other by a section on woodland. He rapidly realized that he was not alone and his dulled senses tuned in to and then became almost overwhelmed by a cacophony of sounds. By the shanty town were a group of a dozen or so eclectically dressed people. They wore hand knitted and patchwork clothes and their hair was unkempt and wild. At their head stood a tall proud woman whose mane of frizzy red hair framed her furious yet pretty face beautifully. Both she and her followers held makeshift weapons from baseball bats and pool cues to half bricks and dirty pitted blades.
Opposite these people were a group who seemed to be the very opposite of them. Roughly equal in number they wore finely pressed bulk issue suits and functional sunglasses that served to help make them all look the same. Their hair was uniformly short and they had standard issue pistols and truncheons. At the head of this crowd of uniformity was a person in a long high collared coat and black wide brimmed homburg hat.
The two opposing crowds seemed to be having a heated disagreement over the ownership of not only The Gentleman but the items scattered haphazardly around him. He continued to take in the scene and looked at the items in question. Laying on the floor all around the Gentleman’s naked form were an array of strange items. There were the following items

A fabulous Top Hat,
A lovely white velvet glove,
An elaborately engraved cane,
A polished and ornate gold pocket watch.
A glittering monocle,
A well used snuff box and
A fabulous burgundy cravat.

Bewildered by his current situation the Gentleman felt unsure what to do…
What should he do…
WHAT SHOULD HE DO!

So there, that’s the end of the first part of my choose your adventure. Below here is the comments section so put what you think the Gentleman should do and the choice with the most votes will decide the actions of our hero. I do reserve the right to pick an option which has less votes but is more interesting.

I look forward to your responses,

The Gentleman over and out.

Geek powers.... ACTIVATE! 1

When Im not at work, playing gigs or feeding my video game addiction I occasionally indulge myself in an even more 'geeky' pastime... Dungeons and Dragons.

If your unsure what D&D is then think of it like this: when you read a book it consists of a world and story created by the author. Inside this story they are invariably a number of characters who are the focus of the action. In D&D its like a book but each character is controlled by a different person, whilst one person plays the role of author or dungeon master and controls the world and the events occurring on it. the players tell the dungeon master what their character will do, and often roll a dice to determine if they succeed.

When I play D&D its with a group of my long term friends and the story we are currently playing casts us as a ragtag group of pirate/adventurers whose current focus is meeting some mysterious people called 'The Sealords'. The individual motivations to do so varies from character to character but the overarching goal is to use The Sealords to somehow prevent an ancient evil trapped in another dimension from escaping and destroying reality.

All of this is fine and dandy but, my character specifically, met with a slight problem last session.... by problem i mean Polar Bear and by slight I mean huge and deadly. due to this I have created a new character to join our group and take the place of my old one. I have written a little backstory for him and I thought it might be fun to post it here so here we go... The story of Gorgaron, Eater of Worlds.




We were just beasts, once.

That was until we ventured too far North.

The Northlands are a difficult place to live. Hunting is difficult and prey is scare. I was the Alpha male of the Pack and it was my role to keep the others fed and safe. Despite the challenge I was strong and wise and managed to keep us going. Unfortunately, in order to find our next meal we had to keep progressing further and further from the usual hotly contested hunting grounds of the lowlands and further towards the chaotic mountanous realm to the North.

Eventually our travels brought us to a clearing with a large stone statue at its centre. The statue depicted a bestial and forgotten god and both I and the pack felt drawn to it. Before I knew what I was doing I was bowing my muzzle to it and it spoke to us in the language of the beasts. "You are tired, you are hungry...fear not! I can grant you the strength to have more food than you can eat... All you must do is pledge yourself to me and all the worlds riches shall be yours."

As beasts we were stupid and naive... we did not even know the concept of lying or deceit. As one we howled our agreement and that was when the change came upon us. Pain wracked our bodies as bones broke and popped into new shapes. Muscles changed and swelled, filled with divine might and dark promises. Our howls became brutish shouts of pain and after a few hours of writhing pain I awoke to find my body was that of a humanoid beastman. All around me my pack were the same. We still had the fur, teeth and claws from our birth but now we were blessed with horns, legs, arms and thumbs that enabled us to make use of tools... and weapons!

The Forgotten God spoke to us in our minds, it named us the "Worldeaters" and we followed it's commands without a care. In a ferocious wave of claws and teeth we descended on village after village, killing humans and taking their food and treasures for our own. For years this continued... with our new forms and the weapons and armour we aquired hunting humans became far easier than when we had to work together as a pack to bring down a single elk.

Over time I soured to the killing... The concept of morality was sluggish in its entrance to my mind but once there it took hold and began to change me. Why were these human children any different to our cubs? Just because we could take more food than we could eat did that mean we should not leave some for others? These thoughts and other concerns began to fill my mind. It seemed that I was alone amongst my kin with regard to such worries. The rest of my pack were filled with bestial greed and rage and once all the humans were dead they turned on one another. The infighting was brutal. I tried to subdue them, both with words and blades I tried, but to no avail. The Worldeaters soon turned on one another and I could not help but be drawn into the conflict.

The fighting raged for days. Alliances formed and crumbled and trinkets changed bloody hands more times than could be counted. Throughout all this I stood in the centre of our camp howling for peace...but nobody listened. Instead, they attacked me. My own pack attacked me, their leader. It was with this act that they chose their fate. I will not go quietly into deaths embrace and I would not watch my once noble pack destroy itself in such a manner. My blades found them all. My prowess subdued each easily until as the sun rose on the fourth day I was surrounded by piles of my dead Worldeater brethren.

It shames me to admit it but I fled then. I could not comprehend what I had done and so I ran as far and fast as I could.

My cowardice brought me to a huge ruined human city. It was a place of war, as various factions vied over the magical meteorite at it's core. It wasn't long before I was coerced into helping a human warlock in his own pursuit of the meteor. Whilst I had mixed feelings about his motives he gave me piles of food and shiny discs for helping him. I had little use for the discs, but the food was good and most importantly his quest enabled me to encounter strong warriors. I did not yet know my purpose but I knew I needed to be strong and fighting others with power is the best way to increase your own. I clashed with foes of all races and professions... most noteably a human who smelt of blood and moved quicker than I would have thought possible as well as a short man made of stone and explosions. I learnt later that these were a Vampire and Dwarf... but all I knew then was their prowess helped mine to grow exponentially.

As always seems to happen this situation ended in carnage. Many factions arrived at the meteor at once and chaos reigned supreme. Through it all I could hear the voice of The Forgotten God in my mind laughing and relishing in the death.

It was at that point my purpose was born and I felt the warriors I was battling at the time could read it in my eyes. The Vampire, Dwarf and I were fighting in a stalemate at the centre of the battle around the meteor as it dawned on me. My foes stopped their assault for a moment as they witnessed my revelation. Without looking back I sheathed my weapons and set off at a run for the Northlands. They did not stop me and if I had been able to explain I feel they would have appreciated what I was going to do.

I would continue to get stronger, I would do whatever it would take.... and then I would track the Forgotten God whose promises ruined my life, my pack and kill him with my own hands.

The Worldeaters would be avenged and I, Gorgaron Worldeater, would kill a god to do it.

Lunchtime Illiteracy 2

Good day!

Lets try this new blog format and see how we get on shall we?

People who have read my blog previously will be aware of the infamous Twinx. For the uninitiated he he is a loathsome devilish creature who lives on the ground floor of the house share I live in. What I don't believe I've mentioned is that this house is actually four floors and in addition to me, Wool Girl and Twinx it is home to 3.5 other residents. I will endeavour to get to each in time but the person we will focus on today is from the second floor and she shall be know as RedEye. This is largely due to the fact she is perpetually drunk, stoned, hungover or some combination of those three. Normally she is easy to manage as her semi intoxicated state means she keeps herself to herself. This pattern broke at the weekend however.... RedEye threw a party.

Now, I am not adverse to parties.... I have infact been known to 'bust a move' and/or 'get jiggy' myself on occasion.... but one that lasts for almost 24 hours and is of a decibel level that it keeps the whole house awake is something I frown upon. In addition, the party was noteworthy as RedEye managed to get at least 11 people into her single room. When I imagine the logistics of this I cannot help but picture the party goers as a selection of tetris blocks in some sort of colourful retro game/orgy scenario.

The thought is troubling.

Furthermore, the caliber of guests seemed less than desirable. As with all the best observations I am basing this conclusion on one very brief encounter during day two of the shindig.

I wandered down to the little Gentlemans room and found it occupied. Whilst my need to 'drain the snake' was fairly urgent I felt I could wait a few moments at least. After sorting a few things in the kitchen I ventured back to check on the progress of Mr Toilet and thankfully the fellow in there came out just as I was returning. I instantly formed an opinion on this man and all his friends based on three things...

1) He was wearing sunglasses inside.

2) He was wearing sunglasses on the landing outside the bathroom which currently has no light and is dark even with regular glasses on.

3) It looked like he was finding walking hard, let alone muttering up a 'hello'

So too conclude RedEyes had a party that was too loud for too long and it involved too many knuckle draggers in a small space.

They didn't actually disturb my slumber because I essentially become a corpse every night... but they kept Wool Girl and the other housemates up all night. The question dear readers is this.... what do you do in that situation?

Answers on a post card.

The Gentleman, over and out.

lunchtime Illiteracy 1

Good day loyal readers. It has come to my attention that i have once again been neglecting you. Like a husband who ignores his wifes ample bosom to go to the public house and play darts i have been a terrible man. But no more!

Your metaphorical fun bags shall not remain unsqueezed!

You see the entries I have been writing have been getting more and more complex which is good because they are more interesting... But bad because they take longer to write.
The solution is clear. Lunchtime Illiteracy!
I will write mini entries when i have spare time during my lunch hour at work. I will limit these mini entries to a length that I can write and post in a single go.

Sound good? I thought so....

Entry 3

Introduction

I shall start this Entry with an apology, and then move on to a raft of excuses and reasons which will hopefully absolve me of any negative feedback.

My humblest and deepest apologies for not having posted for a little while. I am sure without the rejuvenating rain of my words the parched farmland of your life as cracked and dried. The succulent corn of your joy is no doubt sagging limply on its stalk…. But FEAR NOT! Like a rain dance your silent plea’s for The Gentleman’s candour has brought me back to soak you with a monsoon of eloquence.

With regards to the excuses, well… here we go. Believe it or not I have actually been working on a couple of items for the blog. Firstly I am wrist deep in a section about a board game I am creating. I realize this section won’t be for everyone, the proverbial marmite on the toast platter of my blog… but I believe for the people who ARE interested it will prove very entertaining. It’s also a great way for me to safely vent some of my overflowing geekery in a controlled manner…. We all know that when left unchecked the need to be geeky can rapidly get out of hand… even descending into… LARPing.

Excuse my French.

I am also working on a piece about the recent Beer Festival in Plymouth. I selflessly force myself to go there and quaff large quantities of alcohol, purely so I could write a review for this blog. Even more horrific was the mumbled and tuneless singing of Mr Geldof… but you will have to wait for this rant as well, a large section of what I plan to write about requires me to distil some information from a Dictaphone that was taken to the event… and as you can probably appreciate…the bits I need are obscured somewhat by the drunken, slurred tomfoolery.

My next and main excuse is that I have recently got a new job and had a lot of other things going on in my life. These have served to get in the way of me writing blog entries. Of course I could probably have written something instead of playing all those video games… but a life without an adequate amount of escapism is a life full of misery and drudgery.

Now I have got all that out the way… TO THE MEAT OF THE BLOG!

The Gentleman’s Handbook

As with every week I have a pearl of wisdom for all you aspiring gentlemen out there. Rule 3 follows and its words should be read and digested by any self-respecting male hoping to successfully woo a lady.

Rule 3: You should never ask a lady her age. With the growth of social media it’s easy enough to find this out without asking her directly, and let’s be honest, as long as her age is relatively close to yours it doesn’t really matter.

Motivation: If you ask a lady her age there are a number of possible outcomes, none of which are good.

1)      The Lady could lie to you. Whilst this is probably the best possible outcome there are a number of situations in which this is definitely not good. For example if the lady is much younger than she claims.

2)      The Lady could tell you the truth. This may seem like a good thing, but ladies are NEVER happy about their age and admitting to it is most likely to upset them. Remember, you should never make a lady sad.

3)      The Lady could refuse to tell you. This is much like number 2, but it may also result in the lady getting angry which is arguably even worse than if she was sad.

This all comes down to making sure the lady is happy, and remember! A happy lady is a horny lady!

Tales from the Life of a Gentleman

Last week I talked about my new abode and the unpleasant fellow who happened to live there with me and Wool Girl. Needless to say, my description of him was accurate, but not necessarily…friendly. As part of this section I ran a small vote on what should be used as his nickname.

As you can imagine thousands of votes were cast, and my Platoon of PA’s have spent the past week counting them and re-counting. At one point we constructed a giant vote counting robot, which inevitably went insane and could only be stopped by my patented FIST OF GENTLEMANLY FURY. After all this we finally got the result… and it was…..

……………….

…….

….

*Drum Roll*

…….

………..

………………..

TWINX.

Ok so that build up was probably excessive but, there we go… I’ve done it now and the delete key is for quitters.

So Twinx has been named and continues to be unpleasant. Recently he hasn’t been actually saying anything specific, to the extent that I believe he may have continued to devolve to the point where he has actually lost the power of human communication. These days all he does is hide whilst I’m around, and come up and huff and puff like a storybook wolf when Wool Girl ventures to the kitchen by herself.

Another moment of frustration occurred a few days ago when we had to pass through his dark domain on the way to the Pub. The whole floor of the building was filled with music from “Da Streetz” (My apologies if this is not the correct term… I must admit my knowledge of the sort of vernacular used to describe… terrible… music is somewhat limited). This music, associated with over-populated and under-funded sections of society seemed slightly alien amongst the middle class setting of the house in which I live… but still it was there and it was loud. Whilst this was unpleasant it wasn’t this that drew the most offence from me and Wool Girl. The focus of our ire was that it was coming from the living room (which is communal) and Twinx had felt it appropriate to place a tie on the door handle. Now as I’m sure, in addition to being the third most formal kind of neckwear, ties also serve to convey a very specific meaning when attached to door handles…. They mean that the room is currently occupied by one or more people engaged in some kind of erotic activity.

This series of events caused me frustration for a number of reasons:

1)      The Grotto (edit: sorry Ghetto) music was terrible… just… awful.

2)      That is a communal living area and should not be commandeered by someone like that. The only exception to that being if there was a specific event occurring which we had been made aware of and had agreed to…. this was no such event.

3)       Twinx is, to be blunt, incredibly unattractive. The sexual activity denoted by the door-tie couldn’t be indicating lovemaking with a nice, consenting woman…which means he is either

a.       Lying via the medium of neckware

b.      Having sex with someone who accepts cash. Whilst I am not adverse to prostitutes in the global sense… if he was really that hard done by he has a perfectly serviceable bedroom he could take the street walker into.

c.       Having sex with himself. Again he has a perfectly serviceable bedroom for that… and any mess made as a result of self-pleasuring is not something I want on any part of a communal living space….. urgh.

As I’m sure you can imagine this whole situation was very unpleasant… and I was wondering what you, my faithful readers, suggest I should do about this blaggard…Should I confront him directly about it? contact the landlord? Ignore him like the ignoble scum he is? or something else…

Answers on a postcard!

Farewell, for now…

That brings us to the end of today’s entry. Like I said I am working on a number of things to upload to this blog so expect the next few entries to be larger or at least more frequent, and remember…

Only a ginger can call another ginger ginger.  

Good Day to you, The Gentleman.

Entry 2

Introduction

Well here we are, contrary to the entropic nature of the universe my blog endures! It does so despite my recent relocation to the very apex of a four story building and the ongoing mental torment of a job that is not only unfulfilling, but also poorly paid and increasingly hard to reach.


But enough of my pointless melancholy. You came here to sup at the moist teat of my wisdom and so you shall! In a radical reversal I shall start today's blog with the very rant that served as the ending to the last!


The Gentleman's Handbook


As I mentioned last week, I am currently in the process of writing a book that will serve as a reference to the Modern Gentleman. It will serve not only to teach them the correct way to behave with a lady, but also motivations for following my advice. Last time we discussed the importance of carrying a ladies bags... this week we have rule 2, which addresses the need for a Gentleman to always offer a Lady protection from the elements. 

Rule 2: A Gentleman should always offer a lady his coat or umbrella if the weather turns moist. Let’s face it, we live in England and rain is a sure thing, so this is a rule you will probably have to observe a lot.

Motivation: While it is true that a lady who gets wet may suffer from clothes that become more revealing than she may have initially intended (especially if they are white), a true Modern Gentleman knows that if you exercise patience and give the lady your coat the reward in the end will be much more worthwhile. You see a cold, wet lady is most likely to go home, and if she doesn’t do that she will be much more interested in a nice warm tea than anything alcoholic. Conversely, a lady who is nice and warm is likely to take off some layers, possibly even all of them if she is drunk/warm enough.

Note: Whilst you may help your cause by making sure the heating is up nice and high in your house, remember not to overdo it.  A lady who is hot and sweaty before she reaches the bedroom is not your goal here.

Ho ho ho! I bet you didn't see that literary switcheroo coming! Now for something slightly different...


Help the Gentleman!


Last week I asked that people help me change my avatar to one more personalized and exciting. Since that time I have received lots of messages from people telling me that they like my current avatar. 


Well, let it not be said that The Gentleman neglects his readers! As requested I won't change it, for now... 


I would still like a personalized one at some point though, so if you are of the artistic persuasion and you'd like to help your favorite blogger out then I would urge you you submit your work to me!


Tales from the life of a Gentleman


As I alluded to in my introduction, I have recently moved abode from the flat I shared with the Great Wallace to a top floor flat with an altitude on par with Mount Olympus. I share these lodgings with a girl known affectionately as "Wool Girl" and she has quickly gone about spinning her nest of rainbow hued crochet and knitting all over the place.


Me and Wool Girl are not alone in this building. Living on the bottom floor is a large fellow who it seems has stalked these hallways for a long time. His presence is so fearsome that the houses other residents have yet to reveal themselves to me. I feel that it may be prudent to knock on each door with a bag full of sugar and try and coax the buildings other residents blinking into the light... but for now my attention has been drawn to the aforementioned portly chap. 


To draw a parallel with religion, if me and Wool Girl were God and our room the rolling clouds of heaven, this man would be Satan. His bottom floor is a dank, dirty place and his lair is secured by two padlocks in addition to the standard lock. I have attempted to create a rapport between him and myself but to no avail, he only seems interested in telling me to keep the kitchen clean (before I'd even used it once) and in telling me how much he disliked my rooms previous inhabitants. The lack of communication is so severe that I haven't even been able to learn his name. Due to this I thought it would be fun to assign him a name and who better than to help me with this task than you, the readers of my blog! I have narrowed the options to five possibilities


1) Adolf
2) Twinkle (or Twinx for short)
3) The Dark Lord
4) Mr Happy
5) Mr Sad


Please put your votes in the comments section below, or contact me directly. I will reveal the result on my next blog. 


Farewell, for now...


and so concludes my second blog. I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always feedback is always appreciated... so please don't hesitate to contact me via the comments section below to let me know what you think. 


For now I shall love you and leave you, but remember...


With great mustache comes great responsibility.


Yours Sincerely, The Gentleman.