First Scumbag: Don't you talk to me like that, you lying bastard.

(He hits the second scumbag and a fight starts.)

Second Scumbag: You bleeding pig. You're not fit to be at the Archives.

First Scumbag: Typical bleeding Rhondda, isn't it. You think you're so bloody clever.

(They writhe around on the street pummeling each other. A <police officer> comes in.)

Police officer: You bloody fighting again. Break it up or I'll put this club through your head. Now what's it all about?

First Scumbag: He started it.

Second Scumbag: Oh, you bleeding pig, you started it.

Police officer: I don't care who bloody started it. What's it about?

Second Scumbag: Well ... he said the bloody Treaty of Utrecht was 1713.

First Scumbag: So it bloody is.

Second Scumbag: No it bloody isn't. It wasn't ratified 'til February 17 14.

First Scumbag: He's bluffing. You're mind's gone, Jenkins. You're rubbish.

Police officer: He's right, Jenkins. It was ratified September 1713. The whole bloody Archives know that. Look in Trevelyan, page 468.

Third Scumbag: He's thinking of the Treaty of bloody Westphalia.

Second Scumbag: Are you saying I don't know the difference between the War of the bloody Spanish Succession and the Thirty bloody Years War?

Third Scumbag: You don't know the difference between the Battle of Borodino and a tiger's bum.

(They start to fight.)

Police officer: Break it up, break it up. (he hits them with his club) I'm sick of all this bloody fighting. If it's not the bloody Treaty of Utrecht it's the bloody binomial theorem. This isn't the senior common room at All Souls, it's the bloody Archives.

(A fourth scumbag runs up.)

Fourth Scumbag: Hey, gaffer, can you settle something? <Morgan> here says you find the abacus between the triglyphs in the frieze section of the entablature of classical Greek Doric temples.

Police officer: You bloody fool, <Morgan>, that's the metope. The abacus is between the architrave and the aechinus in the capital.

<Morgan>: You stinking liar.

(Another fight breaks out. A management man arrives carried in sedan chair by two black flunkies. He wears a colonial governor's helmet and a large sign reading frightfully important. All the scumbags prostrate themselves on the street.)

Police officer: Oh, most magnificent and merciful majesty, master of the universe, protector of the meek, whose nose we are not worthy to pick and whose very faeces are an untrammelled delight, and whose peacocks keep us awake all hours of the night with their noisy lovemaking, we beseech thee, tell thy humble servants the name of the section between the triglyphs in the frieze section of a classical Doric entablature.

Management Man: No idea. Sorry.

Police officer: Right. Everybody out.

<Once he played 17.Bf2, I thought your counter play was quite splendid, for a Londoner, although I'd have thought <22...0-0-0> might have been a bit better than <22...Nd7>>

As I've said before, I only tend to really understand a game I'm playing if I'm up against the wall. By having to stare deep into the abyss, you're more atuned to the pitfalls and rat traps than if you're cruising along in a winning position. I agree wholeheartedly that <when you're in a mode of operation, it's difficult to shift gears when the fortune changes for better or worse> but I figure that in any one game fortunes *are* bound to change -- and I find it far easier (and less stressful) going from a dodgy position to an equal or winning one.

<When he played <26.Ne2>, you understandably biffed his rook with <26...Kg8>. But if you take the rook with <26...Rxh7 27.Qxh7> instead, then his queen at h7 is about as useful as a tit on a bull, allowing you to charge off with <27...Qb5 28.Nc3 Qf1+ 29.Nd1> which has to be at least equal.>

Yes, I like the look of 27...Qb5 a lot. Very nice - white hasn't got a single check!

<Can I ask why you didn't exchange rooks on the next move (<27..Rxh5> at least? It can't be healthy having so much heavy artillery around your King.>

I wanted to hold off exchanging rooks for as long as possible because I don't think it's something he can actually avoid, and I figured the longer he has his rook and queen lined up on the h-file the more convincing the chimera of an attack becomes. This is one the reasons why I played 22...Kf7 rather than 0-0-0 (something you also suggest) - it looks a bit mad, allowing Rh7+ shenanigans etc. It's all about thinking white has more than he actually does. It's nice for a boy to dream, eh.

<When you played <32...Qxf3>, did you overlook that he could win a piece with check?>

I had realised, and planned to play something else in the interim, and then, er, forgot. I told him quite cheerfully that 'I'd resign in a few moves' after this but then I suddenly realised how much life there might be in the position after 36...Kg6 and as such got interested in the bloody game again.

<Simply <39...Qg2!> (again!) threatening <40...Bg5> would have been more than enough to guarantee a draw>

Oh bollocks, you're right! I found ...Qg2 once (and was quite happy about it - that was the point behind ...Kg6, to be able to threaten ...Bg5) - why on earth couldn't I find it again? I suppose we all get excited when we smell meat - so often it turns out to be quorn.

<Your actual move <45...c5??> is I imagine why you would be giving yourself an uppercut and a few slaps upside your head.>

from <In Bruges>

Hitman one: "Let's go."

Hitman two: "My arse, let's go. They're filming midgets!"

Actually, I see myself as a comely cross between a young Shelley Winters (perhaps seven years old) and Charles Kuralt (before the road--and isn't there a "w" somewhere in his name; doesn't look like I spelled it correctly).

Yes, but as we must all bear our comely cross, I will strive to do so with a stiff upper lip (and not stub my stive--see <Red October's> place for details on this.

In case you were wondering--

Can't see it working. Unless his boss was Chief Super Paddy MacEnfawpie, feeling nostalgic. But the Paddies have moved on from navvying and law enforcement and are now into corporate takeovers.

BTW, I don't think the name McEnfawpie actually exists, but it should. The vast majority of 'Mac/Mc' names - especially the weird ones like McAnally - come from Northern Ireland (Norn'Iron to natives). Mac - sometimes shortened to Mc or M' - means 'son of'. (I think Maxwell was originally MacSwill).

Anyhoo, the real name McTaggart is an anglo form of Mac an tsagairt, 'son of the priest'. The slightly rarer name McEnaspie is Mac an Easpaigh, 'son of the bishop'. Logically, one would expect Mac an Phapa, son of the pope, to be anglicised to something like McEnfawpie.

There may be a whole undiscovered tribe of them on the shores of Lough Swilly, proudly exchanging genes together since Pope Adrian VI pulled in to repair his Poop Deck some centuries back. But if the secret gets out, 100-year-old firebrand Ian Paisley will stagger in there with a flamethrower. Does he expect celestial brownie points for doing the lord's work before he can be bothered doing it himself?

And one thing begat the other thing.

Mi casa seems to be your casa, which is cool. Just don't say "gob less" if I ever offer hospitality, is all.

With actual street beggars "gob less you" makes me want to take it back. I'd much rather hear "cheers mate, I'm halfway to a bag of smack now - or maybe I'll do some crack instead..."

I recall a game - kicked off as an Orangutan and headed deep into cryptozoology - where I suddenly visualized a deep combination, ending with mate in 17. I could see all its tendrils and branches leading to a forced win for me in every line.

This may be true, though I'd never have thought myself - Mr Flexitime - capable of it. But I lost two games in my last weekend tournament, both as white against 2050-2100-ish opposition. I don't lose much as white: in that rating range I'd normally expect a draw at least.

But here, in both, I turned a slight opening edge -- the kind of Catalan/Gruenfeld/Reti mishmash I'm normally happy with, into a loss simply by exchanging queens. In one case my opponent's bishop pair dominated, and the damage I'd done to his pawn structure was irrelevant; in the other, I chose a bad pawn-break, and walked my king into a hot zone. In both cases shedding pawns, control of key squares, and the game.

This confused me - I used to be good at queenless middlegames once, fancied myself a nice little Kramnik type. But here I was choosing a bad plan and then falling apart.

I think failure to be flexible is a big part of the trouble, as you suggest.

Frankly, I'm not surprised. It was *very* early in our relationship, which has since of course become ("Great heather-bleating hecatombs, Scotty -- beam me into the space mirror") so important, so spooky, so good, so deep and meaningless. You's practically my oldest friend now, apart mebbe from odd bods who only turn up at parties every decade or two, like me.

Anyhoo, early days. I still wondered if this impossibly perfect person was rilly two bald guys in Idaho. And you were still properly wary of males whose members do the talking. They're quite common, I'm told, and quite a nuisance to female persons trying to purl quietly on the knitterweb. Not that quietude was your thing.

So I called you "hon" -- just being friendly, hon, honest -- and you snapped primly back with "I prefer Jessica".

You were right. And I prefer Jessica too.

as ever,

g g g g r rg r gre
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takes you down to her place near the pyramid
you can see the sphinx going by
You can think about the Fatimid
Who will rule the Nile in future
When Islam has its Moment
And Saint Andy Warhol rises
For he can't bear not being present
When celebs are made from history
And time is made from nothing
And god makes room in cyberspace
For those who might be blushing

And you know that he's half crazy
Nothing else explains the cosmos
So you give the sphinx some water
And the ages flow across it
In your mind.

And you want to travel with
<rkej0w93r09

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And you want to travel shackled
For she's Frogspawn only Superstar
And the question must be tackled

And all the prophecies are true
And God has a sense of humour
And Frogspawn is a routine
For those who get a tumour
Watching Fox TV or Bush TV or any of the standard comic channels.

But
<rkej0w93r09

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Saves your sanity
For that you're deeply grateful
And
<rkej0w93r09

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is so beautiful
You can stand the world being hateful
in your mind.

[stand grovel Len-wards; he sez all the good stuff 1st, so I make do with the not-so-good stuff]

I don't. As it says somewhere in mine, I've never played either side of a Ruy Lopez in a halfway serious game. <Red> calls me a Spanish Virgin.

I've played pretty much everything else, though. I'm not sure if real Spanish Virgins get out so much.

What am I, some kinda biscuit? A biscotto? That takes the biscuit, so it does: a queer conundrum, by the hokey.

But the question <When you played <32...Qxf3>, did you overlook that he could win a piece with check?> is, I suspect, redundant. mack *encourages* people to take pieces with check. He sees it as a way of leading them on to perdition, or something.

Interestingly, white's 5.Qd2 does not have a great reputation. But the most common reply is ...Nf6, which of course runs counter to mack's opening principles. Pity the knight ended up on f6 anyway, though.

I thought the idea of ...Nc6 was to play it to d4, whenever tactically possible -- as in the Panno/Gufeld lines of the King's Indian - and then follow with ...c5. Maybe that was never an option here, but the retreat to e7 gives white a big space advantage.

Quite. More on attempting to win drawn games in the coming days.

<mack *encourages* people to take pieces with check. He sees it as a way of leading them on to perdition, or something.>

Come now, I may be the chessical equivalent of a sub but I don't like getting squeezed in the balls and poked in the eye at the same time. Allowing Qf8+ was predominantly a slip in my time-space continuum.

<Interestingly, white's 5.Qd2 does not have a great reputation. But the most common reply is ...Nf6, which of course runs counter to mack's opening principles. Pity the knight ended up on f6 anyway, though.>

I haven't the foggiest what has a good reputation in any opening; please enlighten me! When did we drop off Brighton pier in terms of 'theory'? It's not that ...Nf6 in itself violates any principles, but when it takes place in front of an f-pawn it does. Pieces belong behind pawns, we all know that, especially ones which might bust the centre at any moment. ...Nh6-f7 is preferable, but ...Nf6 after f7-f5 is cool too.

<I thought the idea of ...Nc6 was to play it to d4, whenever tactically possible -- as in the Panno/Gufeld lines of the King's Indian - and then follow with ...c5. Maybe that was never an option here, but the retreat to e7 gives white a big space advantage.>

<The base of the pawn chain, eg, e4, is very attackable.>

I don't really know the theory in this line, but I checked the Fritz database and found that 5.Qe2 tended to be answered with ...Nf6 rather than ...e5. I haven't even looked at CG's infamous Opening Explorer - which is actually getting good as recent games are added at a rate of knots. Will dig further ...

Speaking of which.

<Oy! Stone Head! No, sorry, that's Zardoz, innit ... Oy! Stone Edge! No, he's in U2 ... Yo! Henge!!>

Henge, that is bloodily brilliant. Scumbags among the ruin of the system. That mythical British universe where one could call a policeman to solve stuff, eg crimes, theorems, mysteries.

At least it gave me a deep visceral understanding of timezones. I only had a sketchy idea of which part of the clock you lived in before.

I still can't work out what direction people mean when they talk of somebody being 'x hours ahead'. It can be taken either way, it seems to me.

Temporal aphasia, probably.

Anyway, it's lunchtime where you are, and I haven't gone to bed yet - though on some days I'd be just getting up. I think.

In an extremely annoying fashion, I've decided to answer a few of your posts only using <Genesis> lyrics written by <Peter Gabriel>.

<Domdaniel: <Mrs Smoot> -- <half-digested>>

"Paper late!"
Cried a voice from the crowd
Hmmm hmmm
Old man died
The note he left was signed Old Father Thames
It seems he's drowned...

Digesting England, by the pound

dum dum dee dee dum dum dum

<Anyway, it's lunchtime where you are, >

Dum dee dum dee dum five o'clock and it's time for lunch

There's always been Ethel..
And Mr. Lewis
Isn't it time that he was out on his own?

I knooooooooooooow what I like
and I Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike what I know

etc.

Second best? never.

Your version of Cohen's remarkable

<rkej0w93r09

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Is sublime, not just humorous. Not to mention complimentary to a Lady.

ONly a sainted few knew that it was pronounced "Suzanne" but in fact spelled

<rkej0w93r09

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who knew?

Well you I guess.

Speaking of the <Irish Film Board> and projects getting their money that turned out to have richly deserved it, a second viewing of <In Bruges> stood up more than OK--

It has an immortal line in it I posted in here and then it was Blasted by the anti-sex auto censor.

What an amazing movie-- Paralytically funny, successfully combining a realist and fabulist DIAGESIS (Nobody tells me how to spell not even the Dick Shun Arium)...

OK here is the line,

I'm going to use the word <kwak> in lieu of the actual verboten word.

Which refers to the "front lower naughty bits" of a girl.

<Hitman to Boss>:

"Harry... Let's face it... and I mean no disrespect. You're a mean kwak. You've always been a kwak, and in the future you'll always be a kwak. You'll probably have a bunch of kwak children.."

Heh.. I'd already seen the scene before but I spit up food all over my laptop nonetheless.

Bloody brilliant filmmaking- script, acting---

the inimitable yet huffy

<Raveloni 12345: an adolescent Odyssey> has disappeared.

Hopefully he turns out to have a sense of humor.

I suppose that it goes without saying one had better have a sense of humor if he/she is going to post in a place called <Frogspawn>.

I feel a little responsible here since I actually suggested he visit us-- although you seem to have handled it well already with your trademark "stern yet fairly unstern but still fair" fashion.

Did the "newbies" even bother to read it?

<Hopefully he turns out to have a sense of humor.> How difficult a thing to develop "from scratch", but I understand what you mean. Of course.

Sorta.

Roller coaster Niels is not exactly the picture perfect example... But I always fight back. (squeezing balls and poking eyes is "blissforme" )