Zeitung - Newspaper

Welcome to the first edition of Improvised German to English Writings in 2010! Don’t worry, it’s not going to be a piece full of horrid newspaper-related punnery - all that’s been forced into the next sentence more awkwardly than a morbidly obese chick into the back of a 1960’s Mini. Amazingly, it’s already generated some cross words from this blog’s sole observer: a Sue Dooku from Boston heralds this entry as “Broad sheeeit,” and goes on to state “where I from, tha’ how you pronounce tha’ brown stuff you push out of yo’ fanny.” Although being American she probably meant ‘bum’, but still, what a bitch. Anyway, you should be thankful that today’s first randomly selected German word ’Guttenberg’ was a proper noun and so wasn’t allowed, otherwise you’d be sifting your way through a textual mountain (via a similarly mixed metaphor) of Police Academy references until I’d have Motormouth-Jonesed your head in with a barrage of even worse stupid puns. Hightower.

Now long-term readers (if any exist besides Miss Dooku - I say ‘Miss’ as I’m certain no one could put up with her sheeeit long enough to put a ring on it) may recall Tageszeitung, (24/8/08) or Daily Newspaper, where I mentioned my pitiful reading record. Well, regretfully, not much has changed since then. In the past sixteen months I’ve probably finished about seven books and maybe half-read a further five. My friend Suze managed a thoroughly impressive 52 last year AND wrote really good, detailed reviews for each (Fenland Tales And Beyond) putting me thoroughly to shame. A New Year’s resolution to read more won‘t help, as ‘Stop binging on cookies’, ‘Curb the cynicism’ and ‘Fart less’ from last year actually had an adverse effect. In 2009 I stuffed more cookies in my mouth (and ate them), became even more nauseatingly cynical and managed to pass stronger and more frequent farts than ever before. So rather than risk a complete shutdown of book-based input by forming a doomed resolution, instead whenever idleness strikes I’ll simply keep repeating the mantra: 2 Hours Of The Jeremy Kyle Show Bad, 4 Hours Of George Orwell Novels Good. If that doesn’t sort me out, no other half-arsed way of ending today’s entry possibly will.