Tuesday, May 17, 2005

Spanish oral... the final battle

I had my GCSE Spanish Oral yesterday. This raised an interesting moral question in my mind. How does one blog about a Spanish oral that went quite well without posting the world's most boring piece of donkeysemen ever? Well, the obvious answer would be don't, which I realised after thinking about this for an hour. But at that point I'd already made the damn pictures, and I'll be fucked if I'm going to put in the effort to make TWO amazing Photoshop piccies and then not stick em up on the blog for my HUGE fanbase to enjoy.

So, with no further ado I present My GCSE Spanish Oral, told in terms of an Arthurian Battle to the death

Our brave hero, Sir Me, saddled up his horse, Dogfood, and climbed up for the final time. His quest had been long and arduous. Having traversed the Marshes of Endless Revision Sheets, the Gorge of General Conversation Questions, the Forest of Tenses and even the Unholy Desert of Failed Mock, he was understandably exhausted, his manly faced criss crossed with scars of Revision, his muscles weaked from his battles with the forces of Practise Roleplays, his strength sapped by the Demons of Pre-Examination Nerves (a particulary nasty subset of demons who live in the pit of the stomach and cause havoc by hacking away at it with sharpened daggers).

But still, his Armour of General-Conversation-Repetition gleamed sparkily, his big fuckoff shield of Having-Done-The-Fucking-Presentation-4-Times-Before (made by the master craftsmen of Pointless-Names, coming from a small town in the middle of Are-My-Metaphors-Really-Obvious, on the mountains of I-Hope-This-Is-Funny-Cos-I'm-Already-Losing-Interest) was as strong as ever, and his horse, Dogfood, wasn't dead. He still had hope. In case you are unable to picture me as a knight, here's a picture I made:



(Not pictured: the horse. Neigh.)

Finally, he had reached his destination. The unholy den of the beast of Spanish Orals, known only as Senor Orallo (imagine that the N has a squiggly thing above it because I can't be fished to find out how to do it), a beast with the body of a matador (cleverly tieing it in with Spain), but the head of a fish (I don't like fish). A fire-breathing fish. And instead of hands, it had crab's claws. As personally, I think that crabs are fucking terrifying. Eugh. To make it even more evil, it also voted for the UKIP party and used to be Kilroy's lover, until Kilroy broke up with it for being too evil. So, yeah, evil.
Here's a picture:



The den of this beast? That room thats just down the corridor from the language resource centre. Dunno what it's called... yeah. On the way to this room, Dogfood died, so brave Sir Me sold it to a glue factory and had to carry on alone into the den. Ah, t'was a foul place, full of dead corpses and stationary. The reek of fear was rife, matched equally with the reek of paper. Sir Me's blood ran cold when he saw the stapler on the desk.
Suddenly, BAM. Senor Orallo attacked with a devastating blow, known to the mortals as the Roleplay Fist of Doom, that could have destroyed a lesser opponent. Brilliantly, Sir Me managed to use his gauntlets of magic to block this attack, and stabbed the beast with the Sword of Prior-Topic-Revision. The creature fell back with a squealing, so Sir Me, using the ancient swordplay technique of 'Remembering-The-Presentation', charged and scythed the beast, taking off its hat.
Suddenly, however, Sir Me missed his attack and the beast sank its teeth of Misunderstandingthequestion into his weak spot. Screaming with pain, the brave knight managed to fight back.
Despite a few more desperate attacks from the beast, in which Sir Me was wounded (especially in his TalkingFrenchByAccident arm), the beast was finally killed. As it died, it fell backwards and plummeted into a pit with a cry of 'Areyousureyou'renottakingspanishforAlevel!!???!??!?!?'
Sir Me readjusted his armour and rode off into the sunset.


The bold bit marks the point at which I got tired of making a repetitive metaphor, and realised that writing combat scenes is both hard and boring. Kind of like Joe's penis. Ooh, rinsed. Oh well.

In other news: I went on study leave today. Apparently we should all be heartbroken and hugging each other and crying our eyes out; we'll never be in the same class again! Fuck that, I hate my class. You can all go to hell.

And in other news: 11Q suck and we're all glad that they're gone. Please go onto www.nearly-there.blogspot.com and pass on my sentiments.

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