Why Switzerland?
Well, no reason, other than that Switzerland is only the NUMBER ONE PRODUCER OF TOBLERONES IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. Thats right, every single toblerone ever produced in the world comes from one factory in Switzerland. The manufacture of the toblerones is fascinating. Firstly, they mix all the magical ingredients together in a giant pan made out of Swiss gold. From this pan, they produce a cube of chocolate with side of roughly one metre. Then, using special toble-chisels, the oompa-loompas chip away all the chocolate until the only toblerone shape is left (the excess chocolate is deemed impure and is gassed). Every toblerone then goes through a complicated system of vetting and checking to make sure that it forfills EVERY LAST requirement of the toble-kings, before finally being packaged and sent off to chocolate shops around THE WORLD.
But it's not just the toblerones. Oh no. As well as the toblerones, Switzerland is famed for being the land of the free, the home of the brave, and the landscape of the... bold. It's said that the streets in Switzerland and LINED WITH GOLD, and on every corner are rosy cheeked, hale busty maidens dressed in lederhosen and pigtails, ready to feed you with specially cut selections of pigmeat and roasted foreskin before taking you away to a mysterious chalet where you shall eat the finest cheese fondue while sitting in a bubbly jacuzzi THAT'S ACTUALLY A GIANT CHOCOLATE FONDUE POT, while being serenaded by the sweet symphany of alpine horns and french horns. And I haven't even BEGUN to describe the skiing. I don't ski, but I'll hire a team of professionals to show me how to surf. Then I'll set off an avalance of some sort and ride the wave all the way to the picturesque alpine town at the bottom, where I shall relax in a sauna (naturally, with rosy cheeked, hale busty maidens dressed in lederhosen and pigtails) before throwing myself into a freezing lake to blow out the cobwebs. I'll then go back to my chalet (on a very punctual train) and leap onto my huge bed composed entirely of softened bits of toblerone, and call in my swiss accountant to discuss the huge amount of money that I've poured into my swiss bank acount without any authorities knowing, before buying a load of precision watches and telescopes to celebrate my own brilliance with big swiss movie stars like Val Kilmer Toby McGuire? Mmm.
THAT is how awesome Switzerland is. So that's why I'm moving there. Unfortunately, in order to preserve the picturequeness of Switerland, computers are banned. So are telephones, televisions, and basically all modern electronic equipment. The swiss fear these things, and think that they will steal their souls. They communicate by trained carrier pigeons and by yodelling across the alps. In fact, you remember that avalanche the other year in the alps that killed all those people? They swiss government had heard rumours that there was a mobile telephone in one of the affected villages. Steps were taken. Personally, I approve of this, and will be destroying my computer before I finally make the big move. So this will be the last post EVER on this blog. Yes, I know. It's heartbreaking. But on the other hand, there are lots of good blogs out there. I especially like to read this site, which should definitely win some sort of award for genius.
ONLY KIDDING. I'm not REALLY going to live in abroad. All that stuff I was saying about Switzerland? Irony.* I'm only going for FOUR DAYS to go rowing. Yes, rowing. In Switzerland. And this means that I have to get up at 3 in the feckin morning tomorrow. THREE. THAT'S LIKE FOUR HOURS EARLIER THAN WHAT I'M USED TO. IF I WENT TO BED NOW, I'D STILL HAVE AN HOUR LESS SLEEP THAN I REQUIRE. CAHNTS.**
I'll get back at 11 on Sunday. So if anything exciting happens (and God knows, it always does when I'm not in the country), please find some way of informing me. For example, if Lucia's throat surgery gets pushed forward to Saturday and it gets botched and she ends up looking like Jack Nicholson in Batman***, kindly text me.
Actually, thinking about it, if I get back at 11 on Sunday, when am I meant to do ANY homework? I have a lot of homework. By my last calculations, I had THIS much homework to do:
- A 400 word History essay - Was the failure of the Weimar Republic inevitable?
- A 1500 word English essay - What principles ensue that normal conversation is not chaotic?
- A 200-300 word French essay on a piece of French cinema and how it ranks up to other pieces of French art
- A two page History essay - How responsible was Germany for World War 2?
- A long English essay on Dracula
- Like, 18 pages of French reading
- Some English reading
- An English essay on The Tempest... however, I have no idea about the title/length/deadline of this essay
- History reading AND note taking
- TWO pieces of English coursework.
- A French essay on homelessness... fecken french hobos
And I've just worked out that, due to general inadequateness, I'll have to do most of these at 11 on Sunday evening, because I'll be fecked if I'm doing them now. Yes, that's right. I'm a REBEL. And I'm listening to Beck right now, but as I type this I'm moving the mouse with my nose to change it to LINKIN PARK.
SWITZERLAND, FRICK YEAH!
*Finally:
**I hope that you've noticed that, in my drive to wipe out obscenity on teh interwebs, I'm spelling all my curse words incorrectly.
***But seriously, Lucia, I know that you're worried about the surgery, and I'm sure it'll go fine. I've known loads of people to have their tonsils removed, and I'd say that a good five or six-ninths of them got out FINE without any permanent scarring, psycological damage or muteness. So your odds are good. Hell, I'd bet a small sum of money (about £4... not much more) on your survival. You'll be fine. I'm sure.
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