Wednesday Chatterbox

As I've mentioned before, at university my PM was regarded by some of his tutors as "a dangerous lefty", i.e. the sneaky type that blends in instead of conforming to the "anoraks and slipper shoes" description. I suppose the fact that he had trained to become an officer in the Territorial Army at the time only made him more suspicious in their eyes. We had always assumed that his experience in driving a tank and blowing things up would come in useful during the revolution. He never joined the Communist Party; last time that came up was when he was vetted before he met the Queen.

However, one of his uncles was a card carrying communist. Family lore has it that he was involved in blowing up a bank in Glasgow. As the PM put it, "they didn't want the money, they just wanted to make a point."

Wordle 249 4/6

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Think I might change my starting word

What am I? Chopped liver?

I think it is at least a couple of weeks.

For a 30 hour game it's probably a month. You have to play it, write the review.
I understand it is common to load review copies with premade characters at specific points so that the reviewer can't miss the good bits.
You have to make it easy for reviewers to enjoy the game.
Some companies even hand out pre written reviews I've heard. Makes it dead easy to review the game.

Not that Keef needs a premade level 300 character to see the ending of a game.

My father was an engineer - a specialist in WWII in the 8th Army (they kept him in Egypt servicing Scammells* until 1947, which made him very annoyed as he was terrified my mother would get hitched to someone else) and his stories were mostly humorous, apart from one awful one about how his best mate was shredded by blast standing right next to him. He ended up working in a senior position in the NHS, after spending 12y working during the day and studying at night school five days a week... I rarely saw him except on the weekends until I was 14y)

*NOT "they kept him in Egypt servicing Camels"... This is a painting of a Scammell Pioneer with an M3 Grant...

www.theguardian.com/games/2022/feb/23/elden-ring-review-an-unrivalled-masterpiece-of-design-and-inventiveness
Simon, not Keef. There you go. Simes may need help.

Mt grandad was a member of his local bowls club. Not sure what their political stance was, but I reckon it was pretty extreme

Non comprende cinco estrella

My father was a Royal Marine Commando from 18 years old (he signed at 17) and fought in Aden, where he was injured. His unit was ambushed in a street area (urban) by a machine gun nest and he was hit with a ricochet which hit his right cheek and sent bones fragments into his brain, he used to write everything down as little notes. He spent five years in and was medically discharged with the rank of Corporal (OR-4) he had been in the process of going for his Sergeants bar (OR-5/6).
My cousin was 2 Para and fought in the Falklands War.
(from what I have been told)- My maternal Grandfather was Royal Artillery in WW2 (clan Matheson/Masson), great Grandfather and great great grandfather were both Black Watch. My paternal grandfather I have no knowledge of.
I chose a different path in security and Martial Arts, though not so far removed.

My Dad was a racing driver.

He was evacuated during the war along with my Aunt, they complained and my Nana brought them back so they could experience the Blitz. Top parenting. 4*

Well obviously you won't understand if you've had 5 bottles of Estrella.

The big bottles. Not 330ml bottles. Tuffers is not a teenager.

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy – the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we’d make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really.