On Saturday I attended the wedding of one of my friends over here, Dan Williams. Dan is a former debater of note in the United States and by chance ended up staying in the same building as I did with his fiancee, now wife Yun Hi. My parents got on very well with them when they visited and they are a lovely couple. Their wedding was certainly different, but not actually typical of a normal Korean wedding.

Most Korean weddings actually take place in wedding convention halls. These are large multi storied complexes that have about five or six halls that process a skew of ceremonies everyday. The ceremonies take place, then all the guests merge into one large catering facility and eat together. They eat from trays, sit on plastic seats and essentially get fed like you would at school dinners. The place Dan and Yun Hi were married was much nicer than this, if still a little strange.

It was a restaurant at the top of a movie theater. (The movie theater had a large model of Gandalf from the Lord of the Rings outside in a surreal touch.) The restaurant itself had a sort of mock medieval/Knights of the Round table vibe, but just about carried it off without being too tasteless. It also had a nice balcony where some of the guests, including myself, could view the festivities, and very nice they were too.

Most of the ceremony was in Korean, but with a lot of clapping by the guests that was easy enough to follow. However, they had a really lovely touch where Dan gave his vows in Korean and Yun Hi gave hers in English. I think I got something in my eye at that point. The place we were in had a retractable roof and at the end everyone got a helium balloon which they got to release. It was a lovely moment, that not even the grumbling of those who pointed out the environmental damage caused could spoil. We even then got a nice bit of steak. Grand.

Another post!
A very busy day here on the blog. Busy, yet depressing.

I just had class with some Elementary students. They like the middle schoolers are currently looking exhausted and stressed. The reason for this is the dreaded mid term exam. This result of this test along with the final have a big impact on what middle or high school they move onto. It is at this stage that the pressure cooker for these kids is really turned on. Kevin and Richard, were both born in 1995, which by my poor arithmetic means they would be in Primary six or seven at home. These guys are up at the crack of dawn right now and going to bed well after midnight. It is just too much for kids this age. Too much.

Makes this significantly less of a surprise http://english.chosun.com/w21data/html/news/200704/200704230029.html
A few of the older kids I taught jokingly talked about 'suicide' if things did not go well. I was not laughing sadly. It breaks my heart as a matter of fact. Too much.

If JM Barrie had it done it correctly, then Peter Pan would not have gone to Neverland and never grown up, he would have gone to the University of Glasgow and never wanted to leave.
This thought is prompted by those friends who glumly inform me that they are not really doing anything, other than being ensconced in the library, studying for finals. (I remember those days drinking hundreds of cups of machine coffee and eating so many bars of boost that you discover new and unexplored notches on the belt.) . The rest of their comments are as stress laced and frantic as you might expect. These conversations leave me with a slightly melancholic and empty feeling. Not simply because I sympathize with those cramming away, but because it is a reminder that it is now nearly two years since I graduated. Indeed, I do not find that a pleasant thought in the slightest. To fully explain why, necessitates a brief recap of my life since Graduation. (****Health warning*****Those who are completing, or have completed finals might want to look away now.****)

Immediately after finishing final examinations, most people will undergo a feeling of quite extraordinary euphoria. I'm done. No more crap coffee, or calculating over and over exactly what marks you need for a 2:1. No more being rude to people simply because they do not have finals.
“How was studying?”
“Fuck off, get the aids virus and die.”
And blissfully no more finals themselves. The nervous waiting outside the hall, reading over torn notes, whilst one prick who clearly knows his stuff, serenely wanders around signing “Happy People” by REM. However, after the euphoria dissipates, and the inevitable hangover clears. Another feeling appears. Emptiness. What do I do know? Where once you might have a spare hour or two to check e-mails and watch Neighbours, now you have literally days to yourself. What do you do? However, this feeling is quickly overtaken by the anxiety, if not terror of the results themselves. But they come, quickly enough actually, and you can ran the gamut emotions based upon your Geoff Hurst, your Pole, your Desmond or your Douglas Hurd. (I call a 2:1 a Pole because there seem to be a lot of them around.) Then comes graduation and it should be a great day. Providing the weather holds up, there should be happy memories of an early evening taxi home, pissed as a fart after your old boy spent this months mortgage down at Ashton Lane. So you wake up the next day and then it really kicks in. A slow creeping feeling like sweat up your back or diaorreha down your leg. What do I do now? And not just how I do fill the gap between Countdown and Neighbours? What do I do with rest of my life.

Personally, my own existential conundrum was punctuated by a debate tour around the United States. This was in equal measure, the best experience and biggest curse of my life. Fantastic, because of course I got to see the USA, speak in some great debates and be treated with incredible hospitality. However, being asked for your autograph and being informed that you are in equal measure both incredibly witty and intelligent is not, is certainly not a stabilizing effect on the ego. Neither does it equip one with a realistic view of the employment market when one does in fact return home and start applying for jobs. (Ooh look at that use of 'one', I'm like a member of the Royal Family without the genetic equivalent of a paddling pool. ) Anyway, lets just say that I underwent an emotional shift of bipolar proportions. From Mr talented debater to Mr We thank you for your application, however you did not make our shortlist on this occasion. It only gets worse the more you sift through job advertisments. I mean exactly what the fuck is a dynamic self-starter? Dynamic? Well I am not static, I am capable of the most basic of human movements. Self starter? Well someone does not have to pull my drawstring in the morning, I get up on my own (In fact I had a friend who said he could only adequately wake up after a blow job. This was of course a bit of a pain if only the family dog was in the home.) I am convinced no one actually knows how to write job ads, so they just open the paper and copy the ones that are already there.

However, after a few months I got my first opportunity. An internship with a public affairs company. It went well, well enough indeed, that it got me a trial run with a PR firm. The months trial went well and I managed to get a full time gig out of it. The problem with this however , is that I did not really like the job all that much, and I really did not feel I was very good at it. If you feel like you are pestering journalists, PR is probably not the career for you. If write press releases and they come back covered in so much red ink, that it looks like it was used to put pressure on a knife wound, certainly not for you. This was offset by the fact that I worked with some of the nicest people on the face of the earth. Indeed, the Managing Director was so lovely that I was convinced she was a robot. My day to day superiors showed incredible patience with me and I will always look back fondly at my time there.

Nevertheless, when the opportunity arose to teach 'elite' and 'talented' children and be engaged in general debating activities in Korea, I felt the sort of excitement Gordon Brown does when he sees a pension fund or Michael Jackson does when meeting a child from the Make a Wish Foundation. And things in Korea, well things have been interesting and the last forty odd posts should given a reasonable insight into the various trials and tribulations of the past eighteen weeks. So here I sit, staring at a Korean sunset, mulling over a plaintive thought. The notion that has occurred to many graduates I am sure. Are the best days of my life behind me?
Right at the end of my first year at University, I got elected onto the GUU Board of Management. The next year or my life on 'Jamie's board' was the best of my life. Every weekend had awesome nights in Glasgow's scummiest, yet best nightclub, the Hive. I met so many people, had so many good times and did it all drinking responsibly and not at the pace of the fastest drinker. In addition I did lots of debating and became involved in the youth wing of the dark church of Tony Blair. It really was just amazing banter and I can't help but feel a little melancholic when I think of it. Moreover, aside from the fun of it all, I had an identity, or a role, or whatever. I was a debater, I was secretary of this or convenor of that. Now, don't get me wrong, I recognise that in the grand scheme of it all it meant very little. A tit with a poloshirt and radio, is most of the time, just a tit with a poloshirt and radio. Yet within that little four year bubble, those little titles and jobs carried with them a sense of direction and a dash of prestige. I knew who and what I was then and I don't who or what I am now. Moreover, it has been nearly two years and I don't know who or what I want to be. I know I don't want to be teaching Koren eleven year olds how to write sentences and paragraphs in English. However, there are not many job advertisements for 'confused twentysomethings' anywhere.

Now I know things will probably work out in the end and I'll hopefully end up doing something I enjoy. Yes, there will be good times and I still have some wonderful friends. Crucially, I am aware that actually there are real problems in the world like poverty, sickness and getting slapped in the face with smelly fish. Yet, yet, that little thought remains, that once you have climbed to the top of the podium, everything is downhill from there.

I find myself doing something for the first time in my life. No, not attempting to train for a triathlon. No, not attempting to train Komodo Dragon's to perform Hamlet. I am actually supporting Manchester United. Manchester United, a football club, an institution, that I have genuinely despised for more than a decade. The reasons for my former vitriol are hard to clarify. There was of course the general domination and success. The arrogance of many of the fans, most of whom seemed to reside in Cheshire and Ireland. The snivelling sycophancy of the commentators as they fawned over Cantona and Keane. Also, back in the day, the excessive commercialisation of the club used to offend my once uber-lefty politics. I hated them, really hated them. So, how could this bubbling hatred be transformed?

Well the rise of Chelsea has a big part to play in this. There is just something so extraordinarily crude about the sums that have been thrown about in Chelsea village. Twenty five million quid for Ricardo Carvalho? Why not. 30 million on the player who very much used to be the worlds best striker, but has lost about five yards of pace ? No problem. SWP? Lets take two. It's gut churningly noveaux riches. Like the gangster who buys a Saville Row suit, but the suit wears him and not the other way around. It is not natural, it is nauseatingly unnatural, like Championship Manager with the cheats installed come to life. It is sad to see football being used as the plaything of a bored Russian oil oligarch who made his money raping his people out of their assests. You can take Roman Abramovich out of the Russian swamp, but you cannot take the swamp out of him.

Also, as much as I quite like and respect Jose Mourinho, he can be a pain in the arse at points. Liverpool FC have outplayed them on a number of occasions, but Mourinho has never once given them credit. Instead, he has engaged in childish playground antics with Rafa Benitez. (A gentleman if ever there was one.) The Mourinho routine has become jaded and tiresome. Indeed, when he complained of United getting refereeing decisions it was the clearest act of hypocrisy since George Washington asked his slave to get him a sandwich.

Furthermore, although they have been very successful, they hardly play scintillating football. They get the job done certainly, but so do Chartered Accountants, and nobody wants them to watch them for ninety minutes. Now United on the other hand seem to be playing the game the way it should be played. I have not seen a lot of them this season, but what I have seen has been stirring stuff.

And what about Cristiano Ronaldo. He was supposed to be shit this year. He was supposed to be abused to the point of capitulation. Instead, the one trick show pony has become the best player in the world. The jeers have spurred him to greatness. Now, he still has a face a kind face, (kind I'd like to punch) and a poncy earring. But I cannot help but admire his attitude and performances against such the adversity. Also, Paul Scholes has had an incredible season. He has suffered from asthma, vision and migraine problems over the years. I mean look at those ailments, that is what is supposed to happen to computer geeks, not professional footballers. Yet he has overcome his geekitis and been superb. Moreover, he does so in a way that is genuinely respectable. No earrings, no flash cars, no gang banging prostitutes. He just comes in trains hard and performs come the ninety minutes. As does Ryan Giggs, who shed his playboy image years ago and is producing incredible form again as he approaches his mid thirties. About a year and a bit ago it looked like he might be cast off to a Bolton or Wigan, or some other club that represents the elephant graveyard of a great career. Instead, he has produced his best form yet again and has become a fixture of this team.

Finally, there is the last hurrah of Govan's finest. He may be sporting a schnozz worthy or Rudolf, as I am sure he is no stranger to a bottle of Merlot. Yet despite these setbacks he has managed to build yet another team. He's seems to have constructed, pulled apart and then built again a number of great sides. Very few managers construct even one. He has managed to consistently do this for over twenty years, an astonishing record. Indeed, this latest incarnation is even more impressive when you consider his age, the inner turmoil at the club and the fact that he is facing a clear financial disadvantage for the first time in years. Nevertheless, he has bought well, Carrick and Vidic in particular have proved superb signings and showed that you can never underestimate a drunk from Govan.

So, all in all, circumstanses have forced me to support them in the Premiership title race. I would still rather see the Champions League be won by Liverpool and Arsenal are still my favorite English outfit, but I will still be cheering them on in the last games of the season.

Appearance is a strange thing in Korea.
Koreans are generally quite a vain people. You will notice them spending a lot of time fixing themselves in mirrors, doing their hair and adjusting their clothes. It's no surprise then that I often look like I have slept in a bin. (Once I did in fact sleep in a bin, but I was out of taxi fare and it was a matter of necessity.) They have a reason to be vain in fairness, they are a naturally very attractive people. God may not have equipped them with the ability to fight off invaders, but he did equip them incredible bone structure. Seriously, they are an incredibly handsome people and so I often feel like I look like Freddy Krueger on a diet of McDonalds and beer. (I went looking for T-Shirts last week and that was hardly an ego boost I can tell you.)
However, this concern with the the aesthetic is often taken to very damaging levels. The clearest example of this is the plastic surgery obsession. Plastic surgery is a very lucrative industry here, with many middle aged women capitulating to the craven urge to turn back the clock and also look more Western. The Western thing is just bizzare. What is exactly is more attractive about your average Westerner in comparison to a Korean? Have a look at Buchanan Street on a Saturday afternoon and it resembles a chamber of horrors. Nevertheless, adjustments to the eyes and to forehead ridges are all the rage. Moreover, a person cannot of course turn back the clock. An individual cannot make themselves look like they did when they were in their early twenties. However, you can make yourself look like a character from the Mos Eisley Cantina scene in Star Wars. You can make yourself look like your face was designed from a ADD afflicted toddler using Play Do. It would be funny if it were not so sad. To see middle aged women who could grow old with beauty and grace embracing the Michael Jackson guide to solving your problems.

************************************************************************************

One of my students asked me if I knew Teddy Bear Poo. What? No, I mean the bears are not real. Stuffed animals cannot actually do a shit. Ah, it finally clicked, but I don't know if I will ever look at Winnie the same again.

Seoul is a very, very big place.

The standard city contains about twelve million people. That is a lot of people. A lot. However, all of these people are not crammed into a space big enough to really accommodate them all. Hence the almost dystopian abundance of high rise buildings into which hundreds, if not thousands of bodies can be squeezed. Now London has an official population of about seven and a half million. However, these people are put in a space about three times the size of Seoul. It is this kind of comparison that elucidates the fact that Seoul has the densest population in the developed world. Only the developing world beats them out, India with its dysentery and roaming cows and Cairo with its... honestly I do not know what is in Cairo. Anti americanism? Buses to the pyramids?

The wider metropolitan area of Seoul just gets even more massiver in its largeousity. Greater Seoul, including the satellite towns and Incheon (where the airport is), has about twenty two million people. In terms of official statistics, this makes second only to Tokyo.
Now Seoul is split up into 25 districts known as Gu. I live in Nowon Gu, the most densely populated Gu in all of Seoul. It has roughly the population of Glasgow, about six and a half thousand crammed inside an area roughly the size of the Beer Bar. Actually the area is about 35.44 km² but honestly folks that is not that big. Glasgow itself is in fact has an area of 175km. So the same amount of folk in a place a fifth the size. If Keanu Reeves was reading this, that would surely warrant a 'whoa.'

If anyone wants to see the end result of many a Korean nightout then take a look at my Bebo page now. This video also explains why I have been hailed as Seoul's fat Eminem. Or possibly why Coolio has put a bounty on my head.

http://SpecialF999.bebo.com

If anyone wants to see the end result of many a Korean nightout then take a look at my Bebo page now. This video also explains why I have been hailed as Seoul's fat Eminem. Or possibly why Coolio has put a bounty on my head.

http://SpecialF999.bebo.com

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_prem/6574335.stm

Ah well....

They deserved their title, I must admit. They knock it about well as the wee Ginger man knows how to put out a team that can play attractive football. I do believe things will be closer next season, with Rangers already looking like they are made of sterner stuff.

I am really missing my football I must admit. Some Premiership does get shown on Korean TV, but I don't know, even that does not feel quite the same. It is also the fact that none of my friends really care about football at all. A bit of messenger chat helps, but certainly does not fill the void.

Indeed, I sometimes wish I hung around with British people more often. I have some good friends out here who are excellent people, but naturally they do not share all of the interests that I do. I think I made a joke about Jonathan Ross earlier this week and just recieved blank stares. Of course North Americans do not know who Jonathan Ross is. Why would they? Its not rudeness on thier part at all, but sometimes I wish there was another Brit in the gang.

It is of course election time in Scotland, and as a somewhat political person I have been trying to keep tabs on the developments at home. In doing so I listened to a webcast on the BBC between Carolyn Leckie of the SSP and Rosemary Byrne of Solidarity. I did so because I was genuinely interested to see if there were any substantive policy differences between the two. However, for the first ten minutes all they did was bicker over the Sheridan fiasco and so I, bored and annoyed, went for a shower.

Now one of the advantages of living in a studio apartment with great soundproofing is that I can sing as loud I want, when taking a dusche. If I remember correctly I moved through a selection of show tunes from West Side Story to Les Miserables. It was at this point, that I thought I heard my front door slam shut. In fact I was certain that it had. This on it’s own was not enough to raise any alarm, as sometimes other front doors can sound like my won. But I swore, I swore…. I could hear voices. Good grief. I was. I definitely could hear people talking from outside my bathroom. Suddenly I panicked, did I have robbers in my pseudo Hefner esque Bachelor pad.

Now in my shower I have two showerheads in my bathroom. One a fixed power shower and the other one of those detachable flexy things for doing your bits and pieces. Now I had already sort of damaged the flexible one already, but in my panic I ripped the metal shower head off. After steeling myself I ran out brandishing my bludgeoning showerhead to confront these aggressors. I of course confronted the dulcet tones of Ms Leckie and Ms Byrne buzzing from my laptop speakers.

I cannot help but wonder who however would have been more scared, the erstwhile robber or me. I mean I doubt the average Seoul miscreant is mentally prepared for the sight of a soaking wet Scotsman in the scud, unleashing a guttaral battle cry whilst carrying a detached showerhead. Probably not covered in your average Tae Kwon Do class.

So I stood there soaking wet, dripping on the floor, staring at the ripped off showerhead. How I have survived this long I just don’t know.the floor, staring at the ripped off showerhead. How I have survived this long I just don’t know.

Interesting times in the Land of the Morning Calm and the afternoon mental breakdown. The curriculum and syllabus is being overhauled at asylum A. We are introducing greater amounts of standard ESL education and preparation for the TOEFL (Test of English as a Foreign Language.) I am drowning in a sea of acronyms and new textbooks. Now guess who has been given the responsibility of coming up with lesson plans from our fancy textbooks? Moi. Let us ignore the fact that I have never in fact taught or indeed seen a standard ESL class. I'm the man for the job. There is another problem of course with my new found responsibility. I am not that great at English.

Now let us be clear. Actually, I speak the goodest out of manys of the peoples. By this I mean I am quite an articulate chap at times, however my knowledge of the mechanics of the English language is really not that impressive. As my High School English teacher Mrs Smith and Lisa Mennie of IAS SMARTS will tell you, the apostrophe has proved as much of a pain in my life as simple carbohydrates. I am really not the best person to teach people how to speak English. Yet this is going to form a major part of what I will be doing. Who knows, maybe soon there will be a load of Korean kids running around saying shanner and bawbag.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6563565.stm

Well this is going to put the cat amongst the pigeons.

Yesterday I was a TV star.
Well not really. However, I was at a taping for a Korean TV show called 'debate survival.' The premise of the show is that Korean High School students debate against each other, and the winners get to survive, and the losers have to wrestle wild Siberian tigers to the death. No actually, the losers only suffer the shame of losing on Korean TV. This is in effect the social equivalent of the wild tigers. The show was supposed to be a tournament format with the winners progressing through the knockout stages.
There was quite a set up for the entire affair. We were taken into make up before filming began. Unfortunately, the budget could not extend to some liposuction and eyelifts. Nevertheless, I walked out feeling like a socratic Christopher Biggins. There was an elaborate if not tasteful set, with a sort of faux Ancient Roman?Greek set up with big columns and pedestals. There was a big 'debate survival' sign in the middle of the set. The debates themselves were actually of pretty good actually, with the second one on 'internet censorship' particularly. Indeed, that is a pretty easy motion to botch up, but the kids did really quite well. The format featured 'cross examination', where the speakers get to directly question each other after the speeches. It got pretty confrontational and it reminded me of the ugly scenes when I debated at Northwestern University on the US tour. At one point in the first debate, I saw a scene which should make a certain Korean father a tad disconcerted. The first debate was on corporal punishment and the questioner was attempting to draw parallels between corporal punishment:
“So how would you feel if your father used violence against your mother?”
“Well you know it happens.”
“Sorry.”
“You know he hits my mother, sometimes he hits me, I mean it happens.”
The questioner, as indeed were we all, was a bit stunned by this admission of seeming domestic violence. I think he might have been kidding and I hope he was, because if he is not, it might spoil a proud family as they gather round the TV.
After the debate I had to give record a brief comment on one of the speakers. I had to analyse the PM and I combined some heartwarming encouragement with some Alan Hansen like criticism. “Well this schoolgirl just made a schoolboy error. She has brought up her teams mechanism or policy and then she has left that to her partner to analyse. You just cannot do that at this level. The opposition should have murdered her on that point, but instead he squandered his chance. You have got to finish your chances in those positions.” I was somewhat appalled by how big I looked on the TV monitors as I was filmed. I remembered of course that the camera adds about ten pounds, so on my reckoning, I must have had about twenty five cameras filming me at all times,
It was however a very enjoyable experience and featured the sort of debating standard that I thought I would frequently run into during my time here. Apparently, appearing on this TV show could make me 'famous' amongst Korean debating/teaching circles. Indeed, I am sure that I will be well known as the incomprehensible chubster very soon.

Music videos really are rubbish. This is the conclusion that I have drawn after spending an hour so of watching the Korean version of MTV. First off, we have Beyonce's new offering, called 'upgrade.' Musically it strikes me as a mixture of the run of the mill pap she has released since the pure dead brilliant 'Crazy in love.' I just could not believe how crappy the video looked. We start off with Beyonce writhing about in sand, with a little alligator wandering about. (It could have been a crocodile I suppose. ) What?! We then see Beyonce in the back of a white fancy car, wearing imaginatively all white. The video continues with these generic and tasteless set ups. I swear I think have seen more tasteful decorating at a seven year olds birthday party.

Up next we had Fergies' Glamorous. It featured Fergie in more dumb set ups including a sort of Bonnie and Clyde pastiche. She and the rapper Ludacris then shoot down some cops with a pair of guns. Well done on a gesture that is sure to play down the connections between hip hop and violence.

The other thing that strikes me as warped is how quite how many collabarations there are now. Can none of these stars record anything on their own. Do they get lonely and shy now in the big bad studio and soundstage all on their own. They all have to include a rapper so they can give the meaningful contribution of repeating the artists name over and over again. "Beyonce, Beyonce." "Shakira, Shakira." You know, just in case we forget the name of the person singing the song. I am sure the large population of record buying goldfish appreciate it, but I think it is a pain in the arse.

As I type, on came Christian Aguilera's 'Candyman.' Believe it or not this actually looked quite creative and fun. It also, featured Ms Aguilera featuring a pair of shorts so small they must have been stolen from the wardrobe of Kate Jones. Very nice.

Asylum A have picked up my hours and salary after the demise of asylum B. Indeed, they did so with a minimum of fuss. Frankly, I am quite suprised they have done so. It seems despite how unsucessful the program currently is, they are in it for the long haul. They are willing to lose in the short term, in order that they will make money over the long term. Fair enough attitude. However, despite the changes we are making I remain unconvinced by its long term chances of success. We are basically making it up as we go along frankly, and I do not see where the expertise is to make it work.

Being full time in asylum A has it advantages and its disadvantages. It is good that I will have to travel less and it is comparitively less disorganised then asylum B. However, on the whole the kids are not particularly talented. At B I was an actual debate teacher and coach, however at A I am more of an english teacher than anything else.

Asylum A really is lucky to have me however. Today I turned up for drink with a stupedous hangover. I had to leave one class twice to go and do a Sparrow in the toilets. Thats professionalism it really is.

So the Fleming family have now left Korea and I would guess they are somewhere above China as I type. It was really great having them here. I managed to get quite a few days off and spent a lot of time with them. They seemed to enjoy it, but they we were undoubtedly intimidated by the language barrier, especially in terms of ordering food.

Their presence here basically made me get up off my backside and do some touristy stuff and I definitely enjoyed some of it. For instance, I went to the War Museum with my dad yesterday and as a history buff it proved to be right up my alley. However, it was not without it’s shall we say Korean touches. The first part of the museum concentrated on war between the ‘three kingdoms’ of Ancient Korea. Part of this was a display on General Anbae. Anbae apparently braved defended his kingdom against impossible odds and killed his family. Yes, killed his family. In order to spare them the shame of being slaves to the evil invaders, he bravely killed them. This display was accompanied by a little play with the worst acting this side of River City. Frankly, all of it left me with was the conclusion that Anbae was either a stupid bastard or an evil bastard. Could the family not have legged it to the hills? Gotten a boat? It’s not like he was the head of the army or anything…oh wait a minute. However, the very interesting exhibits and it made a very strong effort to salute the sacrifice of the 21 UN nations that fought during the Korean War. It also had a statue outside of what looked to be two soldiers embracing. However, I could not help but think that one soldier looked like he was trying to go down on the other soldier….
“Oh god, war is hell!”
“Indeed it is, now suck me off bitch.”

I had forgotten how much I enjoy taking the piss out of my mother and sister, but they frankly give it away. Within days they began discussing the different foods they were missing. “Oh I would love a cup of tea. You can’t get nice bread here.” Finally: “You must miss a bacon sandwich, Kenneth.” Yes I replied incredulous. This patter continued as they engaged in a discourse that would make the ignorant believe they were in fact on an Artic expedition and not in fact in one of biggest cities on Plant Earth.

I think my family enjoyed Korea on the whole, but I do not think they will be back. It definitely has interesting tourist stuff to do, but not really in proportion to its size. The palaces for example are like boybands, they are nice to look at, but they hardly entertain for hours and once you have seen one you have seen them all. Seoul is with some noticeable exceptions, the worst city for architecture I have ever seen, just endless, almost totalitarian repetition of concrete tower blocks. Even the more creative attempts often end up looking hugely naff. Restaurants are rarely bilingual and not everyone is comfortable with my own random point and smile technique. However, it is very different over here and they certainly found it engaging. They had some good food though and they got to see me of course, which is well worth the trip. In fact if the Korean tourism Ministry got in touch…


My parents are not the only goodbyes I have had to make this week. Scott and David, the two guys I worked with at asylum B headed off. They are both headed off to that hellhole San Francisco. With it’s cuisine, weather and culture. I could weep for them. Scott was my favorite Karaoke partner and our rendition of Gangstas Paradise left an indelible impression upon all those who witnessed it.pleasure to work with them and I am sure our paths will cross again.


However, I have also said goodbye to Asylum B this week. The ‘elite’ debate academy that I worked at the weekend has closed its doors. However, no one actually bothered to tell me. I actually called up to ask about my month’s salary that had not been paid. Only then did I get the confirmation that it was being closed. I am still working out whether the place has unraveled so far that no one has paid the staff, or they are raveled just enough to remember not to. Either way, it sums up the pathetic manner that sorry place was run in. I have never seen disorganization like I did there. I remember the first weekend I taught there and how excited I was. I have not seen squandering of potential like this since the break up of Busted. (How could the solo careers have gone so wrong?)

What this means for me generally, I do not know. I have been told by Asylum B that Asylum A will be picking up my hours and wages. However, my boss at Asylum A does not seem to know anything about these development. As ever, it remains an enigma wrapped inside of a riddle with a side order of secret fries. (Secret fries are in fact eaten with Ketchup, not mayonnaise.) I’ll keep it playing it by year, but I might be making my own final goodbyes soon.

My mum and sister arrived in Seoul on Monday. Needless to say I am delighted to see them and their presence has lifted my spirits hugely. However, it is extraordinarily surreal to see them here. My life here is so completely separated from everything at home, that seeing them here, meeting my friends here, seems completely alien and unnatural. It is like they just should not be here, it does not compute. (Maybe now the Zeta-Jones felt when Michael first came round for tea.) More than their company, they brought Irn Bru with them, ah heaven....

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Events at asylum A continue to be interesting. At the start of this new month we lost more students. The program is not doing well and we are continue to lose kids like the Iraqi Navy leaks water. They are already losing money and I am not sure how long they can keep this up. We are due to undergo a relaunch in May or June, but I am not sure what is going to happen. They cannot keeping backing failure. If they do, it'll soon be known as the John Reid debate program.

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On Sunday, I judged one of the worst, yet most entertaining debates I have ever seen. It was a debate on political assassination. In which some of the following claims were made:

Saddam Hussein should be assassinated. (Sorry folks, that ship has sailed.)
The Nazi's killed JFK and Abraham Lincoln. (Yes an evil assassin named Johann Wilkes Bothen and Lee Harven Oswalden did the business using a time machine. What was really funny is the speaker who made these absurd statements became quite insistent, culminating in the classic POI:

"Would it not have been best if JFK had killer Hitler using political assassination first?"
"No."
"So, he should have let himself be killed, ridiculous!"

At the end of the debate I explained how this butchering of history contributed to his teams loss. He then started to argue with me, I proved my point by fetching an encyclopedia. And then smashing his face in with it.