saintbletch

Welcome Deano6. But surely it's J R Hartley. Are he?

I can't help thinking that I should be offering to intervene here; I feel that I should play Kofi Annan or Boutros Boutros-Ghali and offer to meet both sides and mediate. I'm actually going to be on Merseyside on Monday for a family funeral, and I'm tempted to dodge the interminable and undoubtedly mawkish Catholic service and instead deliver messages between them whilst wearing a Red Cross or Mongboard Sans Frontières tabard. But on second thoughts, I'll do a Syria and leave you to it. I'm worried that I might end up like Terry Waite; chained to Barry's radiator in a room full of dog excrement while he kneels down next to me, strokes my hair, and points out at some length who the good and bad players are in the Saints' squad.

I'm sure you find it hillarious BTT, but you try being that different; that dandy at school. The worst of it was that their jealousy found physical expression. I remember that day well. Stoically sitting still for the camera, knowing that the patter of phlegm hitting the back of your wonderfully coloured cape wasn't going to be the only DNA that you'd be forced to accept once you were locked in the dorm' after vespers and lights out. 'Such a pretty mouth Bletch', they would say as they corrupted me, while I corrupted them and the establishment corrupted us all. The library became my salvation and was my salve against the pain of the nighttime favours I'd be forced to endure. But guess what, the "boring old books" were like a crucifix to a vampire. Whilst I had a book in my hand, Tokyo "Stinker" Saint and Brian "I'm hard for you" Earsy would leave me alone. And that's why, day-by-day, I try to pay back the protection that words lent me against the abuse of those two animals.

This polo victim, Toke. Did he get the "mint with the hole" stuck in his throat? Or did he fall off the horse? My pupils said of me "My God he's a boring bastard, but at least he didn't **** off to The Lounge, and he made a determined commitment to keep TMS open". Oh and they also said "Toke's a ****".

No, not kept back BTT. I only lasted 8 minutes one evening. I've not seen the Spillet for many a year, but I'd find it hard to believe that he made it into teaching - unless the qualification at the end were A Level Psychopathy. He was a good lad, but had absolutely no fear.

1841-1849 at Charterhouse, BTT. Or Gosport in the 80s if you prefer (senior school). Do you think you know "The Spillet"? He had a protruding bone in his chest - he called it a pigeon chest and he would run at the opposition and attempt to spear them with it. It was that among other things, which made me realise that despite my own physical suitability for rugby, I should kick the ball instead.

EDIT: Correctly guessed by deano6 as aids victim. From the early days of TMS... pap, play nicely.

Correct. I played Rugby with a lad called Spillet who was about 6 foot at the age of 12. He used to demolish everyone and eventually we all stopped chasing peanuts and concentrated on the beautiful game. Mr White the PE teacher tried to handicap him, but it didn't work. I think you're the Word Cloud Spillet pap, I'm going to have to handicap you.

And incredibly... Saki on tit yo!

Word clouds will eventually do all of that and cure cancer too, Halo! Regarding Shakespeare, it's possible to look at the language used in a specific play or plays and compare it to the language used in other works attributed to Bill. But language changes over the course of an author's lifetime, and in the case of Billy S he was inventing words, phrases, similes and other literary devices in most of his plays. So you'd be coming across unique things in each play. Using common logic, this might point to the fact that he didn't write them all, but in fact it was simply his creativity and the relative immaturity of English that makes the language different from play to play. As I mentioned before, NLP is rarely deterministic, but instead gives indications and inference. That said, I think with Jeffrey Archer's works I would stick my neck out and say that I feel it would in fact be possible to create a corpus of his works, analyse them book by book, look at how he builds sentences, look at how he describes dialogue and then arrive at the conclusion that the bloke is a complete ****. You might even be able to see significant departures in style from book to book and determine that different people are writing it. But if he has different editors that he leans on heavily, you might just be seeing their influence. As for predicting the decline of an author, you might see trends, but if they are writing fiction they'll likely be 'wearing a different voice' for the work anyway. Look at pop acts that have continually attempted to reinvent themselves over time: Bowie, U2, etc. You might look at different parts of their oeuvre and determine that there is a change, a decline, etc. But instead what you are seeing is a conscious attempt to appear different.

Who is this?

Thank you Bear. I knew I could rely on your level headedness and impartiality to arrive at the conclusion that Toke is a whinging ****-whitted, ****-filled, ****-wearing, ****-fuelled, ****, ****-eating ****. The committee will allow your appeal this one time, but once I, erm we have reviewed the voting, my, erm our decision will be final. You must remember that the head-to-head contest that you had with Toke, doesn't count. BTW did you know that I A STINKY HYPHEN TOO, is an anagram of Tokyo hyphen Saint?

There's the quick, and then there's the dead, Fowllyd. Personally, I've never been a fan of wordy or verbose posts. Ask Toke. Ahh, this takes me back. I remember my first series of posts on here, it was the long winter of 2006 and I posted a treatise on the subject of trolling. It all started when.... Toke's a ****.

Correct. pap is literally wiping the floor with the competition.

Correct. Was it "chickens" that gave it to you? I thought the presence of "dog" might throw a few.

It's not all about you, Toke. You played well; a worthy competitor, and you vanquished The Bear in your head to head competition. But since the competition was opened up to others, you made it clear that you wouldn't be leaving your bed and instead simply removed your playthings by jettisoning them over the walls of your crib.

EDIT: Correctly guessed by pap as dog. Moderately difficult I would say...

EDIT: Correctly guessed by pap as StuRomseySaint. OK, here's a couple of banned posters from yesteryear. Easy, but I know who it is so I would say that...

Drum roll please.... pap: 5 Fowllyd: 3 buctootim: 1 Bearsy: 1 Lets B Avenue: 1 notnowcato 1

Correct, that was 110_Persaint's facepalms.

Oui.

Right, well #308, is all but impossible so I wouldn't waste too much time on that, #300 is a relatively well-known poster, and I believe that you're still to guess the banned poster in #299 - unless I missed that guess. And here is an updated word cloud of the poster from #300.

That's fair enough Pancake. Apropos of nothing in particular, but did you get your nickname because you're an accomplished tosser?

Who? Now you mention it BTT, Spudders might have been a third cloud that wasn't guessed.

Not at my desk Fowllyd. I'll check when I get home. I think there were a couple left unsolved. One, a banned poster and the other an unknown that you'd struggle to guess.