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Amanda, come see me when you get a minute and are feeling up to it.  No, you're not in for a bollocking, so don't panic.

Whoever it was that asked Amanda to do magic for them: I will not be asking, and do not wish to know who you are at the moment.  This is because I am very fucking busy, and do not have the time to waste on you.  This is your only reprive.
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Possibly several someones.

The coroners report finally came in.  My Dad didn't die of old age.

I'm going to and and turn the fucking quarry into a glass zone.  Then I am going to come back, track down whichever cunt thought it was a good idea to poison my old man, and I am going to make them them die in pain.

Those of you that have classes with me today: study something.  I don't care what.

I'm back.

Feb. 4th, 2005 07:54 pm
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The funeral, as you young people say, sucked.  Not a huge shock.  Slightly more surprisingly, we're *still* waiting to hear from the coroner, but they let us bury the old bastard anyway.  Romany sends her loves and thanks to all those who sent their sympathies.

And for those keeping score at home, while I was down the pub with an old mate I also found out where the older and less attractive half of the Cassidy clan has vanished to, and I am assured that he'll be back in a week or two to drink all Harry's Guinness and talk for hours about "The Ould Sod" or whatever it is they're calling it these days.

Bad news

Jan. 22nd, 2005 04:51 pm
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My Dad's dead.

I'm going to the pub.
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I spent mine being wined and dined by some of the wealthiest bastards in the world, doing things I won't tell you about to their daughters, and stealing very important documents, with which some friends of mine should be able to prevent a few small atrocities.

Oh, wait, this is Xavier's isn't it? I'm a teacher here, aren't I?

As your guidance counsellor, I must remind you that really, and very seriously: I am not a role model, and anyone caught attempting to emulate me will probably wind up shot.

But, you know, I had a good new year, and a good break. Hope you all did too.
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That's rather snuck up on me.  I've been buried in paperwork, trying to make Lensherr's festive season a bit more fucking miserable.  But it seems to have taken.

In the process, I turned up a nasty little man in New York whose continued use of four functioning limbs offends me, so I'm going to pop out and happen to someone.  Then I am going to do my Christmas shopping, and when I get back, I'm booking plane tickets for London, because I have been struck insane, and fancy seeing my Dad at Christmas.

Amanda, Manuel, does getting a plane on Tuesday suit the pair of you?

I'm back.

Nov. 18th, 2004 11:46 pm
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Look grateful.  I have news, so I shall be stopping in to see various people, and hatching terrible plots.  But since none of it is burningly urgent, it can all wait until I've taken care of a few more important things.
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Something's come up. I'll be away for a couple of days. For those of you that actually like me, don't worry, I don't anticipate getting shot at on this one. The rest of you will have to contain your disappointment, I'm afraid.

If we're really bloody lucky, I might even have some good news when I get back. Some of it may even be LeBeau's fault.

If you really need me for some ghastly crisis, Nate has Culley's contact details. I'll trust him to know what actually is a ghastly crisis, instead of y'know, day to day life round here.
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I am in a foul mood, and expect to remain so for many days to come.  The greatest living Englishman has died.

I'd like to make this into a little parable about how many of you have been behaving in all sorts of sodding stupid ways in the last few weeks, but I won't.  Bad things happen to good people.  Wear a fucking hat.

Now, I am going to listen to music.
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That was hell of a landing. The place is a bit of a mess, so it was hardly our esteemed pilot's fault. I have to say that, or they won't let me on the plane back.

Turns out I do have some uses, after all - my old mate Sigrun is still doing something for the Minister of Justice, so I was able to give her a bell and smooth things over a bit, so that we didn't spook people overly, so everyone else is helping out and not having to fight too much with officials for the privilege.

I am not helping out. I am not a helpful man. I am a suspicious bastard, so I am doing the things that suspicious bastards do at a time like this, which is mostly work out who's coming out ahead on all this. So I'm installed in the Gaukur á Stöng, where some god-awful punk act called, I swear to god, The Fuckers seem to have some kind of residency. Thankfully, there's a quiet area where I can make phone calls from, and generally frighten people. I'm off to a few meetings this afternoon, as well. They stopped serving the beer with Vodka in it since they legalised lager, which is a little disappointing, but there's always the Brennivin to cheer me up. And when I say "cheer me up" I mean "make me go blind".

How did we ever get anything done before they invented laptops?
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A collection of random thoughts:

I see we haven't forgone our love of melodrama round here.

I've clearly left something important out of the self-defense curriculum. Still, I've got the summer to re-write it.

The reason people hear the same thing so many times is because they don't listen the first time.

Instinct is another word for habit.

"Death by cop" is a pretty bloody extreme cry for attention, but whatever works, I guess.

When you start talking like a Heinlein character, it's time to take less sodding drugs.
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I'm bored. I don't think I've actually had the time to be bored in the last year or so, but I'm waiting on my liason back home getting transfered out of his old posting, which is supposed to take another week or two, and with more or less everyone gone for the holidays, it's a bit bloody dead. I've caught up on my reading, and I don't seem to have anything left to do for the time being, which means it's time for me to go and do something more interesting.

But it turns out Amanda (different Amanda, not the small pierced one you all know and love) has gone and get herself into something stupid again, and this time she's not in somewhere convenient like New York, and HMG are sitting on their bloody hands as bloody per, so once again, Muggins gets the worried phone call from Dad, but since he's one of the guys that's got me a decent job again, I can't really say no, can I, especially since I've got sod all to do?

So I'm off for a bit, to Uganda of all places. I'll bring you all back something ethnic.
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I'm back in the mansion again. I'm sure you're all delighted, assuming any of you noticed I'd buggered off. I appear to have missed a fairly trying time.

I do, however think that those of you I've spotted saying things like "That was fun." or "Drat, did I miss the entertainment?" could do with a session or ten with Doctor Samson, as there's clearly something wrong with your brains.
x_pete_wisdom: (Default)
Subject: When we get that drink...

Remind me that I want to talk to you about an extra-curricular addition to the self-defense syllabus.

Pete

I'm back.

Mar. 31st, 2004 08:24 pm
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Look grateful - I'm here to save you all from Jake, and his unnatural ways.

I have been out into the world, but I have returned, because it is basically bloody horrible out there. You may wish to bear this in mind.

Shinobi: I have a box of Sobranie's for you.
Nate: Dom sends her regards, and also some form of highly suspect booze. I wish you to note that I have not drunk the booze, despite the provocation of several lengthy flights.
Amanda: Romany sends her love, and spoke glowingly of you. I wish she'd stop glowing when she speaks.

Anything else can wait until I've had some sleep.
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I was on the fucking phone with a mate from SIS when my door locked itself. If I'm going to get up early so's I can have a conversation with someone on station on the other side of the bloody world, I'd like to do it without having to explain to them that the yelling in the background is just youthful high spirits and nothing to worry about, and is not a sign that I'm about to be done in in some horrible way. It becomes very hard to get them to part with information I'm not supposed to have, if they think I may be about to die violently.

And for fuck's sake, what are you people doing up at six in the morning, anyway?

testing

Jan. 20th, 2004 08:11 pm
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part 2 )</lj-c
x_pete_wisdom: (Default)
Unless I'm tired. I'd hate to give the impression that I'm some kind of walking zombie, but y'know, it's been a busy week. Got over the jet lag, then there was work that needed doing, because Christmas is a good time of year for all sorts of horrible people to do horrible things, because no-one's paying attention, and I like to try and find out what's been going on. Nothing too rotten seems to have happened this year, although I note that the British government continues it's attempts to fuck over young people and the poor, which is nice.

I had my Dad sprung on me briefly over Christmas, which was, well, I'll present you with his opening line to me:

"I hear you've joined the nazi freemasons, Amerikan scum."

He's old, and evil, and smells like he's already dead. But on the bright side, he's worked out who really killed Kennedy and he knows where all the bits of Jimmy Hoffa are buried, so he's not totally useless.

I saw me sister Romany and her partners too, and they're still weirder than anyone else I know, but at least they don't smell.

The books have been... illuminating, Emma - thanks. Personally, I think it could be boiled down to "they're bloody minded bastards, who are alternately too devious and too stupid to live", but I can't play Scrabble with the letters after me name, so what do I know?
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