Play the REF song lyric game….

As I’m in the middle of marking and the thought of sticking chips in ketchup up me nose seems like a good idea right now, I started thinking about how you can replace key words in songs with “REF”.


For example, take the 90s anthem of mediocrity “Return of the Mac” by someone whose name I have repressed. I’ve changed “Mac” to “REF”. It doesn’t actually change the song in any way and, at the same time, is almost like this pop wannabe foretold the appearance of the REF nearly 20 years before it occurred:


Oooooh, come on, ooh yeah


Well I tried to tell you so (yes I did),

But I guess you didn’t know,

As the saddest story goes,

Baby, now I got the flow,

‘Cause I know it from the start,

Baby, when you broke my heart,

That I had to come again,

And show you that I’m with.


You lied to me,

All those times I said that I loved you,

You lied to me,

Yes, I tried, yes, I tried,

You lied to me,

Even though you know I’d die for you,

You lied to me,

Yes, I cried, yes, I cried.


Return of the REF,

It is,

Return of the REF,

Come on,

Return of the REF,

Oh, my god,

You know that I’ll be back,

Here I am.



Return of the REF,

Once again,

Return of the REF,

Top of the world,

Return of the REF,

Watch my flow,

You know that I’ll be back,

Here I go.


So, I’m back up in the game,

(Running things like my swing),

Lettin’ all the people know,

That I’m back to run the show,

Cause what they didn’t know was wrong,

And all the nasty things you’ve done,

So, baby, listen carefully,

While I sing my comeback song.


You lied to me,

Cause she said she’d never turn on me,

You lied to me,

But you did, but you did,

You lied to me,

All this pain you said I’d never feel,

You lied to me,

But I do, but I do do do.


Return of the REF,

It is,

Return of the REF,

Hold on,

Return of the REF,

Don’t you know,

You know that I’ll be back,

Return of the REF,

Oh, little girl,

Return of the REF,

Once more girl,

Return of the REF,

Up and down,

You know that I’ll be back (round and round).


Ahhhhhh SuperStarTM

Stop worrying about your big break


You lied to me,

Cause he said she’d never turn on me,

You lied to me,

But you did, but you did,

You lied to me,

All this pain you said I’d never feel

You lied to me,

But I do, but I do do do


Return of the REF.



See, there are some aspects that are rather spookily accurate…..


Don’t underestimate the usefulness of trained monkeys….or dogs in student feedback

I have decided that rather than spending the next three weeks dutifully marking essays and providing feedback, which most students don’t even read, I am spending the time training my dog to do the task.

Last year, she contributed her own comments to some exam scripts, as evidenced by several dirty paw marks. Her general view was that they were of low quality, and this was evidenced by her trying to paw them under the sofa.

So, I think this is a promising start. She can recognise dirge when she sees it; I just need to get her to recognise the rare pink unicorn when it comes along. Given that this happens so rarely I don’t think I need be overly concerned.

Now, if only she could answer the inevitable emails I get once the marks are released complaining about how I have failed to recognise their genius and can I remark their essay…..

It’s ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!

There comes a point when work just HAS to take a back seat. Such as when dead grant applications grow legs and crawl out from under the chaos that is the mess of the home office. Now, bearing in mind that I believe that the floor is legitimate stacking space, there does come a point when the % of walking space is less than everything stacked on the floor. And I was starting to feel like my mind was being reflected back at me in the chaos of my living room floor. So, rather than putting in a full days work today, I took a couple of hours off to tidy up at home.

And, my god, I have a DESK. I had been wondering this past month what those legs where sticking out from underneath the piles of papers. I guess that’s what my phone, PC and stacks and stacks of memos have been sat on all this time. And, I apparently have 3 laptops [all with cases], a tablet, 5 “experiment notebooks” [To Boss: All Half Full, can’t comment on quality, but given that we’re already under the kosh of REF2020, it’s quantity that matters], three lava lamps, four pairs of crocs from Lidls, and 20 stats books that all say exactly the same thing. Those are, however, to be expected in the academic’s home office. What was a surprise was the hoover…..


Glasgow residents, you have my sympathy

Hosting the Commonwealth Games is only ever a great idea for people who don’t live in the city.

Glasgwegians living at opposite sides of the city have had to endure what can only be described as “carpet bombing” many nights between 11pm and midnight. No, the Israeli’s aren’t bombing them, and it isn’t Russia downing Easyjet planes.

It is fireworks.

But these aren’t your ordinary fireworks. These are like living in the middle of Gaza. Like being under constant shelling. They don’t go whistle and bang. They explode like a nuclear detonation and can be heard miles away.

The first night it happened, the opening ceremony at 11.30pm, residents 10 miles away thought that there was a thunderstorm at first, although it didn’t quite sound right. Then they thought a plane had crashed or bombs were going off. Then, because in typical Glaswegian fashion, those that live in Glasgow couldn’t care less about the Games, had an inkling that there might be some big event going on.

But, seriously. One night it was midnight when they went off. And, secondly, what happened to a simple Catherine Wheel? Do residents really have to feel like they are being carpet bombed?

Never mind having to spend a couple of weeks avoiding most of Glasgow because the buses are full, and late, and there are no taxis, and the shops are hot and sweaty and heaving. No, we need to wake up several million people with a nuclear strike.

Clive Myrie…Fuck you!

Dear Clive Myrie

A quick note from Scotland.

We Scots find it offensive when you state that Scotland only has a few days of summer each year, which were last week, and now it is Autumn. This is just the typical type of parochial thinking that we’ve come to expect from twats like you from London. Fuck off back there before the Glasgwegians get you outside the stadium.

Of course, because of your parochial thinking, which is shared by the rest of the London knobs at the BBC, you are blind to the fact that everyone outside the UK thinks that it rains constantly in England/London too. Why do you think that 300 miles means that London and Glasgow have such drastically different weather.

Fuck you.

And good luck getting home tonight.

PS, your incessant drivelling on about bugger all is seriously annoying. Go back to reading the auto-cue.

Dear to-be-mother, we require more notice of your delivery date

Those Sugar Puffs are dangerous! I nearly choked on them again this morning when a spokesperson for the College of Midwives announced, in reference to emergency closures of maternity wards, that this does happen because people require their services with very little notice


If there is one thing that has a long notice period – in fact, NINE MONTHS – it would be going into labour.

If you can’t plan with that kind of notice no wonder the NHS is going to hell in a hand basket