Hmmm, nobody spotted that the October questions were the almost identical to the August ones. I discovered that sometimes you can get two questions from the same topic … I must try that with Iceland, Hitler or the Titanic some time. No, come back here all of you! Just kidding. This month I got two questions wrong and was soundly out-pedanted and out-ketchuped by our WINNER for October – namely my fellow Melburnian
Andrei Tarkovsky’s house at 1 Shchipkovskij Alley is preserved. What happens if you go in and climb the stairs?
You fall off at the top, since although the staircase and walls are well-preserved, the same cannot be said of the roof or the flooring. See picture, taken from a 7- minute homage film called “pamyart'” (“The Set”)
Equally Accurate Answer
How well preserved is it? When climbing stairs in old houses, there are usually two options, either go up, or fall through to below. The better question might have been, who is Andrei Tarkovsky and why is anyone interested in preserving his house?
Even Better Answer (for those who have seen Andrei Rublev)
Avoid the horse falling down them
And for those who appreciate Nostalgia:
You see one of those huge Russian women they used to have in hotels (and possibly still do) to stop the guests leaving their rooms without permission.
- You find The Wish Fulfilling Room from “Stalker”. Most visitors wish that Tarkovsky had spent more time at The Editing Room.
- A lot of things happen. You are in motion, moving away from the floor… what has this got to do with Andrei Tarkovsky? I assume the answer is you go upstairs, but I’m sure you have some witty explanation that is far from this.
- All will be revealed if you play Led Zeppelin’s “Stairway to Heaven” backwards.
- Apparently, you are in the “Panatta Sport” fitness club: http://www.expat.ru/phonedir.php?cid=11 But I may be wrong and you may actually encounter Mr. Tarkovsky himself. Little known fact: Andrei Tarkovsky never really died, he is still dying, in an attempt to lull Death to sleep.
- At the top of the stairs at Tarkovsky’s house you will find the dinosaurs from Jurassic Park and Dr Bob’s travel agent. The Dinosaurs decided to set up shop as far away as they could from that silly rubber shark and that creepy old house. Chez Andrei is in a better neighbourhood, none of the neighbours are oedipal serial killers and the entire area is less earthquakes prone.
- Beware! You will find yourself trapped in a zany film clip for the debut single of a new Scandinavian boy band! Or someone will set fire to the place while you’re in there.
- Body slammed into the wall, strip searched for WMD, sent to Leeds and forced to listen to Philip Glass in Icelandic.
- Is this a physics question again? If your mass is 90 Kg and you go up 3 meters then you have increased your potential energy by 270 Joules.
- Naturally your excitement level becomes elevated as you seek the preserves in the cupboards of the house.
- Nothing. Like his movies, the stairs go on and on and on and on and on and on and on and seem to go on endlessly. You fall asleep before you get to the top.
- The present owner gets miffed.
- The reason Andrei Tarkovsky’s house was preserved is because the people who preserved it felt that the nature of the first non-Caucasian person to discover England was very important. Using arsenic solution as a flavouring agent (with a slightly bitter taste no less), they campaigned for the house to be preserved to their local member of parliament. Some say that if you climb the stairs in this historic building Andrei Tarkovsky’s cat’s ghost will meow at you from the bottom of the stairs. Those people are wrong, and what really happens is that you reach the top.
- The top flooor has been converted into a Starbucks? No? A McDonald’s? No? A Kinko’s? Icelandic embassy? My no-search-engine resolution is not going to last long.
- Thought it had gone: if still there something to do with burning and/or mirrors (having enjoyed his films)
- Where exactly is this place? Give me the name of the city and I’ll go and find out for you. [He lived in Vladimir – not Moscow]
- You are shot for illegal entry and attempting to deface a national monument.
- You cannot climb the stairs if the house is preserved
- You can’t. They were taken away and melted down to make ships in WWII.
- You come to a door. If you open the door, you discover a small room and the object of your secret innermost desire. Guarding this object is a swarthy green creature with an axe. The only way to obtain your desire is to kill the creature. Most people just shut the door and leave.
- You fall through the imperfectly preserved wooden stairs and into the septic tank. Send all complaints to the Australian National Trust.
- You get a bit puffed and then you get to the top, from whence you can observe the wonderful Volga River.
- You get crushed by a flaming equus ex machina, dropping from above (fear not, it would have been saved from the knackery the day before). (Sorry, guess that joke’s not Gudenov.)
- You hit the lid of the preserving jar.
- You keep climbing for what seems forever only to eventually reach the top and find out it was a complete waste of effort.
- You reach the first floor, what else. I discovered a lot about Tarkovsky, including his opinions on montage, but nothing on his house.
- You will find yourself at a higher altitude than at the bottom of the stairs, in the set of his film The Mirror.
- You will go through a portal that leaves you on the freezing shores of Iceland, of course!
- You will reach the dream room
- You’ll find the stairs are an illusion and are actually painted on the wall, causing much embarrassment when one tries to climb them. Bloody Andrei, he’s such a joker…
- You’ll quickly be expelled with a souvenir of Bruno the docent’s footprint on your ass.
- Your head will steadily move further from the earth’s core. [And further towards the Tarkovskian paradise]
William Caxton’s first print runs (at Bruges, but in English) were of several volumes of the History of Troy. What book was next to be printed in English?
- Ah sorry, to quibble with the question but he did not print a history of Troy. His print run was actually far better described as “popular medieval romance of Troy, The Recuyell of the Historyes of Troye, from the French of Raoul Ic Fvre, early in 1469”. The next was The Game and Playe of Chesse, from the Liber de ludo scacchorum of Jacobus de Cessolis through the French of Jehan de Vignay. (http://41.1911encyclopedia.org/C/CA/CAXTON_WILLIAM.htm)
- “Behind the Scenes on ‘Troy’ – Pitt the Youngest Reveals All”. The tome is shortly to be serialised in ‘New Idea’.
- “Let’s Go Troy”. A backpackers-on-a-budget city guide.
- “The Cat in the Hat arrives home to get green eggs and ham cooked by his lovely wife, the fox in socks after which she hops on pop and asks ‘are you my mother?'” by Philip Glass (not in Finnish).
- “The Complete Idiot’s Guide To The Fall Of Troy – A Readable Reference For The Rest Of Us”
- “The Game and Play of Chess Moralised”, a translation of the first major European work on chess.
- “The Game and Play of Chess Moralised”. A very unassuming title and difficult to see how he could fit many rude bits in like the afore-quizzed Gutenberg!
- “Uncle Henry learns his little nephew how to play chess” (Dit is weer een geweldige grap die alleen Hein waardeert, maar dat dondert nou even niet)
- 1066 – The real story
- A book of invoices to allow him to send bills to his customers.
- A dirty, filthy, obscene, pornographic one–consisting of sex scenes from the Bible.
- Actually, William Caxton’s true first print run was done in a type of English which to this day has not been used since. It was known as Shakespearean English. The History of Troy written in Shakespearean English led to most people who read it (being nobles, lords and other people with reading ability at the time) complaining that they could not decipher the strange language used. As such, the second book they printed was the Cliff’s Notes for the History of Troy (Caxton’s partner giving him the odd nickname of cliff due to his rocky disposition).
- An early transcript of the Tim Rice, Benny Anderson and Bjorn Ulvaeus musical, Chess. (Although I do believe the line “I get my kicks above the waistline, Sunshine” was added much later.)
- By Caxton? A Letter of Indulgence by John Sant, Abbot of Abingdon, was the next thing he printed. But that’s just a letter, so… The Dictes or Sayengis of the Philosophres, translated from French, was the next proper book printed.
- Flyers for a gig at a local tavern by William Hailey and the Portenders of Doom.
- Good old google (this has been plagiarised): While in the Low Countries he printed another book in English, The Play of Chess. It was also translated by Caxton himself, from Jean de Vignay’s French translation of Jacobus de Cessolis’s Latin original. This is Caxton’s first dated work, finished 31 March 1474.
- Helen of Troy’s Guide to Fantastic Sex.
- History of Trudging … the printings were done alphabetically.
- It is also coincidentally the shortest book in English. “What Men Know About Women”
- It was in the library, but it’s been stolen.
- Pornography, again?
- The “History of Troy 2 … Helens Revenge..the bitch is back and ready to rumble!”
- The book of english. Volume 1.
- The Bruges telephone directory? The Bruges Internet directory? A list of Bruges’ call girls? Not pornography this time. The next book to be printed in english was yclept “The Game and Play of Chess Moralised”. This was not a huge seller, but Caxton then hit upon the idea of calling it “The Game and Play of Chess Immoralised” and created the world’s first pot boiler. The first book published in England was called “Dictes or Sayengis of the Philosophres” whatever that means. Could be pornography for all I know.
- The dictes or sayengis of the philosophres
- The Game & Play of Chess Moralised (1474) Typical male – whoops sorry.
- The next publication to come from Caxton’s printing press was entitled “Increase Your Penis Size”, this was followed by offers of pornographic scrimshaw and subscriptions to Lady Godiva’s Scrivening-Cam.
- The Revisionist History of Troy. Helen was really abducted by aliens, and Paris was emotionally scarred by his good looks, laughed at for being a ‘pretty boy’ until only the sheep would keep him company.
- The Trojan Empire Strikes Back.
How many people are mentioned in the Bible as being left handed?
- Ehud by name. 700 others as good stone throwers. 1 + 700 = 701. Of course the Bible also give pi as 3. So allowing an error of about 5% in the 700 stone throwers gives between 666 and 736. Hey! Look- 666 in a Bible question- everyone has to drink.
- “Ehud the son of Gera, a Benjamite, a man lefthanded” and “seven hundred chosen men lefthanded” from amongst the naughty Benjamites. So 700 or 701 depending on how you count Ehud.
- 700 (Judges 20;16) Men left-handed who could throw a stone to within a hair’s breadth (of what is unspecified) chosen to fight the Benjaminites and Ehud, son of Gera, a Benjaminite (Judges 3;15) who killed the very fat King Eglon of Moab in a rather sneaky way. In total, 701.
- 701 – There’e the 700 in Judges 20:16 (Among all these were seven hundred picked men who were left-handed; every one could sling a stone at a hair, and not miss.) Plus Ehud, the son of Gera. (Although it’s possible he was among the 700)
- Ehud (Judges 3:15) and the Benjaminite troops (20:16). According to Scripture, these latter could sling a stone at a hair and not miss. The enemy countered this threat by shaving their entire bodies.
- 701. The 700 stone slingers mentioned in Judges 20:16 and Our Beloved Lord Satan.
- All of the sinister ones.
- ALL of them had left hands, as well as right ones. [Yes…. the Koran was later]
- All the bad ones.
- All the masturbators.
- All the once that weren’t right handed.. Wasn’t being left handed seen as wrong (it was in schools anyway) so maybe all the non-believers were left handers? This could explain all of those canes the nuns would give to children who wrote with their left hand!
- Almost no one in Biblical times could write, therefore I doubt anyone is mentioned as being left handed.
- Cack-handed people represent about 5% of a population and there’s no reason to believe that Biblical jews and samaritans and galatians and proto-christians et al would be any different, so it’s reasonable to assume that 5% of Bible blokes and broads are southpaws. Whether god got off his backside and specifically mentioned all these aberrant people is another matter entirely. (Actually, Dr Bob, had you asked about left wingedness instead of left handedness then the results of yesterday’s federal election may have generated a more reasoned, if equally asinine, response.)
- Enough to make me HATE them. Who knows what evil slimey things they have been doing in unseen corners. You’ll notice, lefties never shake hands with their left hands because their fingers are always sticky.
- I can’t think of any, but there is a theory that Hebrew reads from right to left because the guy who invented it was left-handed.
- Just me and Albrecht Dürer, M.C. Escher, Hans Holbein, Paul Klee, Michelangelo, LeRoy Neiman, Raphael, Leonardo da Vinci PLUS most of the Australian Cricket team.
- Many!! See “Left-handed” (From Easton’s Bible Dictionary) (Judges 3:15; 20:16), one unable to use the right hand skilfully, and who therefore uses the left; and also one who uses the left as well as the right, ambidexter. Such a condition of the hands is due to physical causes. This quality was common apparently in the tribe of Benjamin.” The tribe was many people so many were left-handed.
- None – they did their best to keep it a secret in case Mrs Oliver, Grade 1 Teacher And Professional Antichrist, saw them and smacked them with a ruler to try to make them change hands. Or maybe that was just me.
- One. Olgar The Horrible, who was, incidentally, an Icelander before he was smoten.
- The bodyguard of some Makkabian king is said to be a leftie. Source: John le Carre’s ‘Little drumming girl’.
- There were 700 Benjamites (Judges 20:16) plus some bloke called Ehud, and the biggest baddie of the lot, Satan, but she isn’t a person, so 701
- Those who know the answer, raise your right, uh, I mean, left hand!
- Two. (Ehud and the holy ghost – isn’t he the left hand of god?)
- Well on the one hand, way too many to mention and on the other hand, possibly the left hand of God, I wouldn’t know. I’m waiting for Mel Gibsons film version, “A Fistful of Righteousness: The Bashin’ of Job”.
- Whose bible? In my daughter’s happy clappy church’s bible no one is sinistero.
- You are quite stuck on things biblical and Finnish. Perhaps you should pray you find a new topic. I know I shall. Dear Lord, please help Dr. Bob with his affiliation affliction. Help him see endless possibilities. Amen.
In all the best circles, pies are consumed with tomato ketchup. What percentage of tomato ketchup is made from tomatoes?
Dr Bob’s Answer (well, once “ketchup” has been translated to “tomato sauce”):
120%-128% depending on brand (120g of tomatoes makes 100g ketchup)
Those in Agreement:
- 125g of tomatoes per 100g of ketchup
- 126%. This can readily be calculated from the fact that there are 126g of tomatoes in 100g of a particular brand (Heinz) of Ketchup. (We could have a nomination for the bent spoon award here, but I suspect there could be some evaporation, or other processing side effect)
OK – Let the Ketchup Fly:
- 100% if it’s been made with genetically modified ones.
- 100% of all ketchups sold in the USA (which therefore meet US Food & Drug Administration standards), by law, is made from at least some tomato, even if it’s only the residual tomato material from canning or juicing, like peels, cores and whatever else is left over. Or did you mean, what percentage of tomato ketchup is tomato? Quality is defined by thickness and no thickeners are allowed (only allowed vinegars, sweeteners and spices) which would imply a fairly high proportion of tomato residue – say about 85%. The rest would be mainly sugar or corn syrup, vinegar and mould. They won’t list mould in the ingredients list, but a small amount is allowed under the FDA standards. Yum.
- 100% of tomato ketchup is made from tomatoes
- 100%, according to the FDA. But we suspect they’re in league with the DEA and ATF. “Tomato” plants, officer…really!!
- According to German regulations, at least seven percent. And the Germans are the best cooks in the world (don’t you dare contest that or they’ll invade you).
- Actually 100%, all tomato ketchup has tomatoes. If however you mean what proportion of the actual ketchup is tomato, then it depends on the recipe. Here is one I prepared earlier. Use it to accompany burgers, sausages, and plain grilled fish and chicken, but always with enormous self-satisfaction bordering on smugness. Ingredients: 6kg/13lb ripe tomatoes, roughly chopped, 8 medium onions, peeled, halved and sliced, 2 large red peppers, seeds and white filament removed, chopped, 150g/5oz soft brown sugar, 500ml/17fl oz cider vinegar, ½ tsp large piece of cinnamon stick, 1 tbsp whole allspice, 1 tbsp whole cloves, 1 tbsp ground mace, 1 tbsp celery seeds, 1 tbsp black peppercorns, 2 bay leaves, 1 garlic clove, peeled and bruised, salt, paprika to taste (optional). METHOD: (1) Combine the tomatoes, onion and peppers in a large heavy pan over a medium heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until very soft. Push through a coarse-mesh sieve and return to the pot with the sugar, vinegar and mustard. Tie the cinnamon, allspice, cloves, mace, celery seeds, black peppercorns, bay leaves and garlic in a square of muslin and drop it into the stew. Bring the mixture to the boil, then reduce to a slow simmer. Continue to cook, allowing it to bubble gently, stirring often and carefully, for at least 10-20 minutes, until thoroughly blended and quite thick. (2) Leave to cool, remove the muslin bag of spices, then pour the mixture through a funnel into suitable bottles. Stored in the fridge this ketchup will keep for a month. If you follow the prescribed procedure for preserves and bottle in properly sterilised jars, it should keep for a year. (3) Use it as you would any commercial tomato ketchup, to accompany burgers, sausages, and plain grilled fish and chicken, but always with enormous self-satisfaction bordering on smugness.
- All of tomato ketchup is made with tomatoes. Even the icky cheap stuff has some tomato in it.
- Are these meat pies or fruit pies? Apple pie with ketchup does not sound very good but then I don’t like ketchup very much and don’t even currently own a bottle. But, moving right along, I think modern ketchup isn’t ketchup without tomatoes although I read that it was once mushroom-based.
- Arrgh! Ketchup! It’s SAUCE already! (I lived in the US for a few years and had the neighbours educated to call tomato sauce by its correct name when in my house – I called it ‘ketchup’ when in theirs – but I cannot believe that any Australian, even a pommy PhD, could use the K word so offhandedly in what was, until now, a reputable quiz I was happy for my children to read. I feel a fit of the vapours coming on and must lie down until it passes. Grrr!)
- Cats Up Doc? In the all the Best Circles, pies are made of meat, as opposed to the Lesser Circle here in the USA where they are made of fruit or pizza. In the Supreme Circle, pies are consumed with TOMATO SAUCE not “ketchup”. Ketchup is some un-Australian word from somewhere East of Java, Krakatoa probably.
- Depends on the manufacturer. Felix of Sweden claims over 75%.
- Having explored the best circles of my ‘frig the slightly mouldy bottle of tomato sauce declares 42% If Ketchup is more I will change brands
- Honestly, I think 0% of of tomato SAUCE, NOT KETCHUP is made from tomatoes. But I do agree, in the Australian tradition, that pies ARE best consumed with tomato sauce.
- I’ll have to “ketch up” on my research before I could answer this one!
- It’s tomato sauce please, and Heinz big red has 180g of tomatoes per 100ml. They must leave some room for all the sugar and salt.
- Ketchup? We have sauce on our pies here, mate.
- Ketchup? Ketchup?!? Haven’t you seen Pulp Fiction? We Dutch put mayonnaise on our pies & fries.
- No idea about ketchup, but tomato sauce? Damn, I know my tomato sauce! And my bottle of Big Red is 79% tomato. That’s the ticket.
- Not sure how much tomato is in ketchup, but I can tell you that 95% of a tomato is water – something you may not have known!
- Only the producers know, but i since i believe in everything i am told to, i will say 100%.
- See http://www.recipesource.com/side-dishes/condiments/tomato-ketchup1.html. The answer is: 6 lbs/(6lbs + x) *100%. Here x is the weight of all the other crap in the recipe in pounds? Or did you mean percent by volume?
- Since here in Straya we eat our pies with SAUCE, I have n.f.i. what goes into ketchup, and I’m proud of it. Ask a Seppo. Until we are finally declared the 51st state of the USA, or at best a client kingdom, I refuse to use the k-word, and anyway I’ll be seeking political asylum in Singapore shortly after the Yanks invade.
- Sorry, being South Australian we only eat our pies upside down with pea soup and tomato sauce.
- The only circles in which pies are consumed with tomato ketchup, in my opinion, are those written of so eloquently by Dante. The seventh or eighth is my best guess. In the sprit of your excellent quiz and in deference to your superior intellect, however, I did try and treat this question a little more seriously. So I set up an elegant little experiment, using a randomised sample, double blind and placebo controlled. Both bottles (there was only one brand in the Supermercado) said 205ml of tomatoes per 100g. I always thought that ml were the liquid equivalent of grams, but it shows how little I know, not being a physicist.
- The story of tomato ketchup begins in the early 15th century, where people were first discovering that squeezing fruits and vegetables produced a liquid that tasted almost exactly like the vegetables itself. The church of the time, quick to criticise and condemn these individuals (because of the science involved, which the church was always quick to condemn because it meant less control and money for them) and issued a requirement that none of these beverages contain more than 1/3 (or 33.333333etc%). Unlike with other juices, this has carried through to today.
- There’s no such thing as tomato ketchup. You’re either talking about tomato sauce or ketchup. Hopefully you’re talking about tomato sauce because we’re americanised enough as it is! Are you saying tom-ae-toe or tom-are-toe, anyway? Argh! Icelanders say Tomatur, but I say tom-are-toe, for I am from Perth. Er, Iceland. But according to my bottle of the stuff, it contains 79% “concentrated” tomatoes.
- Tomato ketchup? You philistine! Everyone knows pies need a pleasant mix of mustard, chilli sauce and barbecue sauce. In regards to the question, id say around 30% tops
- Tomatoes are the first of 12 ingredients on my ketchup’s label. So between 8 1/3 and 100%. Definitely.
- Well, except for a few added things like sugar, water, stabilizers, artificial color (or colour), vinegar, etc., it’s made from tomatoes that are 100% tomatoes.
- What do pies and ketchup have to do with each other? As I ponder this over and over, I am sure this is a trick question like spots in front of the eyes. I am going to guess 100% since all tomato ketchup must be made with some tomato, thus the name tomato ketchup.
- Yes, well some people prefer tomato paste – which is largely made from tomato.
- You put tomato ketchup on your apple, peach, pumpkin, mince, etc. pies? Yeech! What sick Australian custom is this?!
- What the hell is ‘ketchup’ Bob? Serious Aussie pie eaters use TOMATO SAUCE not ketchup. Bloody hell Bob don’t tell me you are joining John Howard up George Bush’s date. Ketchup is what a Kiwi has to do when he falls behind in a race.
Why was Anne Boleyn beheaded with a sword instead of the traditional axe?
- “I have a little neck” she said and she had heard that the executioner was good, and her death would be cleaner, swifter and incur less pain
- All that chopping with a dull axe was more than Anne could bear, so since she was the queen, after all, she requested a swift beheading…sharp, narrow blade, so as not to muss the hair….
- Anne was given the luxury treatment and a bonus set of steak knives. At her execution, Sir John Dundee, the ancient forebear of Mick “Crododile” Dundee was heard to quoth, “That’s not a canif!”.
- Apparently it delivered a ‘faster, neater end’ and was a ‘favour’ from the king for her execution. The king sent the Hangman of Calais. I would’ve preferred flowers, but maybe that’s just me. When Anne learned of the pick for executioner, she reportedly laughed heartily, glad since she had “a little neck.”
- Apparently she was terrified of the axe. So terrified in fact, that Henry gave his permission for Anne to be beheaded by a sword though it meant getting the french to do it. Frankly I think if you’re going to be scare of one why not the other? They will both sever thy head at thy neck. Perhaps Anne just said that because she preferred to be burned at the stake? We shall never know for certain.
- As a special favour from her ex, because she was frightened of the axe. Henry was such a kind and considerate man; he only wanted her dead, he didn’t want to scare her.
- Aww, her hubby still had a modicum of affection for her and wanted to make sure it was a quick, clean cut with a sharp blade rather than a hatchet job.
- Because her maiden name was Wilkinson and Henry had a sharp sense of humour.
- Because it was supposedly more humane – the local hangman carried out executions and wasn’t necessarily skilled with an axe, whereas the swordsman was an expert,
- Because no one could find a pen and the king had asked that she be beheaded in the mightiest way possible.
- Because she chucked a big sooky la la about the axe, which she was afraid of, so Henry caved and sourced a man that was good with his big, long sword to sort Anne out. Oooh, I didn’t mean for that to sound rude. Aw, ok, yes I did.
- Because she was a queen and therefore she would not be made to bow her head. What a courteous man Henry VIII was.
- Because she was Queen, she was entitled to a cleaner death than the locals were able to give with an axe. The axemen used to make a right mess, cutting through the face, taking several swings to get the head off, missing completely, losing their grips on the axe on the upswing and clonking some poor minion standing behind them. So they imported some bloke who knew one end of a Ginsu from the other. (Actually I thought that she had requested this, but I can’t find a reference to it so maybe it’s just another figment of my fever.)
- Because the executioner was French, and therefore inclined to be difficult.
- Being a general all round good guy Henry allowed the sword, cos Anne wasn’t real keen on the axe. (What a nice gesture). What’s even more interesting is there wasn’t anyone in England capable of lopping heads off with swords, so they imported a “skillful” French gentleman, who apparently did a good job.
- Blue blood – nobility got the sword, the rest got the axe.
- Clearly, the “traditional axe” was being used by the local slaughterman to prepare pheasants for the king’s celebrations, following the beheading.
- Dr Bob! Honestly! This question is related neither to Iceland nor to Hitler nor to the Titanic, therefore I refuse to argue.
- Henry VIII wanted to test out his brand new sword for sharpness.
- Henry VIII, through a pang of conscience, imported a skilled headsman from Calais in France to ensure the execution was performed as humanely as possible (As humanely as cutting someones head off can ever be). British hangmen normally got the job of beheading those condemned but were generally very poor at it due to the rarity of such sentences.
- Hey, that would make a great TV reality show – ‘Henry gets hitched’. Gold-digging strumpets compete for the postion of King’s assistant, er wife. If it doesn’t work out, he shouts – “You’re axed!”, and, well, you know the rest.
- I wouldn’t argue with a feller wielding a bloody great big axe, would you? In deference to her former position, it was decided not to entrust her execution to the clumsy axe wielding English headsman, who would probably be tanked up on lager and beef vindaloo and decided to import a smooth, skilled Froggy swordsman from Calais, which incidentally was the only French possession the English still had. He would have claimed to be the finest swordsman in all of France and would have smelled of garlic, so poor Anne would have been anaesthetized before the axe, or rather sword, fell.
- Out of courtesy.
- She got shafted, the rest were axed.
- She was afraid of the axe.
- She was terrified of the “unreliable axe”
- She was terrified of the axe. Two specialists were brought over from France as no one existed in England who had the necessary skill to carry out the execution cleanly. Her execution was swift and her body [presumably both pieces] was laid to rest in the Chapel of St Vincula at the Tower of London.
- Sword of a hard question. I’d have to axe Henry VIII.
- The aforementioned swarthy green creature had the axe.
- The axe was broken.
- The executioner was a pirate in his previous job.
- The guy who was supposed to do the job wasn’t well and according to union rules only an axeman can use an axe to chop off a head. Also no-one had actually invented the fender guitar in the 1500’s so obviously they had to get a swordsman to do it.
- The peers of the realm found her guilty and she was sentenced to death by burning or beheading according to the King’s wishes. Anne was terrified of death by burning and therefore agreed to admit that her marriage was not legal. The King then consented to her death by beheading. Death by the axe was a terrifying prospect. The executioners often took several blows before the head was finally severed. Anne was therefore granted some clemency and a swordsman was called from France to undertake the execution. This expert swordsman was able to sever the head of Anne Bolyen with one blow.
- The traditional axe was left handed, and Ehud was out of town.
- VIII didn’t want to wear out the executioner with so much work coming up. He was thoughtful that way.
This is one of the Queen’s, um, dogs. This is a corgi belonging to the Queen. In fact she has more than one of them. What is the plural of corgi?
- “Corgis”? The exception would be Chinese, where the plural is “Value meal”.
- “Corgwn” is the Welsh plural for Corgi. The “w” has sort of an “oo” sound (the “oo” is pronounced as in “book”). However, “Corgis” is a perfectly acceptable plural, and is probably clearer to an English-speaking audience.
- “Corgwn” is the Welsh plural for Corgi. The “w” has sort of an “oo” sound (the “oo” is pronounced as in “book”). However, “Corgis” is a perfectly acceptable plural, and is probably clearer to an English-speaking audience. Thankyou Mr Jeeves!!! In my personal opinion, corgis, sorry, corgwn are obnoxious little creatures that bark too much. Shut your yapper, I say.
- According to my colleague, who is possibly gay but certainly Welsh, the plural is Corgis. Or ManUnited Fans.
- According to the full oxford, corgis (english) or corgwn (welsh)
- Corgi is a plural. It is a little known fact that they are not true dogs but are actually made up of millions of tiny little organisms called ‘corgo’. When these organisms come together they shape themselves into the amazing likeness of a stupid looking dog.
- ‘Corgi’ is already plural. The singular is ‘corgus’. Nasty yapping creatures. Nearly as loathsome as cats.
- Corgi is the plural. One of the dogs is a corgius (Latin).
- Corgi, in French, Corgis in English and Corgwn in Welsh. Corgwn might look cute but they are rather bitey.
- Corgii? Probably little yappy mutts though.
- Corgis (from the Welsh) – Brewers Dictionary side steps the issue and refers to them as “corgi dogs” – I would side step the dogs. [And the leavings thereof]
- Corgis (It’s never generally used though as only QEII is silly enough to have more than one)
- Corgis. A group is called a swaddle. A swaddle of Corgis.
- Corgis. Or maybe, because corgis are descended from Icelandic sheepdogs, it should be “Short-legged Icelandic sheepdogs”
- Corgu. Were these dogs bred to be specifically unattractive just so they’d fit in with all things British?
- corguses? corgi? corgis? corgies? stop me if im getting close at all…
- CORGWN . . . Pronounced “Core” “Goon”. . . Almost as bad as that French Canadian athlete Roy, pronounced “Wah”.
- Corgwn. ‘m svng ll my vwls t gv t Wlsh fmly tht hs nn
- Corgwn. Or ratpack.
- Corgwn. Welsh word originally translated as “B—-y dog’s just gone and [(good thing Welsh is almost incomprehensible)]”
- Depends on how plural they are. One corgi, two battered savs, 6000 bloated, barking rats, o Jesus they’re swarming over me, get em orf, get em orf, get em orf eeeeeeaaahhhhh
- Fat? actually corgis. Or is it a calvalcade of corgis???
- First person plural or third person plural? I believe it goes Corgum, Corgum, Corgi, Corgamus, Corgatus, Corgant or “Romans Go Home!” or something like that.
- I quite like “corgii” as in the family of “radii” BUT “corguloes” as in “tomatoes” has a nice ring to it.
- More than one corgi.
- Pembroke or Cardigan? Sorry, you wear cardigans. The official corgi web site says the plural of corgi is corgis, which should be good enough for most people, but oh no!, not Dr Bob. So I checked the Shorter Oxford English dictionary, 2nd edition, supplement which did not provide the plural option, but it did remind me that corgi is Welsh. So I thought ah ha! Speaking Welsh fluently, as I do (not) I looked it up in the Shorter University of Wales Welsh dictionary and discovered that the plural of corgi is …..corgi. All that excitement. Nearly too much for me. Alternatively, however, the plural of corgi is also corgwn or, depending on which way the wind is blowing or the state of the tides, corgiaid (with those two little dots over the first i which I can do in word but not here, curse it).
- Some picture question! Wait, no, this is a TRICK picture question. There is only one of the dogs, therefore there is no plural nessecary! Though according to the dictionary(.com), it’s corgis.
- The masculine plural is corgim and the feminine is corgiot.
- The traditional dog of royalty was not always the corgi. Up until an incident in the early 17th century it was the rottweiler, and after that it became the golden retriever. In the 19th century they discovered that golden retrievers could be used as seeing eye dogs, and there was a shortage of the dog all over the world. The King of the time being a forward thinking individual sold the dogs for a high price, and bought the cheapest dog available at the time (the corgi, plural corgies). Unfortunately the price of the corgi dropped even further and to this day no one cares about the token of a dog.
- When visiting London, practically once a month, I stay at Hilton Green Park, along Piccadilly. Early in the morning I go jogging through the park and pass Buckingham Palace on the way. Never see the corgies getting being walked. What IS going on? Does anyone give those those dogs exercise? I am getting seriously concerned about their welfare.
- “apples and oranges”. There are quizzes, and then there are these things that “Dr BOB” gives us. And we’re really comparing Bob’s apples to Aunt May’s oranges. And the question isn’t which one has more taste, but who has more balls. Bob asks questions even he knows not the answer to. Which means he’s about as intelligent as…
- A good friend of mine, Win Fowles, put me on to your site. [… are you sure he’s a friend?] I thoroughly enjoyed participating and will continue in the future.
- Advice please, Dr Bob. An article in the ‘Sunshine Coast Daily’ on 7 October breathlessly reported the claims of one Victor Tracey, a local numerologist, that the numbers pointed to a Labor election win. Having sold my house and pawned the car, watch, wife etc to bet on Latham, and lost the lot, should I sue Mr Tracey or the newspaper? Or the ‘journalist’? (Naturally, I cannot accept any personal responsibility nor acknowledge any accusations of gullibility or downright stupidity on my part. My misfortune must be someone else’s fault.)
- Another good quiz, Dr Bob. Actually doable for a change, however, only once one had worked out that the October questions were masquerading as the September questions. Good one, Dr Bob, it only cost me a week. Now if I can only find the answer to Question 2, I will have all 6 wrong again.
- Been a while since I did the quiz so I thought I would submit a load of crap answers because I am too bloody lazy to bother googling for answers, also it is late and I’m tired and ..ah bugger it..
- Congrats to Australia on concluding another successful national election. The quadrennial agony in the USA will soon be over (so we can concentrate on more significant stuff like American football).
- Corgy in plural in Finnish is ‘corgit’. By the way, this is not the September quiz, is it? I’m writing this silly message just to test, if the connection works this time.
- Good grief, where has the year gone? It’s less than two months to Christmas, and I haven’t started wiring the claymores yet…..
- Hmm, some easy, some hard.
- How’s that, you win a quiz and immediately miss the next. Such things happen when it’s last day of the month, you’re in the midst of nowhere on holidays and the laptop decides to give up the ghost.
- I get the feeling this months were your best yet that i have had the interesting experience of answering.
- I keep thinking that someday I’ll look this stuff up before I make up answers, but then I think ‘what would be the fun in that’?
- I know what “bated breath” means but what is unbated (or I assume unabated) breath. Is it an exhalation from the (front) end of a corgi?
- I noticed the lift buttons at work light up different colours, green for up & red for down. Hmmm. So using the psychology behind bank slips (deposit=green=good & withdrawal=red=bad), going to work is good, and going home is bad.
- I tried to go search engine free. I think I better stick with Googling (<–Noun used as verb, at least this time I added ‘ing’) first.
- I will pay the grand sum of $50 AUD to anyone here who wishes to complete a horrible assignment on ‘perspectives on bacterial pathogenesis’ for me. Pretty please? [OK here goes. How many words did you want? Perspectives on Bacterial Pathogenesis Bacterial pathogenesis occurs in many countries, including Iceland. Iceland is a large island in the North Atlantic Ocean. Its capital Reykjavik, with a population of 135,000, situated on the west side of the island is a touristic attraction not least for its unique Icelandic history, bizarre method of foundation and cosmic piss-ups. Further north….]
- I wonder if beheaded corgi pies go well with tomato ketchup?
- Iceland is cool! So, do I win or what? 😀
- i’m obviously no einstien
- It’s time to clip my toenails. Giddyup!
- Making up history is fun, and these questions were even more fun because they allowed for it, keep them coming.
- Maybe you’ve been in the sun too long!
- Not bad , mine a poor effory
- Obvious Nazi joke…Check. Obvious “The Chinese eat dogs” joke…Check. Stealing from others’ answers…Check. Ha. I spelled “Obvious” correctly three times. Now you can not make fun of my spelling, like you did last month.
- OK, Dr. Bob I want to be listed under the correct comments this month so I’m giving you a pi^2 (scale of 1 to 10) on this quiz!
- Please rescue me from my boring and pathetic wage-slave life.
- See – I didn’t google for no. 5 and you get a crap answer.
- sorry about the answers to Q2 & Q6 – I stumbled across what is apparently correct information – it won’t happen again.
- Sorry you didn’t win the kit house raffle [I bet you’re even more sorry that YOU didn’t win it] …… but the Great Escape raised $130K for Cystic Fibrosis thanks in part to you. [Well, in very small part]
- There have got to be better/easier things to do on a hungover sunday.
- These are relly silly questions.
- Why won’t nobody in Australia want to see Peter Greenaway’s “Tulse Luper Suitcases”?
- You must be slipping up, I actually found one answer with just a google search! (Yes, that would be the one I got right). The rest are my usual wild guesses.
- ‘Veni, Vidi, Velcro’ – I came, I saw, I stuck around.