The Quiz Thread

[mjmooney]

I assume there's a gentleman's (and gentle ladies) agreement that this thread is done without using google yeah?

 

Definitely, or the thread is pointless.

 

 

I think Ivan is correct about Dar. EDIT: Obviously not.

Edited November 18, 2013 by mjmooney

[mjmooney]

 

BY THE old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' lazy at the sea,

There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;

For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:

"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay! "

Come you back to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay:

Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay ?

On the road to Mandalay,

Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!

'Er petticoat was yaller an' 'er little cap was green,

An' 'er name was Supi-yaw-lat - jes' the same as Theebaw's Queen,

An' I seed her first a-smokin' of a whackin' white cheroot,

An' a-wastin' Christian kisses on an 'eathen idol's foot:

Bloomin' idol made o' mud

Wot they called the Great Gawd Budd

Plucky lot she cared for idols when I kissed 'er where she stud!

On the road to Mandalay...

When the mist was on the rice-fields an' the sun was droppin' slow,

She'd git 'er little banjo an' she'd sing "Kulla-lo-lo!

With 'er arm upon my shoulder an' 'er cheek agin my cheek

We useter watch the steamers an' the hathis pilin' teak.

Elephints a-pilin' teak

In the sludgy, squdgy creek,

Where the silence 'ung that 'eavy you was 'arf afraid to speak!

On the road to Mandalay...

But that's all shove be'ind me - long ago an' fur away

An' there ain't no 'busses runnin' from the Bank to Mandalay;

An' I'm learnin' 'ere in London what the ten-year soldier tells:

"If you've 'eard the East a-callin', you won't never 'eed naught else."

No! you won't 'eed nothin' else

But them spicy garlic smells,

An' the sunshine an' the palm-trees an' the tinkly temple-bells;

On the road to Mandalay...

I am sick o' wastin' leather on these gritty pavin'-stones,

An' the blasted English drizzle wakes the fever in my bones;

Tho' I walks with fifty 'ousemaids outer Chelsea to the Strand,

An' they talks a lot o' lovin', but wot do they understand?

Beefy face an' grubby 'and -

Law! wot do they understand?

I've a neater, sweeter maiden in a cleaner, greener land!

On the road to Mandalay...

Ship me somewheres east of Suez, where the best is like the worst,

Where there aren't no Ten Commandments an' a man can raise a thirst;

For the temple-bells are callin', an' it's there that I would be

By the old Moulmein Pagoda, looking lazy at the sea;

On the road to Mandalay,

Where the old Flotilla lay,

With our sick beneath the awnings when we went to Mandalay!

O the road to Mandalay,

Where the flyin'-fishes play,

An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay !

 

 

What in fack's name

 

 

Kipling.

 

Massively politically incorrect these days, obviously, but as a Victorian time capsule, I love it. 

[legov]

He was born in India. That's something I didn't know.

 

(I don't pay much attention to Victorian snobs )

[mjmooney]

He was born in India. That's something I didn't know.

 

(I don't pay much attention to Victorian snobs )

 

Not sure I'd call Kipling a snob. Poems like the above (and all the other Barrack Room Ballads) show a deep affection for the-rank-and-file British soldier, rather than aristocratic class attitudes.

 

Sure, he was a racist, but everybody was a racist then, it was the accepted mindset. Even bloody Gandhi was a racist.

Tommy

   I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
   The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
   The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
   I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
       O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
       But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
       The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
       O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

   I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
   They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
   They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
   But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
       For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
       But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
       The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
       O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
   Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
   An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
   Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
       Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
       But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
       The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
       O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

   We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
   But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
   An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
   Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
       While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
       But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
       There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
       O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

   You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
   We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
   Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
   The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
       For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
       But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
       An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
       An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool--you bet that Tommy sees!

Gunga Din

   You may talk o' gin and beer
   When you're quartered safe out 'ere,
   An' you're sent to penny-fights an' Aldershot it;
   But when it comes to slaughter
   You will do your work on water,
   An' you'll lick the bloomin' boots of 'im that's got it.
   Now in Injia's sunny clime,
   Where I used to spend my time
   A-servin' of 'Er Majesty the Queen,
   Of all them blackfaced crew
   The finest man I knew
   Was our regimental bhisti, Gunga Din.
         He was "Din! Din! Din!
     You limpin' lump o' brick-dust, Gunga Din!
         Hi! slippery hitherao!
         Water, get it!  Panee lao!
     You squidgy-nosed old idol, Gunga Din."

   The uniform 'e wore
   Was nothin' much before,
   An' rather less than 'arf o' that be'ind,
   For a piece o' twisty rag
   An' a goatskin water-bag
   Was all the field-equipment 'e could find.
   When the sweatin' troop-train lay
   In a sidin' through the day,
   Where the 'eat would make your bloomin' eyebrows crawl,
   We shouted "Harry By!"
   Till our throats were bricky-dry,
   Then we wopped 'im 'cause 'e couldn't serve us all.
         It was "Din! Din! Din!
     You 'eathen, where the mischief 'ave you been?
         You put some juldee in it
         Or I'll marrow you this minute
     If you don't fill up my helmet, Gunga Din!"

'E would dot an' carry one
   Till the longest day was done;
   An' 'e didn't seem to know the use o' fear.
   If we charged or broke or cut,
   You could bet your bloomin' nut,
   'E'd be waitin' fifty paces right flank rear.
   With 'is mussick on 'is back,
   'E would skip with our attack,
   An' watch us till the bugles made "Retire",
   An' for all 'is dirty 'ide
   'E was white, clear white, inside
   When 'e went to tend the wounded under fire!
         It was "Din! Din! Din!"
     With the bullets kickin' dust-spots on the green.
         When the cartridges ran out,
         You could hear the front-files shout,
     "Hi! ammunition-mules an' Gunga Din!"

   I shan't forgit the night
   When I dropped be'ind the fight
   With a bullet where my belt-plate should 'a' been.
   I was chokin' mad with thirst,
   An' the man that spied me first
   Was our good old grinnin', gruntin' Gunga Din.
   'E lifted up my 'ead,
   An' he plugged me where I bled,
   An' 'e guv me 'arf-a-pint o' water-green:
   It was crawlin' and it stunk,
   But of all the drinks I've drunk,
   I'm gratefullest to one from Gunga Din.
         It was "Din! Din! Din!
     'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
         'E's chawin' up the ground,
         An' 'e's kickin' all around:
     For Gawd's sake git the water, Gunga Din!"

   'E carried me away
   To where a dooli lay,
   An' a bullet come an' drilled the beggar clean.
   'E put me safe inside,
   An' just before 'e died,
   "I 'ope you liked your drink", sez Gunga Din.
   So I'll meet 'im later on
   At the place where 'e is gone--
   Where it's always double drill and no canteen;
   'E'll be squattin' on the coals
   Givin' drink to poor damned souls,
   An' I'll get a swig in hell from Gunga Din!
         Yes, Din! Din! Din!
     You Lazarushian-leather Gunga Din!
         Though I've belted you and flayed you,
         By the livin' Gawd that made you,
     You're a better man than I am, Gunga Din!

Edited November 18, 2013 by mjmooney

[legov]

I'm just saying, Victorian literature...not really my thing. Not at this stage of my life anyway.

[mjmooney]

I'm just saying, Victorian literature...not really my thing. Not at this stage of my life anyway.

 

Tsk. Sir Stamford Raffles will be spinning in his grave...

 

[Cizzler]

I assume there's a gentleman's (and gentle ladies) agreement that this thread is done without using google yeah?

On that basis, anyone know the capital of Tanzania?

 

Dodoma?

 

I'm normally pretty solid on capitals that aren't in the Pacific islands.

Edited November 18, 2013 by Cizzler

[BOF]

 

I assume there's a gentleman's (and gentle ladies) agreement that this thread is done without using google yeah?

On that basis, anyone know the capital of Tanzania?

 

Dodoma?

 

I'm pretty solid on capitals that aren't Pacific islands.

 

There it is. Swine I'd also have that caveat too

[BOF]

A slightly easier one then.  La Paz is a capital of Bolivia.  What's the other one?  And while we're at it (no google now remember), what's the capital of South Sudan?

[mjmooney]

No idea on those two BOF.

 

But there's bound to be a place in Bolivia called Concepción, so I'll try that.

[BOF]

There is a Concepción in Bolivia but it's not a capital. Good guess though. A quizzers guess

[AVFC_Hitz]

Sucre

[BOF]

Sweet.

[AVFC_Hitz]

I've known that for years, it's one of those questions that I always wanted to come up in a quiz. It never has 

[bickster]

Which is the book most stolen from Foyles bookshop in London?

[BOF]

You mean ever or in the last few years? I'll go with bible or twilight depending on the answer

[bickster]

You mean ever or in the last few years? I'll go with bible or twilight depending on the answer

I'm not sure of the timespan to be honest but no neither is correct. As my daughter pointed out to me, why steal a bible when you can get them free in most hotel rooms

[Nigel]

Id say the Karma Sutra

[bickster]

Id say the Karma Sutra

Usally a rather large book and thus harder to stick up ones jumper! Wrong

[BOF]

I didn't go with KS because of that very reason.  50 shades of grey?  It's gonna be sex related