Okay! Thanks guys.

Between the show’s first airing and 2009, most of the characters’ names saw an increase in popularity. Those that didn’t were already popular names to begin with, so the only real exception is Shannon, whose popularity plummeted after 2004 (this is mostly because her character is a bit of an arsehole). SHUT UP HERE IS THE FACT BOX.

Sawyer / +116% to 202nd
Juliet / +103% to 319th
Claire / +85% to 53rd
Miles / +36% to 162nd
Charlie / +28% to 274th
Desmond / +21% to 384th
Aaron / -2% to 54th
Kate / -8% to 89th
Hugo / -11% to 409th
Shannon / -55% to 565th

Sawyer is now the 202nd most popular baby name in the United States. The 201st is Stephen. Nobody has called a baby “The Black Smoke Monster” yet.

As you can see, converting from Bison Dollars to British Pounds is a complicated task, as the exchange rate is mostly dependent on whether or not M. Bison has yet kidnapped the Queen. To help you (and Sagat!) with the conversion, Log and I have put together this handy cut-out-and-keep conversion tool.

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BISON DOLLARS CURRENCY CONVERTER

Insert your Bison Dollars here:

“Ahhhhhhh,” screamed Byzantine Woman. “Ahhhhhhhh.”

“Hey there, Byzantine Woman reporting for duty.”

“What is the matter?” asked her husband, whom she had roused from his sleep. He was squat and hirsute, but damningly attractive. Byzantine Woman loved him furiously.

“I had that dream again,” admitted Byzantine Woman. “The one where I’m in the Battle of Levounion, and one of those dastardly Pechenegs runs up to me and punches me on the nose.” She was saying all of this in Greek, because that was the language she and everybody else in Byzantium spoke in the year that it was, which was 1099. “It’s strange how other people call this city Constantinople,” she cried as she rolled over to turn away from her husband, who was now proudly standing on the bed and glaring down at her.

“I have to go to work,” he announced dryly. “I have to go to work as a pedlar down by the Hagia Sophia, the largest cathedral in the world. It will probably remain so for another 400 years, I suppose.” He turned and strode purposefully off the bed. “Now don’t you have any more bad dreams about the Pechenegs. What if Alexios I Komnenos heard you talking like that? Ha! Ha!” He slipped into his robes and his chlamys (a type of cloak that goes over the left shoulder) before marching out the door. Byzantine Woman was alone in bed now. She didn’t have a duvet. She had a coarse blanket made from wool and, I think, linen.

“Hi, I defeated the Pechenegs with the help of my Cuman allies.”

Byzantine Woman extricated herself from her bed. “Terracotta tiles!” she exclaimed as she padded her feet excitedly on the bedroom floor, which was like many floors of the time. As she crossed the room she passed the window. “No glass,” she muttered thoughtfully as she placed her hands on her hips and swivelled, first left, and then right, surveying her surroundings until her attention returned to the window. The shutters were open, so she cheerfully gazed down at the busy street below. She didn’t have anything to do today save some shopping at the market, which she’d do by putting things in a pot that she would carry on her head.

“Oh what,” breathed Byzantine Woman as she narrowed her eyes. She thought she had seen a dog staring at her from the stone-paved road, but it was obscured now by the hustle and bustle. But there! An opening in the crowd revealed the dog once more! “Jeez oh jeez,” whispered Byzantine Woman as the dog’s eyes continued to burrow into her very consciousness. Burrowing, burrowing, burrowing. She was transfixed!

The dog on the street, still staring, began to slowly open its mouth.

Get a grip! Byzantine Woman!

Byzantine Woman could not look away. It was as though her head was trapped in a tightening vice. A faltering step backwards left the dog still in full view. The crowd and the street had faded to nothing, and the dog had become a flickering harbinger of death. The maw was fully open now. Screaming filled the ears of Byzantine Woman. The dog was in the room with her. Now the room was gone. The dog remained, staring. Now the dog was gone. But there was still the screaming. Then the dog came back.

“Ahhhhh,” screamed Byzantine Woman. “Ahhhhhhhhh the dog!”

“WHAT’S WRONG?” shouted her husband as he shook her back into wakefulness. It had all been a nightmare. “DOGS HAVE SO MUCH RABIES IN THIS CENTURY.”

WHAT WILL BECOME OF BYZANTINE WOMAN FIND OUT NEXT TIME ON BYZANTINE WOMAN

duck.jpeg

[See post to listen to audio]

You have mail! Hahahahaha. Quack quack. Love it.

That one makes sense in context, that’s like Shakespeare making up words. I am pretty much like Shakespeare with that one. Here’s another one I did though.

Croaked his smokes is not a thing.

I am available for freelance work.

See if you can guess whether the following statement is true or false, without looking at the image with the word ‘TRUE’ on it a few inches below this, or thinking about why I might post screenshots of a TV show that I wasn’t on. Here we go: “Was the back of my head visible on tonight’s episode of Would I Lie To You?”

Yes it was!

That’s both the front and back of my head that have been on BBC One now. The full three-sixty.

That’s how often the different decades of people are being mentioned on the internet. We can interpret this information in many different ways, including the ways in which I’m about to. There are three points of interest here.

1. Being In Your Thirties is The Least Remarkable Thing.
A popular tricenarian is probably Dara Ó Briain from Mock the Week. But there are no search results for “dara ó briain the tricenarian”.

2. There Is An Awed Hush In The Run Up To One Hundred.
This is around the time when people should perhaps be dead, and a ten year drumroll, whether metaphorical or literal, would be deemed by many to be inappropriate.

3. Octogenarian is the one everybody knows.
So shut up.

Hold the phone who is that hottie with the camera?!

I must keep my eyes clothes to avoid further hottie-distractions.