Recent content by curlycrouton

That'd be a fantastic idea, and a welcome inversion of what I'm sure has become an accepted convention of the character among some. Unfortunately, Steven Moffat is an inherently misogynistic writer, and even if the Doctor were to be a woman (which is unlikely), I doubt she would be a...

It seems your medical knowledge vastly eclipses mine, I'm going to go ahead and assume you're right. Thank you! I shall now view/read about scenes of strangulation with far less skepticism. At the very least this means I'll be able to enjoy the beginning of The Return of the King more.

Watch every episode of Peep Show, then watch every episode of Peep Show again, then watch as you relate every single event of your life to an episode of Peep Show. Did I mention Peep Show? Here, I'll get you started.

That sounds to me as though he was utilising irony.

Vertebral arteries still transport oxygen to the brain, so although blocking of the carotid arteries would impede blood flow and therefore oxygen supply, it wouldn't cut it off completely. It's still a slow death, I believe.

Every time I see somebody die of strangulation within about 5 seconds in any film/book/game. It takes about 20 minutes of continuous airway blockage to cause somebody to die of strangulation. 10 minutes or so would cause brain damage. But the strangling "deaths" in films would, in reality, just...

There's something about a cold bottle. A certain traditional appeal. Especially these.

"Ahh... a noble sentiment indeed." He was lost in silent contemplation for a moment, before snapping back to reality once more. "Ireland... well that's quite a story. For a long time I'd have fought to the death for the emerald isle, in fact it's most likely I'd be doing exactly that right...

"Oh... probably shouldn't have told you that... My thanks for keeping it a secret.". He reached in his back pocket for some matches, throwing them into Luke's awaiting grasp. "Lighters are a rare commodity these days. Although I think I saw that young Nordic-looking fellow with a Zippo earlier...

Something personal, or something to do with a little private joke you two have, and something expensive. Classic combination, never fails.

"A carpenter, eh? What a fine collection of well-drilled military personnel we have assembled here!" Michael laughed bitterly, but quickly began to hack and cough. Regaining a state of equilibrium, he held out a hand. "Vallon. Michael Vallon. Irish, in case you hadn't noticed." He leaned in...

Michael ran his hands over his face in exasperation, greying stubble feeling rough as sandpaper against his palm. Relaxing his body somewhat, he turned to survey his fellow troops. There were a few who were evidently of fighting stock, others who'd be more at home behind a desk than a parapet...