#snooker rules

[sir-paddington]

A-N HE PLAYING

PLAYING LIKE A PRO

[alpha-mag-media]

Former world snooker champions Stephen Hendry and Shaun Murphy propose major rule change at UK Championship | In Trend Today

Former world snooker champions Stephen Hendry and Shaun Murphy propose major rule change at UK Championship Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[truth4ourfreedom]

COURT RULES THAT COVID VACCINES ARE BIOWEAPONS!!

The Injection Put into People’s Arms Instructs the Human Body to Manufacture a SCHEDULED TOXIN Dr. David Martin explains why the COVID shots are actually bioweapons, not vaccines.

• Pfizer BioNTech and Moderna explicitly described mRNA as an experimental gene therapy in their SEC filings.

• Coronavirus fragments were described as “bio-warfare enabling technology” at a 2005 DARPA conference.

• According to 7 CFR Part 331, the spike protein associated with any modification of coronavirus is classified as a biological weapon.

• The injections instruct the human body to manufacture a scheduled toxin (spike protein).

-----------------------------------------

It's all beginning to make sense after 4 years! I developed heart problems after recieving the Pfizer vaccines and my wife developed a rare heart condition after the Moderna vaccines. We were all snookered into believing that big Pharma and our Big Brother government actually had our best interests in heart when in actuality, we were all subjects in a massive worldwide experiment. Very sad days indeed! Big Pharma cannot be trusted!

[kurthummeldeservesbetter]

more jayvik headcanons

Viktor can swim and is pretty good at it, learned ways to do it despite his leg not cooperating properly and the pool feels good on his body. Just doesn't have time + access and doesn't want to be around people (they splash). (learned it out of survival)

Jayce can "swim". He can survive if you throw him in water. Motherfucker sinks. He likes being in the pool, just at waist level. Loves a good game of pool volleyball. (Caitlyn always wins). Prefers to lay on a float.

Both prefer lakes/seas to pools, the waves are soothing. (Just don't go out too deep, Jayce!)

Both, despite what you may think about Jayce, are incredibly introverted. Jayce can fake it for galas because it earns them money and he can talk about the things he's passionate about, but he has to go home right after and decompress for at least 24hours. The list of people they don't need to decompress after talking to is less than 10 individuals between the both of them.

Viktor is good at pool/billiards/snooker and other classic "bar" games/activities. He's, however, inept at arcade games, because by the time Zaun had an actual arcade, he was in Piltover.

Jayce is good at arcade games and card games. Knows at least 20 different games you can play with one deck and often does solitaire just to destress.

Both are good at sewing and any fine-motor skills that require concentration + coordination.

However, both are inept at any "sport". Jayce can't aim or kick for shit and Viktor never learned any sports anyways. Neither of them care. They also don't like watching sports or listening to them on the radios; neither of them care to learn any of the rules. these men are nerds.

Jayce does both their hair. By that, he styles and cuts his hair, and when Viktor allows him to, cuts Viktor's hair. Neither of them have paid for a haircut in years.

Neither of them can hide their dislike for people very well. Jayce can fake it slightly better, but anytime someone says something out of pocket he is JUDGING with his whole face.

Jayce snores. Viktor talks in his sleep. Both sleep dead to the world.

Do not ask Viktor to bartend at your party unless you want all your alcohol gone by the end of the night. "Single" drinks do not exist for him. Everything is a double or triple. They taste great though.

Jayce loves tea. Viktor is less of a fan, prefers sweetened coffees. They have a million bags of different kinds of both at home.

Both love gardening but can't keep a plant alive, even when they aren't testing it. Green thumbs do not exist for Jayvik.

They actually don't argue about a lot; it's mostly when Jayce doesn't tell him things about the council/things he did while he was on the council, or things Viktor kept secret (hiding stuff making him sick, not telling Jayce full truths) but they work it out.

[innuendostudios]

New video essay! On the Reverse Gish Gallop - how conservatives can ignore 90% of your argument and still appear to be winning.

If you would like more of this, subscribe to Nebula and/or back me on Patreon!

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re watching a political debate on TV. The conservative candidate has used their opening arguments to dump a truckload of dubious claims on their opponent. You recognize this maneuver: that’s the Gish Gallop! The debater makes point after dubious point, and, if the other debater doesn’t rebut every single one, they will appear to have lost the argument. These points don’t have to be good or hard to disprove, there just has to be a lot of them.

Oh, but what’s this? The liberal candidate seems to have come prepared! That’s new! They succinctly and efficiently dismantle each of their opponent’s arguments, offering a clear rebuttal to every single one. It’s obviously not the first time they’ve heard this particular gallop. So, the conservative’s petard has just fully hoisted them. [“What a hoisting!”] They’ve just lost their own game and have to go on the defensive… right?

Turns out, no! The conservative points to a minor error - maybe the liberal said their program would cost $40 million but is actually estimated to cost 43 - and treats them as an ignorant sap who can’t even count correctly. That is now the subject, everything else has been forgotten, and the liberal is backpedaling.

Wait, you exclaim, how does that work?! The liberal has to rebut each and every point but the conservative takes issue with one and stays in the driver’s seat? Are audiences fooled by this? Are liberals that easily snookered? The answer may shock you!

You’ve just borne witness to The Reverse Gish Gallop, where an entire argument falls apart if any of it can be disputed. These disputes, again, don’t have to be good, they just have to call the airtightness of the argument into question.

A good example is how conservatives obsess over gaffes. (Which, fuckin’... really guys?? [W, Trump]) Some Democrat will be all “conservatives want to shut down post offices as a form of vote suppression; they’re pushing voter ID laws and the post office is where many people get IDs; also we are relying more and more heavily on mail-in voting; they overwhelmingly try to shut down offices in Black and Latine neighborhoods; a lot of services like healthcare and courts still use physical mail by default and there can be serious consequences to getting it late; many elderly people still don’t use email, and, hey, maybe some of them like getting junk mail” “AH BA BA BA THAT’S IT THAT’S YOUR WHOLE LIFE NOW FOR THE REST OF YOUR CAREER YOU’RE THE ASSHOLE WHO SAID OLD PEOPLE LIKE JUNK MAIL.”

Your mistake was assuming that dishonest people abide by the same rules they impose on everyone else. When I was a teenager, some friends of the family would invite me along when they asked my parents to dinner, because I would play with their five-year-old and let the grown-ups chat in peace. And he’d make up games where we’d bat a balloon back and forth or whatever, and change the rules on the fly when it suited him. Because the rule wasn’t actually “you can only touch the balloon once per turn;” the rule was “Andrew wins.”

The purpose of a Gish Gallop is to establish a narrative not through argument or logic but force and volume. Once established, it takes a lot less effort for them to maintain than for you to establish a new one. If they shake confidence in your argument, the audience will often revert to the previous argument, whether or not that one was ever proven. It’s a not about which story is true, it’s about who sets the parameters for all stories going forward; who got there first. This is not a debate; this is a Zerg Rush. Understand: a dishonest argument is Lego - you haven’t dismantled it until every brick is separated. But an honest rebuttal? An honest rebuttal is Jenga.

[leletha-jann]

Apropos of nothing... (not a hint or a spoiler, just a thought)

Eventually Seffie's going to realize that Tarvek snookered her entire "marry Gil, rule the Empire" plan out from under her, and god I hope I'm there to watch the dawning realization cross her face.

Like, I like Seffie for who she is. But I don't like her so much that I'm not going to enjoy the hell out of the facial expressions.

[sportsallover]

To be updated again tomorrow (or Friday) if I get back to it. (This is looking very likely.)

Terminology update: I have actually figured out that the white ball is called the cue ball and that the holes are either the cushions (not completely sure here, it could just be the sides of the table) or… something else that I have actually already forgotten. 🙈

[nohoperadio]

If I was going to make one change to the rules of snooker it would be this: after a player takes their turn the other player has to roll their eyes, snatch the cue out of their hands while saying "no no no, you gotta do it like this", then take their own turn. Then the first player grabs it back like "no come on, that's not it, it's like this...", etc. And ideally their exasperation would keep escalating over the course of the game.

[justmystical]

The Forgotten-3

Pairing: Lucifer x Butterfly!Fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Stsr vs the forces of evil

Warnings: takes place before Hazbin Hotel, Alternative Universe

One | Two| Navigation | four

You and Lucifer were Currently hanging out in your usually spot below an apple tree, Lucifer was reading a book and petting Keekee. Something he does so often when you guys hang together.

As for you, you were currently hanging upside from the apple tree and thinking was a good thing to do on this fine afternoon. Not gonna lie you were bored, to the point you would learn more spells from the family spell book.

Then you remembered

You were currently getting snacks for both of you and Lucifer, come on apple all the time and your craving some chocolate. Do they have Snookers on earth? No they don't,

maybe a Mewni thing? But SNOOKERS!

You then read about festival that's gonna be held at night in a poster outside of a shop...

You suddenly jumped out from the tree,which nearly gave poor Lucifer and Keekee a heart attack,you gave them a nervous smile.

"i just remembered there's a festival in this Village later , we should go" you suggested, while Keekee looked intrigued, Lucifer froze and debated to join.

"I don't know..."

You noticed this and nudge Lucifer shoulders" hey come on it will be fun...and it's my first festival ever!"you said and he looked at you with a raised eyebrow.

"first?"

"yeah,i never been to festival before" it's true though you been to one,you were always cooped up inside the Castle for protection, monsters roam around a lot so as a Princess of Mewni you and Eclipsa need to protected.

"aren't you like in your early 20s, and you still couldn't go?" He pointed out .

"I'm a busy lady"Busy as in studying magic with Glossaryck , because you late be taught, unlike Eclipsa,she was taught when she was Fourteen until she became Queen. You were taught later on...

"please Luci"Lucifer wanted to agree,but some of people here have Guardian angels and he was doomed if he was caught, you see he was forbidden to even go to earth. He only break those rules for you...

"come on Luci"you gave him puppy dog eyes he couldn't resist.

Ugh the things you do to me

He finally agreed, you jump up and down not notice the root Of the tree and you stumbled on it , falling on top of Lucifer.

Oof

You felt his chest under you and his hot breath on your face ,you looked at his eyes.You two looked at each other as if time stopped and nothing was around you two .

You felt fireworks as held you...

Then the moment was suddenly interrupted by a Meow and saw your Beloved companion in her little earth form.

You the realized you were on top of Lucifer,you stood up quickly , feeling the heat of your face spread .

"c-c-come o-on we s-should go!"you stuttered and ran away quickly as Keekee followed.

Lucifer stood there stunned... also blushing

You walked through the sea people with Lucifer in the festival. You were having the best night of your life trying different foods from different stalls. Keekee was also happy being fed .

As for Lucifer he looked like he was hiding for someone ? He wore a cloak and the hood was on, he was being cautious around other people...

Does he not like going outside in the crowd?

Maybe you should have listened to him not go to the Festival?

Maybe the he didn't agreed at first is because he's not good with crowds?

Then suddenly you got an idea.

"Keekee, can you watch Lucifer for a while?i gonna do something okay?"Keekee was hesitant at first. She was made to protect you at all cost,that why she neve leaves your side...

"oh come on Keekee it'll be quick,and if anything happens I'll shout" Keekee still feels the need to go with you,but she sense a bound between you and the King of Hell. Ofcourse Keekee knew...

She felt the energy radiating from him since day one.But some reason she didn't find him a danger to her wielder....

At the end she agreed...

Lucifer knows he fucked, Ultimately fucked,he sense angelic auras everywhere. He may have hid his demonic aura but he knew one slip up they'd find him and report back to heaven.

But he couldn't say no to you...

He saw how your eye's sparkle at every stall and every games in the festival.

He suddenly froze, a old man walks pass by him and he saw a guardian angel floating by his side.

He screwed...

But some reason he wasn't seen...

He felt something soft brush his legs and looked down to see a cat with cat with a scar on the left eye...

Keekee...

Speaking of Keekee...

Where's n/n?

He looked around and started to panic , until Keekee nudge his leg. She pointed with her paw to a direction and he followed.

She began to guide Lucifer to your whereabouts.

Until they saw you talking to a vendor of...

Lanterns?

He walked up to you ,you smile when you saw him.

"surprise!" You hand him a lantern.

"what this?"he asked

"a lantern"

"yeah,but?"

"just follow me " you suddenly grabbed his hand and walked to a cliff in a fast pace.

Your long red hair flowed through the air as your Turquoise eyes sparkle.

"let's lit this Lanterns up" you told him and he only nodded.

"i saw you feeling uncomfortable earlier so hopefully this lantern can help?it always makes me feel better. My father always make me and my sister these when i was little..."you explained only looking at the Lanterns float away.

Lucifer looked at the beautiful Lanterns float away but nothing can compare to your smile...

"thanks n/n"

"huh?oh... You're welcome Luci!"

You just got back from earth and fell down to your bed with a groan, you enjoyed the festival with Lucifer...

But you remembered what happened earlier before that..

You felt his chest under you and his hot breath on your face ,you looked at his eyes.You two looked at each other as if time stopped and nothing was around you two

You felt fireworks as held you...

Keekee looked at you out of her Earth disguise.

"come you saw that,it was embarrassing but..."it was still in your mind

"you what time for bed!"

You got ready for bed and tomorrow is another day.

You were currently practicing some magic with Glossaryck.

"why are my ancestors spells so hard ?!"

"well how about you try out some of your spells?"he suggested and you nodded.

"Dreamer's Hallucinations"

"our of all the spell-"it hit a mirror and suddenly Glossaryck got cut off when the beam hit him.

"IT'S A POOL OF CHOCOLATE PUDDING!"

"WAIT GLOSSARYCK THAT'S NO-"he already jumped into dirty fountain in the garden.

"Magica Reverso!"you conjure another spell.

The spell before got reverse and now Glossaryck jump away from the murky fountain,he almost ate moss..

"let's not talk about that.."

"aye aye !"

"try another spell that's not included hallucinations..."

You though for a moment...then realized...

"oh i have spell that I've been working on!"it was a spell that can defend your whole entire family and everyone in mewni.

"it's a defense spell"you mentioned and Glossaryck conjured up a puppet.

You concentrate and said the spell in your head multiple times to be ready to say it , Glossaryck waited until you were ready.

"Wither and Decay Let Rose Decompose..." A dark violet beam shot out of the wand as your cheek marks looked like it was blossoming like a rose ?

Glossaryck saw this and was shocked your marks are like roses ?

The beam shot through the poor Puppets chest , roses exploded from it's chest and loud boom echoed through the whole Palace.

You marks were still glowing and now fully blossom to be a dark rose.

You watched at horror as the roses slowly consumed the poor puppet.

"n/n!" You heard sister call out in concern,she heard the loud boom from the garden,she quickly ran out of the throne room because she knows you were having magic lessons with Glossaryck.

She saw you marks,she was shocked. They were not red circles anymore but dark Roses. She also noticed a puppet?

It was slowly getting consumed by what it looked decaying roses?

The Magical High Commission also join in and saw what happened.

"WHAT HAPPENED?!?"A girl with flame ontop of her head yelled out

"what did you do?!"Romulus exclaimed.

Uh oh

Glossaryck has seen this type of spell before...

Eclipsa's

He warned her not to use that spell before,she listened ofcourse... because she was starting to grow black veins in her arms , that's why she now wears gloves...

You felt guilty as you made your sister concerned...

Everyone watched as the puppet exploded into white petals. Now your cheeks where back to a red round shape marks.

"I'm sorry..."

[sofasoap]

Interlude: Here comes the insertion specialist

Pairing: König x  f!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Don't give König ANY alcohol.

Warning: M Rated. INNUENDO, INNUENDO!  Alcohol consumption ( be responsible people), swearing, sexual theme. Slight crack fic. English isn’t my first language, there will be a lot of grammatical and tense mistake.

A/N: This is part of the world what I dubbed “ Mini MacTavish Universe”. Inspired by  @saltofmercury ’s “ “The Favorite MacTavish”. Praise her for lending me her character and universe * starry eye *. Go read her brilliant stories!

 “masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

You know König doesn't drink alcohol. No big deal. Each to their own. Maybe he just doesn't like the taste of it. What you didn't realise is he has ZERO tolerance to alcohol.

Kortac was in UK again after a successful joint operation with the SAS. To your surprise, Johnny rang you and ask if you want to travel to  Credenhill  to join the party. "That's rare, usually I have to beg you to let me tag along!"

"... The team was asking for you." " They are asking for their FAVOURITE MacTavish you mean?"

" Jesus Christ, do you want to come or not?"

" Just give me the date and I'll check my shift timetable."

You were secretly excited you will get to see König again after the chance meeting which turned into, according to Emma, a coffee date. Was that a date? You don't know. Do you like him? Maybe. For the moment you are just enjoying your time texting back and forth. ( or mainly him sending pictures of what his current little carving projects are or interesting things he notice while on mission. It's quite adorable really. )

Dropping off your luggage at the airbnb near the barrack, you make your way towards the bar frequently attended by the team. Walking in, loud noises hits you instantly. The pub was packed full of people, it's a popular spot for the SAS soldiers since the barrack isn't far off. You look around trying to find your brother. Soon enough you spot Ghost's tall figure with Johnny and Gaz playing a round of snooker. You ran up to your brother and tackled him from behind.

"Mini! you made it!" Gaz exclaimed. "What's a gathering without me livening up the atmosphere?" You high fived each other. Johnny turned around and gave you a big hug.

" How was the train ride here?" "Busy. Lucky I booked my ticket as soon as you told me about the gathering." Pointing at Ghost, " Am I allow to greet him? or is the no Ghosting rule still apply?" "What are you planning." he look at you deadpan expression. " Nothing. I am just being friendly." " Why does this sound familiar." You turned and smiled at Ghost, " Hey Simon. "

" ... Hey." " Mini." " Hey Uncle Price!" You left Johnny's embrace and went in for a hug with Price. Why does Ghost look slightly disappointed?

"Who else is here?"

Price pointed towards the table near the bar. "Some of the KorTac members are over there, the rest are scattered around." "OHh I see new people I haven't met." " MINI" Johnny and Simon chimed in same time with warning tone.

" Yes Sir, I know Sir, I will behave Sir.” You gave the boys your best salute and wondered towards the bar to order a beer. While standing at the bar, you see König, per usual, hiding at the edge of the room, trying to make himself invisible with a glass of what looks like a coke in his hand, listening to his teammate's conversation. Doing your best you try to wave to him, he spotted you, his eyes lit up and timidly waved back. Horangi saw the interaction, elbowed König and teased him a little. König duck his head down, blushing. You felt a set of eyes on you, turning around you can see Ghost looking at your direction, eyes narrowed. What's his problem?

Soon you find yourself mixing with the ladies from both teams, gossiping away. They sure have fascinating stories to tell, tales of war to suitors or love interests they meet during their missions.

".... and would you believe, their pick up line was, "“I’ve lost my teddy bear! Can I sleep with you instead?”" You laughed, " Oh gosh, that sounded like me from last time!" " Look, if it comes from you, it sounds cute, but coming from that person??" Nova made a face. " Mini, come on, got any stories to tell? Any strange pick up lines?" " Sadly no. All the boys that wants to approach me been scared off by Johnny." " Pfft, for a casanova like him, it's bit contradicting. no offense Mini."

" None taken Kleo. I know my brother is a manwhore. A gentlemanly manwhore." Everyone burst out laughing. Out of corner of your eyes, you saw König swaying a bit in his seat. No one else seems to notice. His drink nearly finish. Maybe he is tired? All of sudden, he stood up, startling the people around him, and proceed to swagger towards you, full of purpose, you will be lying if it doesn't stir the heat up a little bit down there. Cocking an eyebrow, you turned your chair towards him. Waiting for his next move. Stopping right in front of you, he leans down, hands on both side of you on the table, trapping you. Gosh, he does have beautiful blue eyes, the piercing blue eyes.... wait, is that bit of alcohol you can smell from his breath?

"Hello Schatz." He purred. "Do you know why they call me insertion specialist? because I am VERY GOOD at ramming... " his eyes flickers down towards his crotch, " THINGS... especially into people." The whole pub just went dead silent. Your jaw dropped. Is he trying to flirt with you? Hearing a loud clank noise, your eyes darts towards the snooker table, Johnny had dropped his cue, eyes wide with shock, while Ghost looks like he was about to murder certain someone with veins popping out of his forehead. Gaz was laughing his head off, smacking Price's back, making him choke. " WHO THE FUCK ADDED RUM INTO HIS COKE!!!!"

Just think of the way König walks at the character intro screen. mmmmm.

lack of sleep does this to you. Oops.

[respectthepetty]

Dangerous Romance Colors Ep. 9

I'm freaking out. I'm screaming into my fist. I'm experiencing eighty emotions at once. I'm going insane. The robbery in Dangerous Romance is finally happening, and episode nine gave me so much color! This is what heaven feels like.

It feels like Saifah in blue, and Name is bloody red.

I don't know what I did to deserve this crumb, but thank you, God! ROB THAT HOUSE 2023 IS ALIVE!

Then Nava (Nawa?) and Guy were a light vs dark color scheme (sidenote: Pawin was looking fine)

But when they met outside, the barrier between them blended their colors.

Then they put on their helmets and exchanged colors looking at stars together.

On the note of helmets, Kanghan and Sailom started off in their colors [Kanghan is a Blue Boy; Sailom is a Red Rascal]

They wore them various times throughout the episode.

But they also wore each other's colors (a color exchange)

THEN THE COLOR EXCHANGE MERGE!

Y'all know that water is PURPLE! You see it too. Red + Blue = Purple. Nid, you did it again, you big brain genius. I FUCKING LOVE YOU, SIR! I love you so much.

Then, Kanghan went to play snooker, and played a couple. The red x blue are dating. I don't make the rules.

And I love that it was snooker since it has 15 red balls and the blue ball, pink ball, and black ball have the highest point value, so basically it's a color-coded dream for our Blue Boy and Red Rascal.

Because they are definitely in love!

So I'm thrilled that next week Kanghan will trust Sailom, and by extension Saifah, and stick by Sailom's side.

Which probably means that when Kanghan catches Sailom escorting, they are very much still together.

I LOVE THIS FUCKING SHOW!

[coochiequeens]

Yet another case for SheWon.com. Not just any case, one where a grown ass white dude was allowed to compete against an 11 year old girl of color in the name of inclusiveness.

By Amy Hamm February 22, 2024

A trans-identified male is set to compete against women as the reigning Women’s Snooker Champion at the English Women’s Snooker Championship on May 24 in Walsall, UK. Jamie Hunter, 27, became the top women’s player following a semifinal victory against a young girl last year.

Hunter first rose to prominence during the English Women’s Snooker Champion finals in 2023 after he came out victorious against Mary Talbot-Deegan, finishing 3-1. Hunter had managed to make it to the finals after he beat out Ellise Scott, an 11-year-old rising star in the snooker world, taking 2-0 against her in the semifinal grouping. The event had been Scott’s debut in the tournament, and, prior to her match against Hunter, she had achieved three match victories against experienced female opponents.

Hunter had been participating in women’s cue sports since 2021, just one year after he “came out” as transgender.

Prior to transitioning, Hunter played in a mixed-sex amateur league for five years. Speaking with Snooker Zone in 2021, Hunter admitted that he had no intention of competing professionally until he discovered that there was a women’s tour.

“Until this year, cue sports was just a hobby, something I done once, maybe twice a week, but now finding out about the Women’s snooker tour, I believe that will change,” he said at the time. “They make out as if I played snooker as a man, I was rubbish, so decided to do it in the women’s instead. I changed my gender for my wellbeing and my life, not for anything else.”

Hunter received significant backlash after his 2022 US Women’s Open win, when former women’s world champion Maria Catalano criticized the policies enabling males to compete against females. In an interview with The Sportsman, Catalano argued that women’s snooker should exclude males from female categories, as some rugby leagues have, to ensure fairness for women. 

“We have fought so hard for our rights in the past – myself, Reanne Evans and others got people to write letters to allow us to play in leagues and clubs that banned women. I don’t believe that women can compete against men on a level playing field in sport. We are wired differently, we think differently. We are mentally different,” said Catalano. 

The World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association (WPBSA) publishes a mixed sex international ranking of players. The highest-ranking female on their current list, Mink Nutcharut, is listed at 119.

In response to the criticism of his wins against women, Hunter has framed the backlash as transphobia.

“Everybody’s human. Regardless of what choices you make. You should treat everybody with respect,” said Hunter speaking to a BBC journalist last fall. Bizarrely, Hunter was interviewed while he sat in a gaming chair in a dark bedroom — which he refers to as “the dark girl cave.” The room has a transgender pride flag pinned up on the wall behind him.

The upcoming English Women’s Snooker Championship is set for May 24, 2024. It is being organized by the English Partnership for Snooker and Billiards (EPSB), which is the national governing body for the sport in England. They describe their goal as creating a “structured coaching environment that will inspire all regardless of gender, ability, or ethnicity to fulfil their potential in our sport.” 

The EPSB has a diversity, equity, and inclusion policy with a lengthy section on discrimination, including a ban on any “condition, rule or practice [that]… particularly disadvantages people who share a protected characteristic.” As for their list of protected characteristics, the EPSB includes “gender, gender identity, marital status, sexual orientation, race, colour, nationality, religion, age, disability, HIV positivity, working pattern, caring responsibilities, trade union activity or political beliefs.”  

The English Women’s Championship is set to take place at the Landywood Snooker Club in Walsall, UK, on May 24.

This is not the first time a male has dominated women’s cue sports, sparking backlash from players and fans.

Last November, a female pool player refused to compete against a trans-identified male opponent at a women’s championship in Wales. Lynne Pinches received an outpouring of support as video began to circulate showing her walking away from the table after being matched to play against Chris Haynes.

Days later, two more female pool players refused to compete against Haynes in solidarity with Pinches during the Ultimate Pool tournament in Blackpool, UK.

In January, Pinches headed an effort to launch a lawsuit against the World Eightball Pool Federation (WEPF) and Ultimate Pool Group (UPG), accusing the governing bodies of subjecting women “to direct sex discrimination and harassment on the grounds of sex.”

What does he have to gain from this?

ENTRY FEES AND PRIZE MONEY

Entry: £30

Winner: £200 

Runner-Up: £100 

Semi-Finalists: £50

[plantinghobbies]

The Same Damn Thing

Part 1: We were scared of getting old and it made us restless

Join @solipsisticno1 and I on this six-part roller coaster for Valetine’s Day, based on an angsty lyric challenge that nobody asked for. New installments drop every few days, feedback fuels us!

By the time Valentina arrived, the room was over capacity and the crowd was over served, the bass so loud it felt like it was rattling her organs. She spots Matty’s curls first (she always does) and begins making her way over to her sister’s friends. She knows that description isn’t totally accurate - the couple of times she let it slip they’ve squawked at her about how she’s their friend too - but under the circumstances, it’s hard to not feel like her sister’s understudy. She’s been that her whole life.

The group is huddled at their usual table in the corner of the pub, shoulders pressed together as if it could ward off the onslaught of real-world responsibilities ready to overtake them in a few days when they leave the comforts of school, newly minted “adults”. Right now, they looked more like drunk toddlers, spilling on the table and each other as they play one last round of flip the lid. Valentina never bothered to learn the complicated rules Matty and George had made up years ago, but she knew enough to know they were near the end.

Matty’s cheeks are flushed from drink, something she’s loved ever since she first saw it at fifteen visiting her sister for the first time since she left, slept in her dorm, met her friends. Met him. It wasn’t why Val had chosen to study here as well, but it didn’t hurt. She’d been intoxicated - not just on the cheap beer, but on the camaraderie. Growing up, Val loved American sitcoms - Friends, How I Met Your Mother, Beverly Hills 90210 (though her parents didn’t know about that one) - groups of friends who take on life and then meet up on a shared couch or bar stools to recap their days - the glowing highs, the comedic lows. Together, seemingly forever. She’d enrolled here with visions of her and the gang at this very table playing flip the lid, her and Marin on morning jogs before class, her and Matty - well, just getting to exist in his orbit really, that unnamable pull that seemed to light him from within, draw people into him.

And for the first few months, her sitcom dreams and her freshman reality had aligned. She’d joined them for nights out, did sunrise yoga with the girls (apparently, someone in their dorm had read women who run age faster than non-runners. Val was very skeptical of the science behind this “study” but didn’t want to risk speaking up to challenge it) and had spent enough time with Matty to mold her blind infatuation into genuine respect and admiration. A lot of time with Matty actually. It seemed that wherever she and Marin went, Matty would follow. Even to the crochet night that Val had organized at the elder-care center, wanting to test out the new app she’d been working on that provided alternate crafting methods for people with arthritis. Not that Val was complaining - she got to be surrounded by him, even if the only logical explanation for his presence was he was trying to pull Marin. Why else would a twenty-one-year-old man choose a crochet night over helping his friends defend their snooker championship at the pub? (And the feeling seemed mutual – Marin went on and on to Val about how great Matty was, how smart, how caring). Anyone else would have done everything they could to avoid him, them, but Val was a masochist it seemed. She didn’t care why Matty was there, just that he was there.

This pathetic acknowledgement aside, everything was as it should be. Except for one thing. The golf ball sized lump that seemed to develop overnight on Marin’s thigh. Instead of spring break on the warm beaches of the Algarve, they spent it in the sterile, white-washed hospital cancer ward. Ravaged was the term the doctor kept using. We’ve never seen something like this, how quickly its’ ravaged her organs. Funny, Val thinks, even Marin’s cancer was an overachiever.

Val had wanted to stay home, especially when Marin got accepted into an experimental drug trial. Experimental meant unexpected, something none of her family were particularly good at dealing with, except Val. She had clashed with her parents who were insistent on her going back (Val felt a little bad about fighting with them when they already had so much on their plate). But where she could fight with them, she was helpless against her sister, who crawled into her bed one night and pleaded with Val to go back, to not let this disrupt her life too, to help her live vicariously through her (it’s going to be so fucking boring here, I’m going to need the escapism). They’d cried over the unfairness of it all, big crocodile tears soaking the pillowcase as they clung to each other.

So she’d returned after break, feeling unmoored and exhausted. Marin had filled everyone in, long draining teary phone calls that kept her up until all hours of the night. Val knew she’d saved Matty for last, and after it, Marin didn’t leave her room for a day. (Val’s never asked if she and Matty are just close, or close. She’s afraid to have confirmation of her fears, that once again she’s no match for Marin).

Speaking of Matty, he’d thrown himself into the last month of term, a man on a mission, holding the group together in Marin’s absence. And he’d slotted Val in seamlessly, including her in everything, checking in with her more frequently. Val relished the attention, his care with her, the soft look he got in his eyes looking at her during midnight talks when the worry and cancer-fueled fucking anger overwhelmed them. She wanted to believe it was something, a spark, but he seemed so torn up about Marin. It was probably just pity. She secretly worried that he was going to all this trouble to try and replace the Marin-sized hole in their group. Or worse, in his heart. And she couldn’t be her sister, no matter how hard she’d tried growing up.

So, while she was devastated that they were leaving, hadn’t really even processed what next year would look like, there was a glimmer of hope in her that it would simplify things, they’d be less complicated. She’d go home for the summer (she’d cancelled her planned internship, felt selfish being away at such a tough time), take care of Marin, and return next year with him in the rear view. Out of sight, out of mind.

That seemed really hard to imagine right now when he catches her staring, looking at her over the lip of his pint, all soft eyes and a shy grin, like he knew something she didn’t. He stands as she approaches, enveloping her in a warm hug.

“Drink?” He shakes his pint as he speaks, and she nods aggressively.

“Here, you take this one, I’ll snag another” he pivots, pointing over his shoulder to the long line behind him that leads to the outside bar.

“No, don’t be silly. I’m not in a rush, I’ll grab it. Don’t want to take you away from this lot on your last night.”

“Eh, I’m sick of these twats” he says loudly, cackling when George flips him the bird and mutters about him being a sore loser. “I’ll wait with you, could do with some fresh air anyway.”

And she has to admit that the breeze feels nice, hadn’t realized how flushed she’d gotten in the stale air of the pub. Even after they score her “her”drink (a vodka cranberry) that he takes the piss out of her every time for - “it’s my drink of choice - that’s because it’s the only drink you’ve ever had! You’re missing out!”- they gravitate toward an empty bench on the outskirts of the patio. Matty lights a cigarette almost as soon as they’ve sat down.

“What happened to the New Year’s resolution?”

“Quitting seemed much more doable before your sister got sick” His face contorts into something between a grimace and a smirk. He flicks the ash away, breathing smoke out of his nose, something she knows should repulse her, but she finds oddly sexy. “I mean, I’m trying to keep everyone together. It hit Mags particularly hard, what with losing her father so young. Her fucking checked out mother could have at least paid for decent therapy back then. It’s been all I can do to keep her somewhat sober and passing class.”

She nods her agreement; she hadn’t realized just how much he’d been carrying not just her the last few months.

“Marin is the glue, you know? With her not here, I’m worried it’s all gonna fall apart. Like getting older wasn’t fucking bad enough.” Tap tap tap. He has a nervous habit of tapping his hands when he’s nervous. She’s noticed it more and more the last few weeks, a few beats turning into extended rhythms as the slow march to the end of the term draws near. “These were supposed to be the best months of our lives.” She can’t take seeing him anxious anymore, her hand reaching out to cover his on the bench. Val watches as her fingers lace together with his like an out of body experience. He squeezes hard, sending a twinge through her hand. She doesn’t care, she squeezes right back. “It’s so fucked.”

Another squeeze. His thumb grazes her knuckles gently. “I just wish there was more I could do.”

Now that is a sentiment that Valentina can relate to. “I hear you, I don’t know how to help her either and it kills me. Like, I’m her sister, and there’s just fuck all that I can -“she can’t finish, her voice catching in her throat.

“Not just her” his hand comes up to brush an errant hair out of her face, fingering the blond hair like it was gold. “For you.”

“Me? You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I may not have to” his gaze is piercing “but I do.” The words are like a dose of cold brew, hitting her nerves, making her feel jittery with a combination of excitement and angst. She feels guilty, she’s meant to be comforting him! But she also wants him, has for years, this is the closest they’ve ever been. About that, it feels like the space - the physical space - between them is getting smaller. She knows she’s not moving because she keeps trying to will her body to sit back, pull back, step back. So it has to be him closing the gap, leaning in, right? It makes no sense and yet it’s the only logical conclusion.

This shouldn’t be happening, she can’t be her sister for him. She can’t. “Listen, Marin is going to get better and then you and she can -”

Her eyes have to cross to see the confusion written in his, that’s how close he is now. Danger, danger. “Me and Marin? That’s not….” He takes a breath, sets his shoulders as if preparing for something. To let her down easy, no doubt. Oh god, how did he know? “Listen, Vee, I know this may be bad timing but -“

The sound of her phone is a mercy, and she jumps at the easy out, grateful to see her aunt’s name flash across the screen.

“I - uh - I gotta take this. Excuse me”

She wanders off under his watchful stare. By the time she returns, the group has migrated out to join him, her seat in front of him occupied. Everything is muted, their loud voices, her feelings, even the colors around her. It’s like she left the scene in color and came back black and white.

Mags yells out to her. “Val, come tell this dickhead that your first visit to London will be to see me, not him. Matty is delud-“ Her voice drifts off at the look on Val’s face. Matty clambers up from the table, squatting down to eye level, thumbs rubbing her shoulders as rhythmically as he did her knuckles. She wished she could feel it, feel anything.

“Valentina? What is it? Are you alright?“

Better just rip the bandaid off, there’s nothing for it. “It’s Marin. She’s uh” Val clears her throat, physically working to dislodge the words stuck in her throat, “I uh, she’s dead. She, she died.”

Everyone freezes, mouths hung open, gestures caught in midair. Matty’s still holding onto her shoulders, but the soothing rhythm has stopped. Being on the receiving end of the news had been hell but being on the receiving end of Marin’s friends – her friends too, she can hear the echo of Matty chastising her even now – reactions is somehow worse. Faces crumpling, hot tears. Shayla just keeps muttering oh my god over and over, as if a mantra, seemingly unaware that she’s doing it. It’s the only thing that cuts the silence until…

His lips part. “Vee, I – “Leave it to Matty to still find words when everyone else is at a loss. His fingers flex, arms adjusting to pull her into his body. But she can’t, can’t deal with anyone’s pain or awkwardness or misguided pity right now, especially his. She steps back, dodging the hurt look in his eyes. The subtle shift brings everyone’s attention back to her and they move all at once, a giant mass surrounding her. Taking up space and the air that she is desperately fighting for. Shayla’s oh my gods have turned into a litany of questions about what happened and what’s next and what does she want, and Val simply does not know.

Sweetheart, you need to come home. She’s gone. It feels like a lifetime ago that her aunt told her the news, voice cracking around her words, and yet it’s been less than five minutes. Val knows this because her favorite song had started playing just as she got the call – Purple Rain – and Prince’s epic riff was still blaring across the patio). Right before her phone buzzed, she’d even been tempted to ask Matty to dance (one minute of feeling him pressed against her before she swore she’d move on, just a little taste of what could have been if she hadn’t been born with such an incredibly, eclipsing force of a sister who drew everyone to her). That brief, reckless surge of confidence that feels like a different lifetime now.

She has to get out of there. She feels the need to cry and scream and throw things and curl into a ball and Val’s never been good at multitasking but right now it feels like she might do all of them at once if she doesn’t find a way to fucking move her feet. What is wrong with her? Is this shock? Is she dying? She feels like a part of her already has. Her spiral is interrupted by a steady hand at her back. She glances over her shoulder, meeting Matty’s bloodshot eyes. His curls are damp where they brush across her cheek, he looks wrecked. Of course he is, he just lost his – well, Val’s not sure what they were exactly but he looks beside himself.

Head tilting toward the patio exit, he takes her hand, her body going along with him. And it seems the rest of the group as well, them all trailing behind, clinging to each other, afraid to let go. He rambles on the walk back to her place – she’d balked at Matty’s insistence on spending the night on her couch, walking her back had been a reluctant compromise. I’ll come by as soon as you’re up, can help with packing. I can even fly home with you if you want. She reminds him he has graduation in a few days, knows a small army of family are coming from all over to celebrate him. Fuck that, I’ll call them right now, this is a family thing too. She bristles at that, the reminder of the intimacy he shared with her sister. Then she almost doubles over with shame at the thought of being jealous of Marin at all. She’s selfish, the worst.

Val knows he shows up the next morning, knows it even though she isn’t there. Because he said he would, because that’s who he is. Taking care of others, ignoring his own pain. That’s what he’s been doing for her all year long. Sure, she was the understudy, but she’d been a willing participant. Because the truth is, she’d been using him right back. She’d been so numb – with guilt at being well when her sister wasn’t, being at Marina’s dream school without her, being away when her parents were swamped with medical appointments and bills. Being with Matty, drunk on his attention, that’s the only time she felt anything all year. But the guilt of almost kissing Matty behind her sister’s back, while her sister was dying, well that almost crushed her.

The shame was palpable. It drove her out of her dorm in the middle of the night, leaving behind anything that she didn’t absolutely need, knowing she’d never come back for it. Kept a wall between them at the services, despite Matty’s multiple attempts to exchange more than just pleasantries and condolences. For months, it kept her company in the dead of night, when she was most tempted to return his numerous calls, reply to the endless stream of unanswered texts. Val, I’m here if you need anything. Please just let me know you’re getting these. Talk to me. And then there’d been one voicemail, recorded when he was clearly off his face. Veeeeeeee Im drknu and herteng n i fcin miss and then he’d been cut off, sounds of scuffling and a muffled give me that (it was George, she thinks) before the dial tone.

She didn’t hear from him again. Sometimes she’d wonder what finally made him give up. Anger, a new woman, apathy? This was one of her most well-worn thoughts, that he had simply moved on from the Langford sisters. She couldn’t blame him (and yet she did). They’d been friends for less than a year, connected by a third person who was now gone. What did she expect?

For years she kept the voicemail and texts, the only thing she had left of him, until even those were lost when she accidentally jumped in the pool at a friend’s wedding with her phone forgotten in her back pocket. Along with the contact info for her sister’s (her) friends. It became harder to remember the sound of his voice, the smell of his cologne, the cadence of his speech when he got so animated he couldn’t keep a train of thought going. But then she’d be out shopping, at a bar, and she’d hear it, the faint strains of Purple Rain. And it would come rushing back. The one damn thing that kept the torch from going out completely

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

RULES: Post the last sentence you wrote (fanfic / original / anything) and tag as many people as there are words in the sentence.

Tagged by the amazingly talented @jonairadreaming

James continued on, playing into Jamie’s insecurities with the same ease he played a game of snooker.

That’s a lot of people so I’m just going to tag a few if you want to play but no pressure @thirteenemeraldcats @jamiesfootball @nativestarwrites <3

[afurtivecake]

where r u from that u call billiards snooker? ive just never heard anything other than billiards and pool

you've activated my "info dump about snooker" trap card, I'm afraid

so pool and snooker are both cue sports that can both generally be called "billiards". They are different games, however, with separate tournaments, different rules, different balls, different sized tables, and different techniques used.

Pool, which is more common in the US, is played with larger, numbered balls. There are several different variations of pool played with slightly different rules but generally, the goal is to pot the numbered balls in a specific order based on number.

Snooker is popular in the UK, China, Singapore, India and Thailand (just to name a few countries). The balls are coloured but not numbered. There are 15 red balls, and one each of yellow, green, brown, blue, pink and black (also the white cue ball), which you have to pot in a particular order to score points. The table is also larger than in pool (thus necessitating players to lay themselves over it sometimes).

My favourite difference between pool and snooker is that you can't really just switch between the two nilly-willy. The cueing techniques are different enough that pro-snooker players cannot just enter pool tournaments and expect to win (they have tried) and vice-versa. The techniques are different because the size of the table and balls are different. Snooker tables are larger and require a different cue action to hit balls with the cue ball from further away. Pool, on the other hand, seems to have a lot of techniques for tricky little close-range shots.

Sorry, I went on a bit there...I genuinely love being asked about snooker. Anyway, my point is, I went with a AFTG snooker AU because snooker is the one I'm familiar with. Also because snooker is the one with the tense, repressed vibes (even though it's been largely a shady gambling game throughout history) and makes players dress up all formal, which I just find amusing. I just think the shadiness of snooker fits well with the criminal aspects of AFTG.

EDIT: I forgot to mention that the main reason it’s snooker and not pool is because that thing where they bend over the table and lift up a leg like that is way more common in snooker (due to the size of the table) than pool. I’ve not watched much pool but generally people don’t lean that far over the table and it’s more common to see players to sort of half-sit on the table to make a shot than bend over

[justforbooks]

Martin Amis, the author of Money and London Fields, has died at the age of 73. Here are some of the most memorable quotes from interviews over the course of his career.

On writing

“What makes you a writer? You develop an extra sense that partly excludes you from experience. When writers experience things, they’re not really experiencing them anything like a hundred percent. They’re always holding back and wondering what the significance of it is, or wondering how they’d do it on the page.”

“I find that people take my writing rather personally. It’s interesting when you’re doing signing sessions with other writers and you look at the queues at each table and you can see definite human types gathering there … With Julian Barnes, his queue seemed to be peopled by rather comfortable, professional types. My queue is always full of, you know, wild-eyed sleazebags and people who stare at me very intensely, as if I have some particular message for them. As if I must know that they’ve been reading me, that this dyad or symbiosis of reader and writer has been so intense that I must somehow know about it.”

“To me it seems like a part-time job, really, in that writing from 11 to 1 continuously is a very good day’s work. Then you can read and play tennis or snooker. Two hours. I think most writers would be very happy with two hours of concentrated work.”

“Any smoker will sympathise when I say that after your first cup of coffee you have a sobbing, pleading feeling in the lungs as they cry out for their first cigarette of the day, and my desire to write is rather like that. It’s rather physical.”

“There are pains you have to go through when writing a novel. If I wrote a novel without that – where it was all flowing, from beginning to end – it would make me very suspicious. It has to have the admixture of pain. But otherwise it seems to me a hilariously enjoyable way of spending one’s time. Assigning life to all these propositions, and (usually) dreaming up people, rather than taking them from life.”

“I have no patience for anything experimental or obscure – above all, obscure. I have to know at all times exactly what’s going on. I’m very committed to the pleasure principle. You read literature to have a good time. Or why else would people go on doing it?”

On his father, Kingsley Amis

“He was brilliantly indolent: he never gave me any encouragement at all. I later realised how valuable and necessary that was.”

“I left the proofs [of The Rachel Papers] on his desk and went off on holiday. When I came back, he’d gone on holiday. But he left a brief, charming note saying he thought it was enjoyable and fun and all that. I think that was the last novel of mine he read all the way through.”

“I always thought if he had been born a generation later, he would have written my novels. And if I’d been born a generation earlier, I would have written his novels.”

On cancel culture

“Every fibre in my being resists. It’s a philistine manifesto. It’s anti-creativity. Appropriation means taking without permission – who do you ask permission of? It’s getting that way in every direction. I got bollocked for writing about the working classes in Lionel Asbo. But I’d been doing that since I started.”

On his comments about Islamism

“Well, there was an unpleasant flurry [at that time], and I certainly regretted having said what I said; already by mid-afternoon on that day I ceased to believe in what I said. Collective punishment is obviously ruled out by definition – it was the sort of thing you say towards the end of a long interview without really having time to clear it with yourself. But that never felt like a great convulsion in my life. One death threat and a lot of chat. It wasn’t much of a cancellation.”

On feminism

“I’ve been a passionate feminist since the mid-80s. It was Gloria Steinem who converted me in a single day in New York. It’s the rhetorical device she uses throughout, and it’s very effective: she just reverses the sexes – what if men menstruated, what if men had babies? It’s unanswerable.”

On politics

“I’m secure in my conviction that socialism doesn’t work, because it goes against human nature. The idea of people acting out of social altruism is not part of human nature. It’s an element in it, but it’s not a guiding principle. I’ve always been a gradualist.”

“One of the real truths of the 21st century, and earlier, is that history is speeding up. We’re all on a sort of rollercoaster now. There are existential threats that weren’t fully acknowledged not so long ago. We are sort of hurtling forward. It’s more of a task to ask people to slow down.”

Remembering Christopher Hitchens

“He had a greater love of life than me. He really enjoyed everything, so much. I quite like life, but I’m not as crazy about it as he was. It somehow formulated itself in me that, now he was dead, it was my job to love life as much as he did.”

“Christopher was a real contrarian. One of things I’m proud of is that friendship. We never had even the slightest froideur about disagreements. I think it’s a good rule never to lose a friend over an argument. Never get into these sincerity contests: “I feel so strongly about this that I never want to see you again.” Rubbish. I disagreed with Hitchens violently over literary things as well as political things. But it never got to the point of raised voices. That’s partly because real friendship is rare, particularly male friendship.”

On ageing

“My father said to me that when a writer of 25 puts pen to paper he’s saying to the writer of 50 that it’s no longer like that, it’s like this. The older writer, at some point, is going to lose touch with what the contemporary moment feels like, although some writers do amazing jobs, Saul Bellow being a good example.”

“I feel I’m only going to write short stories and novellas from now on. Chekhov said, toward the end of his life, “Everything I read strikes me as not short enough.” And I agree.”

“In the old days it came quicker, the prose. Now it’s a battle. It’s not about coming up with striking adverbs, it’s more about removing as many uglinesses as I can find.”

“I don’t want this to get out of control or I’ll be drowning in schmaltz, but it all starts to look very beautiful now that I know I’m not going to be around indefinitely. You know, the way that to a prisoner condemned to death, water tastes delicious, the air tastes sweet, a bread-and-butter sandwich makes tears spring to the eye.”

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