November always dragged around the station, but today was one dead Sunday. Not one car pulled off the interstate all morning. Nothing hit the drive but a thin steady rain, puddling slow rainbows in the oil. Me and Harnie just tilted back our chairs against the cigarette rack, watched the monster movie, and waited for the game to start. The big flying turtle was about set to barbeque downtown Tokyo when the drive bell rang, and up sluiced a car so damn gorgeous it hurt to look at it. A '37 Buick Roadmaster it was, painted a red so rich it was nearly black, that straight eight engine whispering like a lover while teardrops of rain rolled down the chrome grill. Out climbed this tall fellow, dressed like God's grandpa done up for a wedding or a funeral. His skin was brown as a buckwheat cake, with creases deep as drainage ditches. Took a mighty long stretch of sweat and toil, love and birth and dying, to carve a face like that. He flexed his shoulders, then rolled his neck till it cracked. He pulled a pack of Camel straights from inside his vest and flipped one out. "Got a light?" His voice was deep and warm, half gravel, half honey. I tossed him a pack of matches through the open door; he caught it left-handed, then flipped it open, folded over a match, and struck it with his thumb. "This the town with the dead fiddler?" he said after a long drag on the smoke. "You might say so," I said, ignoring the look Harnie gave me. Nobody talked about her; I wondered how this fellow had even heard about her. "Ain't a fiddle, though. It's a cello, like in the symphony." The stranger shrugged. "Close enough." "She ain't d-dead, neither," Harnie said. "M-more sleeping, like." He puffed out a wreath of smoke. Then another. "Let's go wake her up," he said. "You best not try, mister," I said. "She been sleeping for thirty some year." What did the two men start talking about? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - weddings - not enough information - death - violence
death

Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi offered a thinly veiled criticism of China, even while insisting on closer relations with Beijing, during a speech Friday in Singapore. Speaking at the annual Shangri-La Dialogue defense conference, Modi called for the Indo-Pacific region to embrace freedom of navigation, territorial integrity, and respect for all nations, regardless of their size. "We will promote a democratic and rules-based international order in which all nations, small and large, count as equal and sovereign," the Indian prime minister said. "We will work with others to keep our seas, space and airways free and open." While those comments did not specifically mention China, Modi's remarks are seen as a reference to Beijing's increasingly assertive behavior toward its smaller neighbors in disputed areas of the South China Sea. Modi also implicitly criticized the United States. He slammed growing protectionism, presumably a reference to recent tariffs imposed by U.S. President Donald Trump. He also said nations should keep their commitments a possible reference to Trump's decision to pull out of the Iran nuclear deal. India has grown close with the U.S., especially as China projects its growing military power beyond its shores. The U.S.-India relationship, Modi said, "has resumed new significance in the changing world." An important aspect of that partnership is "a shared vision of an open, stable, secure and prosperous Indo-Pacific," he added. For decades, India has embraced a non-aligned status, which means it does not choose sides between world powers. In keeping with that position, Modi warned against a "return to great power rivalries." The Indian prime minister also insisted that "Asia and the world will have a better future when India and China work together in trust and confidence, sensitive to each other's interests." India is the world's largest democracy. It has the world's seventh-largest economy. Within a decade, it is expected to pass China to become the world's most populous country. How long was Modi's speech in Singapore? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - about an hour or less - about 3 hours - about 5 hours
about an hour or less

(Q).
If you turned on the TV towards the end of 2002 you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain had gone absolutely horseshit mental. Every week, it seemed, another pretty young girl from a nice family, who was happy and popular and always did well at school, was being kidnapped or murdered by what the Sun newspaper cheerfully termed 'evil paedo scum'. Naming and shaming was as popular a feature in the Murdoch press as Page Three girls and discounted holidays to Butlin's. Of course you can't blame parents for wanting to keep their children safe; that's pretty much the job description of a parent. And, on the face of it, the tabloids were doing a public service in warning us about the paedophile menace lurking in our midst. The problem came when it turned out that a huge number of these concerned tabloid-reading parents were also absolute fucking morons. For every story of an actual sex offender being driven from their house by a baying mob there was one like that of Dr Yvette Cloete, a doctor at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport, South Wales, who returned home from work to find that a group of 'concerned parents' had daubed the word 'paedo' on her front door in bright red paint. Dr Cloete was a consultant paediatrician. Easy mistake. If you're an absolute fucking moron. And so it was that one hung-over morning, after reading yet another story about vigilantes who had threatened to stone Maxine Carr, the girlfriend of Soham killer Ian Huntley, to death during her high-profile trial for perverting the course of justice, I decided to set up a website parodying this collective national madness. The result of two or three hours of hung-over labour was thinkofthechildren.co.uk, a spoof campaign site which claimed to offer a handy online guide for crazy vigilantes of all stripes to co-ordinate their crazy vigilante efforts. Although there are a few parts of the site I'm still a bit proud of, the majority of it was, I freely admit, satire of the lowest order. After the end of this story, the narrator seems to be a little: Pick the correct answer from the following options: - self-deprecating - arrogant - not enough information - prideful
(A).
self-deprecating