This house is clear…ish

man-fluWell, certainly clearer than it has been for a little while.  Although, if you listen carefully through the night, you could be forgiven for thinking that my apartment is ground zero in the origins story for The Walking Dead.  It starts off innocuous enough, a sniffle here, a minor coughette there and, before you know it, “BRAAAAAINS” or something.

What the fuck are you talking about Dave?  Man Flu.

I know, people thought it had been eradicated but the large red X that has been painted on my front door, along with food delivery drivers turning up in Hazmat suits, suggests otherwise.

Women will never be able to understand the plague that is Man Flu.  A singularly sexist disease that targets the strongest amongst us and returns us to the state of mewling babes.  I mean sure, they have Child Birth and the monthly Visit*, but nothing to the level of Man Flu.

Man Flu attacks the brain and disables the Fuckula Givelongata.  Whilst recently under the control of Man Flu, I manage to use the Fuckenstien Giveafuckometer and I honestly thought it was broken as it did not even flicker.  Subsequent tests with less accurate devices such as the Giveashitometer and even the very basic Offyourarseoscope  and I realised how serious a bout of Man Flu I had contracted.  After failing to make a difference with the Impetus Grantus**,  I quickly employed the Refuckulator*** but, unfortunately, this did not have the expected results and I was forced to conclude that I was not long for this world.

What was a boy to do?  I made an announcement on Facebook.  Let’s face it, if it isn’t on there then it’s pointless.  I have to say that my heart was warmed by the outpouring of sympathy from the people there.  They only had one concern and it fair made my day (to be honest, I feel like it probably made my hole weak) and that was, of course, for the well being of..well…all my stuff.  Within minutes, my PC, Recipes, Cakes and even my beloved fitness equipment was already allocated out.

Readying myself to pull the plug and allow the Man Flu to finally consume me, a shining beacon of hope appeared.  IAP.  She had heard the call and, while she couldn’t hope to understand the suffering, dipped into her Gypsy handbook and sent unto me the only known antidote to Man Flu….Jewish Penicillin.  Sure enough and a day later, I was cured.

I realise that I will have to purchase many many sprigs of heather to absolve myself of this debt, lest I be cursed to have all of my MP3s become Baby by Justin Bieber, but it is a price worth paying and I will gladly do so.  For Man Flu is not to be trifled with and you can’t always have Gypsy Witchcraft on your side.

I was lucky, you may not be…so pay attention and avoid drafts.

This post has been brought to you by the letters M and I and S and O and…fuck it…it was brought to you with Misogyny Ok, misogyny and a large amount of cheek based tongueness.

*Can we please just address the elephant in the room btw.  How the hell is it possible for a creature to bleed for 7 days without becoming an ex-creature. ‘Tis the devils work I tells ya!

** 1 Coffee and a cigarette

** Complicated to explain, but contains at least 2 coffees and a cigarette

The Midget with the Widget…

dwarf_jumping_by_matushyzny-d6nsrp6Ok, so there was no widget and I just wanted a catchy title.  There was however a midget…and so begins an embarrassing tale.  A tale that, surprisingly enough, I have never told the interwebz before.

Picture the scene a young, free and single Dave* is hanging around with a group of somewhat older RAF lads**.  Much to the chagrin of my Dad***…but I digress.  We were regularly found to be going to a Night Club of a weekend for fun and, where possible, hi jinks.

Now, it should be pointed out at this point that the club was in a place called Ashby De La Zouch.  Not, as the name might suggest, somewhere just south of the Dardogne but actually in the far more exotic Leicestershire.

Now for a club in such an upmarket location, it is quite the surprise to discover that there was no dress code.  I know, right?

So, in an effort to stand out, myself and my good friend Craig came up with a series of cunning plans.

Plan #1 – Clothing
We would stand out from the (jeans and t-shirt) crowd.  This involved wearing suits.  It really is amazing what a difference that makes.  Think about it ladies…you are in a club, dressed up to the nines.  Looking good, feeling great and every guy you see is dressed in whatever the early 90’s equivalent of Hollister T-Shirts and Wrangler (hey…90’s remember, don’t judge) was.  Then, in walk two guys that are also dressed to the nines (personally, I would say tens but I guess I am a little biased).  Of course you are going to notice them, maybe even pay more attention to them than the clones wandering around the club.  See…psychology innit.

Plan #2 – Backstory
Now, if you are going to a club like that, dressed like that, it is clear that you are trying to trigger female interest.  That suggests the potential for playing around.  So Craig and I came up with the great idea to be interesting each weekend.  We would pick an accent (for we are both talented in that area) and then pick a job that we could make shit up about.  Weird when most people would have been quite impressed that Craig was a serving British Airman and repaired jet fighters for a day job.  It would probably have just been easier for me to “work with him” and that would have been that.  But that wouldn’t have been fun enough…so we made shit up.  I absolutely can’t remember all of them, but we were (in no particular order):-

Scouse Firemen (duh!), Scottish Oil Riggers, Cockney SAS Servicemen, German Footballers, Irish Vetinary Surgeons, Doctors (recently returned from Ethiopia, thanks Comic Relief for the info on that one)…

Along with various other job and accent combinations that we thought made us all windswept and interesting.  Certainly it made us stand out – Which was the goal after all.

Plan #3 – Cheesy Lines or even Cheesy Non-Lines
“Get your coat love, you’ve pulled.”
“Is that the telephone I hear or are your knickers (w)ringing?”
“Aren’t you tired?” “Why?” “Well, you’ve been running around my head since I got in here”
“I seem to have lost my phone number, can I borrow yours?”

These are just a few of the lines that may or may not have been used.  Adding to that, and I can’t quite believe that I am telling the internet this…to be honest, I will be quite surprised if the internet believes it at all..but it’s a thing…we also used to have a go to “move”.

In the inside pockets of our suits, would be a number of red roses.  The move involved waiting for the object of your lust desires to be sat at a table or leaning at the bar.  You approach, place the rose in front of the lucky (hahhah) lady whilst saying, and this is important, NOTHING.  Don’t look at her, don’t say anything, don’t acknowledge her in any way…then walk away.  You might be surprised at how often that worked.

So, with all of that taken into account, we had reasonable success (as we measured it anyway) and were having a rare old time.  “But where does the midget come into the story” I hear you cry..or at least wonder vaguely.  Well, I am getting to that.

So, we have arrived at the club, suits on and I believe we were German Footballers on tour (please please please don’t judge us, we just wanted to get laid…nothing sleazy :p ).  Craig and I head straight to the bar and order a couple of beers in our best broken English.  Also at the bar, two women and a little further along the bar two guys…OK so maybe 1.5 guys.

The women decide that we would be prime targets, for reasons best known to themselves, and approach us at the bar.  To be honest, we hadn’t even received our pints yet and had been in the club for around 3 minutes, so we weren’t all that ready and/or interested.  You know what it’s like, you have to warm up, get the lay of the land…you don’t pop off shots at the first person you see when there you have a target rich environment ;)

The ladies seem to get the message and head off, which causes both of the guys to sidle up to us.  Whereupon the tiny one proceeds to give me some advice to “stay away” from their girlfriends.  Had the jealous little fecker been watching the interaction (which I can be fairly certain he was), he would have noticed the direction of the interest and our distinct lack of interest.  However, rather than deal with issues in his relationship, he decides to threaten two people who want nothing to do with the girls anyway, even more so now we know that they have boyfriends.  Meh, guys…what can you do?  Amiright?

Fast forward to later in the night and, to be quite honest, a time where Craig and I are a little drunk now.  Dances have been danced, women have been insulted hit on (and in some cases made out with) and generally a fine old time was being had.  There was, however, one constant..well two actually.  Both of the women from earlier just wouldn’t leave us alone.  We would dance on the left side of the dancefloor…so would they.  Mid-dance we would dance across the floor to a new position…they would follow.  Frankly it was throwing us off our game.  To top it all off, we had the Lilliputian equivalent of the Family Guy monkey tracking our every move.






After a while, the diminutive dolt decides that enough is enough.  Both myself and Craig have been pursuing his girlfriend (in reverse obviously) for far too long.  He has warned us once, he shouldn’t need to again.  He decides another conversation is in order.

Craig, it should be pointed out, is at this point at the bar.  I am therefore alone, separated from our little herd of two and ripe for the plucking…or something.  The minuscule moron approaches me in the fashion of a mafioso while his friend stays back to keep an eye on both the situation and Craig.

Aspersions on my parentage were cast, Oedipus complexes accused and other such pleasantries were delivered.  I would say exchanged, but damn if those little dudes can’t speak quickly.  Plus, after trying three or four times to point out that neither Craig nor myself were trying anything and maybe he should consider having a chat with “er indoors” instead of the guys she and her friend won’t LEAVE ALONE, I started just laughing at him.

Now, maybe that was cruel.  Maybe he has been laughed at for his entire life due to his height.  Maybe I undid 10 years of therapy.  Or maybe it was simply the fact that I was clearly not listening to him.

Whatever it was, he was quite severely triggered.

Now you might be thinking, quite rightly, why didn’t I just put my hand on his head so that he would be forced to ineffectually swing wildly while I continue to drink my beer…until he eventually tires and I can just walk away?  Well, I didn’t have any beer (that was why I was alone, Craig was off buying said beverage) and secondly, the pint-sized prick was a lot quicker than I gave him credit for.

This meant that he jumped ladies and gentlemen.  Jumped with such pinpoint accuracy that the top of his head connected with my nose.

My node**** exploded and I was too busy trying not to get blood all over my suit to react.  Things went into slow motion, I turned away to avoid Mr Rocket Boots getting another shot at me.  When I turn I see a couple of bouncers heading my way and Craig (my hero) vaulting over the railing that separated the bar from the dance floor.  They all converge at roughly the same time and luckily for the teensy tosser (or possibly Craig the way things had gone thus far), the bouncers were a step or two ahead of Craig and grabbed him before Craig could do anything.

He was thrown out and the police called.  I get cleaned up and carry on my night.  It was a very good night in the end…and no, I did not go after his girlfriend to spite him, although I was sorely tempted.

So yes, a midget with a distinct lack of widget beat me up in a night club.

Jeebus, why do I tell you this stuff?

* much like at the moment
** not at all like at the moment
***meh, probably like at the moment if I bothered to ask
**** You see what I did there?

Career Change

Jimmy CarrSo, it’s finally happened.  My talent has been spotted and I am leaving all you losers behind.  You will see me on QI, 8 out of 10 cats, Big Fat Quiz of the year.  In less than a year, I expect to be taking over from James Corden on the late show (or whatever it’s called…doesn’t matter, it will be renamed The Laughing Wolf anyway) and getting movie roles.


Don’t ask for any handouts, I am already beyond the realms of you peons.

So, what happened I hear you ask?  Well, I suppose I should at the very least allow you the knowledge of my imminent rise to fame.  Despite the fact that people, such as yourselves, could never hope to hit these dizzy heights.

Last night, Jimmy Carr came to Frankfurt.  Well, almost quite near Frankfurt.  No Icebergs as he dubbed it for the evening.  He was outstanding and, even though a few of us thought he might tone it down for “ze Germans”, he really didn’t.

I don’t think I have laughed so much in my life.  Admittedly, there were times that I was laughing more at some of the German audience and the way they were wanting to interact with him, than at some of the jokes.  Still, it was superb.  Crazy cat lady with her walls of fire and the helpful guy behind us that recommends Jimmy use Ad-Blockers to stop those pesky casino adverts whenever you go onto Porn sites.  Not to mention poor old Cross’s mum, who will have been embarrassed (and quite possibly very sore) by the end of the show.  And, only AT could go to a Jimmy Carr gig and end up getting free advertising for his pub during the gig…mad I tells ya.

Great stuff.

Where do I fit in?  Well, Jimmy likes to request heckles and comments.  To make sure he gets some, he has a mobile that anyone in the audience can send texts to.  Towards the end of the gig, he displays a choice few up on the screen and ad-libs around what appears.  There were some absolute gold level gags and comments that had been sent in.

One of them was a question.  A very simple question.  “Do you think that Chewbacca has a human penis, or a red rocket doggy penis?”.  Jimmy addresses the audience to say that it is obvious to him that it’s a red rocket doggy penis.  He then asks what we think… “You don’t think he has a human penis do you?”.  Nobody answered, so I chimed in. “Only if he asks Han Solo nicely!”.

I thank you, I thank you, I’m here all week, don’t forget to tip your waitress.

Jimmy applauded me and the audience, sensing my genius and impending stardom, soon followed suit.

That lead into a few minutes of “Was that the subtext of those two characters?” by Jimmy and the show continued.

It was an amazing night and I am so very glad that I went along.  If laughter really is good for the soul, Jimmy Carr is a Soul Musician of the highest order.

If you ever get the chance, go to one of his shows.  If not, get his DVDs/Blu Rays.

You won’t regret it.

Now, where are my Celeste M&Ms??  Not Cyan and definitely not Electric-fucking-blue.  I said Celeste….

Worlds worst?

I am sure that some of you will remember a British TV show called “Whose Line Is It Anyway”.  Basically, it was a comedy improvisation show that featured a number of American and/or Canadian comedians with a token Brit thrown in from time to time…you know, just to remind people that we have a sense of humour.  It was hosted by Clive Anderson, but this didn’t stop it from being funny….

Anyway, the show regularly featured a segment called “Worlds Worst” where the “contestants” were given a topic and had to provide funny examples of the worlds worst version of it.  Check it out for yourself:

So why am I mentioning this?  Well, I stumbled across a news article with the headline “Smuggler who tied birds to legs awaits sentence”.

Now, let’s deal with first impressions.

Smuggler..ok, trying to get something that is illegal into another country.  Fair enough.

Tied bird to legs..what the fuck?  My initial thought was that he had tied some dead birds to his legs..some rare and protected species that would be sold for a small fortune on the black market in his travel destination.  A not altogether smart move, especially if there are dogs around the customs area..but still – I guess it could work…maybe.

Then I click the link..and read that this future Darwin Award winner had actually tied 14..yes 14 LIVE birds to his legs and ankles.  Here is the picture that proves it:

I mean, seriously, live birds?  HWorlds Worst?ow in the blue hell did this idiot expect to get them through..are they Lesser Spotted Mutes  or something?  What next, a kangaroo for a  jumper.  Maybe a live crocodile strapped to each foot or an albatross on his back so that he could claim to have drunk too much Red Bull.

Would he say that the chirpy chirpy cheep cheep was his false hip squeaking or something?  I am genuinely at a loss as to the thought process that went into this decision.  There had to be some serious drugs involved and a 4am decision made.

Full story

In other news, Stephen Hawking believes that Aliens are out there but “may pose risks”…apparently.

I should think they bloody will, especially if they have been observing us for any length of time and tuned in to any films about Aliens.

Not to mention the possibility of extraterrestrial germs infecting us.  You think bird flu is bad?  Wait until Zargon374 Space Syphilis turns up and starts wipeing out the planet based on a cultural misunderstanding alone.  Picture the scene, the UFO lands, Aliens get out (if they can avoid the redneck americans trying to shoot them) and the world leaders grab the Aliens by their 17 fingered right hand for the time honoured handshake photo opportunity…only to discover that Thralgor had stopped off at the brothel on Venus for a quick 5 minute backscuttle….and that the beings of Zargon374 have their sexual organs in the palm of their right hand-like appendage.

Governments will fall, wars will be raged and the price of penicillin will rocket to around ?2.3 billion per tablet…so yes Mr Hawking, I agree with you…these aliens are dangerous and I for one will be teaming up with as many shotgun wielding rednecks as I can find.

I don’t know about you, I am going to figure out how to hide these 200 coi carp on me for my next trip abroad and will probably be stocking up on Penicillin…a LOT of penicillin as, let’s face it, you never know.

Waxing lyrical…


Today, inspired by nothing more than a promise to you, I have decided to analyse more lyrical masterpieces on a semi-regular basis (read: when I can think of one)…

Up first is the classic No Limits, written by the lyrical genius of Dutch prodigies 2 Unlimited.   Strap yourself in, they simply don’t write ’em like this these days:

Lemme hear ya say yeah! (yeah!)
Lemme hear ya say yeah! (yeah!)

Clearly designed for the medium of live shows, this act of acknowledgement to the audience only serves to endear 2 Unlimited to us all, it also makes sure that everyone is suitably ready to rock out (possibly with their cock out, it’s too early to tell)

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no ,no ,no, no there’s no limit!
no, no, no ,no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no there’s no limit!

It’s amazing when a band decides to hit you with such power and poignancy from the start…most bands like to build to their message, lull you with calming sounds and dance around the issues.   Not 2 Unlimited, they know their audience, they understand that people get them.   Clearly they are asking people to open their minds and not constrain themselves with the little things….such as talent.

No no limits, we’ll reach for the sky!
No valley to deep
No mountain too high
No no limits, won’t give up the fight!
We do what we want and we do it with pride

There we go you see, throw off the shackles of conformity and medocrity, reach as high as you can possibly go.   With deep valleys and high mountains, they are clearly trying to prepare you for the journey of life and need you to understand what trials and tribulations you may face.   Such strength of meaning, so often missing from todays music.

In the last part of this verse, they begin dealing with how you have to be strong in your own convictions, fight for your beliefs and rights and always, always remember to be proud of yourself and whatever you do.   Do what you want, do what you feel…let noone stand in your way.   You are powerful, you are amazing, you are a WINNER!

Lemme hear ya say yeah! (yeah!)

Now, you could be forgiven for wondering why they would repeat such the powerful statement from the beginning of the song here, but you would be wrong to do so.   Using this again is genius.   You have to remember that following that initial rendition of the chorus, most of the audience may well be weeping and/or away in their own thoughts.   To ensure that they come back to be able to fully appreciate the rest of this powerful song, 2 Unlimited choose to provide a lyrical slap around the face to bring the people back to reality..specifically so that they can do it to them again.   Not being content with strong lyrics and an up tempo beat, 2 Unlimited are masters of the eclectic and like to surprise their audience.   I present to you the first rap of the song:

Hard to the core, I feel the floor
When I’m on stage, yo, ya answer more
I’m on the edge, I know the ledge, I work real hard to collect my cash!
Tick tick ticka tick take your time, when I’m goin’ I’m goin’ for mine
Open your ears and you will hear it
I tell you this ’cause there’s no limit!

It is here that they really begin to relate to us, the normal people.   Feeling the floor is clearly representative that, despite there being no theoretical limits to what we can achieve (or indeed what 2 Unlimited have achieved),   it is important to stay grounded.     They show a real connection to the audience when referring to getting answers from “ya” (obviously maintaining their cool street vibe).   Staying grounded means dedication and hard work and the possibility of failure is something to be aware of (hence the ledge).   I am sure that they have been on many a ledge with people yelling jump…these people are naysayers and the fact that 2 Unlimited overcame this and managed to work hard, taking their time to achieve perfection and eventually recieved their just rewards for such perseverence.   The cash referred to here is clearly a metaphor for spiritual salvation, simply translated into something that we, the normal people, could relate to better.   It would have been too obvious and possibly even a little clich??d for them to ask you to open your mind so, 2 Unlimited recognising this, ask you to open your ears…listening is such an important skill.   Of course finally, they remind you of the purpose for delivering this message.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no ,no ,no, no, no, no there’s no limit!

Again, they are really driving home this valuable message to us all.   There are no limits, never forget that.


I won’t focus on the chorus again, it will be difficult to pull you back from your own thoughts, hopes and dreams were I to do so, and I couldn’t be held responsible for you not receiving the rest of this message.

Ow! Hey yay yeah hey hey! Now, now, hey yeah yeh hey hey! Hoo!

Ok, so here…they…umm, well.. clearly this is…joyful exuberance, yeah..joyful exuberance.   Unable to contain themselves, they take a leaf (albeit non-religious) out of the Gospel singers book and simply release their joy.   Got it?   Good.   I am glad you can follow as they move back into the medium of rap for the next verse.

No limits allowed
Cause there’s much crowd
Microphone check as I choose my route
I’m playing on the road
I’ve got no fear, the south from my mouth is on record here
There never will be no mountain too high
Reach the top, touch the sky!
They tried to diss me cause I sell out
I’m making techno and I am proud!

You see now, what they arse..I mean…well they sort of spin this whole thing on its head don’t they.   Not only are there no limits as to what you can do, now they are saying that there are no actual limits allowed.   Sort of setting a limit on limits if you will.   It is this kind of paradoxical genius that sets 2 Unlimited apart.   The reason for limiting limits on limits?   Because there is much crowd apparently.   Much crowd meaning that…possibly….anyway, fuck it…moving on.

Microphone check as they choose their route and playing on the road is clearly a clever paraphrase on the “All the world’s a stage and the men and women merely players” quote.   There aren’t many lyricists that could so eloquently utilise the very words of Shakespeare himself and maintain a catchy beat.   I must confess to clearly being a philistine and of such small intellect that I am unable to penetrate the meaning of the rest of it.   I have consulted many texts and volumes of the worlds books and foremost literary genius, yet can find nothing that adequately allows me to understand the levels of spiritual enlightenment.

I simply allow the words to roll over me and feel the….. oh for fucks sake, it’s bollocks isn’t it.   It’s all bollocks.


What is it with this stupid fucking chorus?   God I hate this song….aaaaaAAAAAARRRRRRGH


Next time, something by either Robbie Williams or The Wengaboyz….or you could make a suggestion in the comments I suppose.


If God told you to do it, it must be ok!

EyetestI was told a story yesterday that has got to be worthy of a mention. It should also be pointed out that, A Division by Zer0 is writing about this too…but damnit I couldn’t pass up writing about it too.

Apparently the other night, MB returned home at around 3am after a session on the beer. Nothing unusual there you might think, but upon entering his domicile, he was confronted by a man….sitting on his couch….and using his computer.

Obviously, the initial “Is this my flat?” confusion and quickly stepping outside to confirm, was rapidly replaced by “WTF!”.   The guy, not content with being sat on someone elses couch at 3am, was remarkably calm.   I suspect that it was this apparent calmness that stopped MB from delivering retribution on a scale only measurable by his bodies alcohol content.   Then it dawned on him, the front door was locked as expected and MB had opened said door in the normal drunken manner (5 attempts to get key in the keyhole that seems to be moving and blurring in and out of focus).   All appeared to be well with the windows…no glass lying around.   How the hell did this miscreant get into the apartment?

Looking toward the kitchen area all was revealed.   This lunatic was actually the neighbour of MB and had cut a hole in the wall between the two apartments.   It transpires late that this was his second attempt, as his first attempt had ended up with the hole being blocked by kitchen units.   The wall is some half meter thick, made of brick and covered with plasterboard.

Please see exhibit A:

A pretty neat job by all accounts.   Upon seeing this, MB enquired as to the nature of this gentlemans visit and was rewarded with a tale of a woman continuously knocking on the wall…and he needed to investigate.   On top of all of this, and with no trace of sarcasm…the lunatic tells MB that “God told me to do it”

God.   Told him to do it.   Seriously…

You would hope that God might have mentioned the modern era invention of doors and the ability to knock on them…at a reasonable hour.   That said, God does move in mysterious ways apparently and, as we are all Gods creatures, this guy decided to be Jerry in this real life cartoon.

It beggars belief, although the thought strikes me that it could have been considerably worse had MB been in when it happened.   If you look at how neat the hole is..chances are that, at some point, there would have been a fucking huge knife or similar poking its way through the plasterboard.   I know myself that I would have instantly shit myself in a horror movie stylee.

Phoning the police was an interesting challenge, as the dispatcher didn’t speak English and repeating the question “Do you know the way to the library?” in ever increasing volume just wasn’t going to cut it for this conversation.   Cue a number of phonecalls to friends with German girlfriends later and the police were called by proxy.

The police arrive (10 of them) to find an incredulous MB…asking lots of questions along the lines of “Is this normal?; This can’t be normal, can it?; Have you seen this before?” and so on.   The police tried to reassure MB and inform him that in fact, no…this was not normal behaviour, nor have they seen this before.   Obviously they arrested the guy, but needed to get into his apartment….which was locked and he hadn’t brought keys.   Clearly he had planned to make more use of his tunnel now that he had made a new friend.   Maybe, once he realised that there was in fact no woman to be found, knocking on the wall or otherwise…he decided that this could be the start of a beautiful friendship.   It is possible that he was using MBs laptop to search Ebay for just the right accoutrements to beautify the new entrance between abodes.   A Mancunian/Frankfurtian lovenest if you will (for MB is indeed a Manc..try not to hold that against him).

In the absence of keys, one of the police officers had to crawl through to this guys apartment..where they discovered the plasterboard and all of the bricks neatly stacked up.

Suffice to say that MB is currently residing in a hotel until the landlord effects the repairs to the property and hopefully evicts the nutter.   Let’s face it, you just know that the coppers won’t be able to hold him long and he will be back…crawling through the tunnel and probably masturbating to goat pr0n on MBs couch, staring at pictures of the Mancunian maestro himself.

It could happen.

Date testimonials?

Discounted BoyHad the weirdest Facebook notification ever today, some application told me that I should add a Date Testimonial. Is that even possible to do?

Don’t get me wrong, I have had some nice comments made about me in the past, but asking for a testimonial..isn’t that taking it a bit far?   Especially as a testimonial is normally written by someone that enjoyed the service you provided and are essentially displayed to help you get more people interested in taking said service…

Choosing a picnic location of the alley behind the Dog and Duck was unusual and surprisingly nice.   The Laughing Wolf has surprisingly dextrous hands and I couldn’t recommend him more.   Since using his services, I have recently been promoted to Burger Flipper, lost 20 pounds and have a healthy sheen to my hair.

Thanks – Tracey – Essex, UK

I suppose it could work….and could only help if I ever decide to become a gigolo.

The Laughing Wolf is amazing, the attention to detail and professional courteous service is second to none.   Highly recommended – Peter – Amsterdam, Netherlands

See!   Now I really think it could…..wait a minute…arse.

Electricity chafes…

I nominate these guys for this year…tis true. Years ago, I was working for a software house in Cheltenham.   During this time the company were undergoing some major changes, including shutting down an office in Surrey and moving operations to Cheltenham.   This meant getting 2 new buildings and setting them up from scratch.   During this time we had mucho fun getting everything ready, and very little sleep was had by myself and Matt.

I point this out as, at some point on the Sunday, Matt and I were checking all of the PCs and printers etc to make sure that everything could login and would work as expected.   The move had actually begun at 17:00 on the Friday and everyone was expecting to begin working as normal at 08:00 on the Monday morning.   Not a lot of time to move some 300 people and all of their equipment.   We managed it…barely.   Anyway, back to the checking of PCs… I think we got to the 3rd floor and went around as before switching everything on.   Matt notices that one of the PCs didn’t fire up…so as we are taking a break, he decides to whip the case off and take a look.   He didn’t take the usual precautions of unplugging the machine, grounding himself etc, but no matter…generally these things don’t pose an issue.

We are chatting away and pretty much trying to stay awake when he asks me for a screwdriver.   On hindsight, I should have questioned why, but as tired as I was I passed one to him.   There then followed this set of events:

Matt:   “Thanks, I think I see what’s wrong”
Matt: THUD
Matt: Slide
Matt: THUD
Matt:   “AAaaaaaaaargh”

He ended up about 10 feet away from where he started, with a hairstyle not dissimilar to Yahoo Serious of Young Enstein fame.   In a moment of genius clarity, he had noticed that the power supply fan was not spinning, decided to jab the screwdriver into it and wiggle around, hoping to dislodge whatever was causing the fan to stick.. Only he went too far, jabbed the screwdriver a little too deep into the gubbins of the PSU and gave himself something of a shock.   The shock sent his body hurtling backwards like something out of a film, the force of this caused him to smack his head into the desk that he was underneath, drag his hand through the gubbins of the PC and eventually smack his head into the wall 10 feet away.

After I stopped laughing, I checked to see if he was ok.   He was…although he had a lump on his head and his hand was bleeding like a good ‘un.   All that was really needed were a small flock of birds to circle around his head, throwing stars up in the air and for smoke to come off his head.

The PC started working though, so it just goes to show …mind you, his watch was never the same again.

This was the company that is essentially responsible for the Fester’esque black circles around my eyes.   Thanks to working an average (honestly) of 21 hours per day, 7 days a week for 9 weeks.   Part way through this, they tell me about the impending closure of the southern office and send me down there to arrive just as the meeting is called.

It was all very cloak and dagger, and not at all pleasant for me.   I had to wait outside and, when the meeting started..someone gave me the signal to get into the building, where I had 25 minutes to lock down and protect the data, admin accounts and even the comms rooms.   This was simply following due dilligance as instructed by the insurance company, but still…I felt like an arsehole.

It worked out ok in the end, but there were a lot of upset people there, not least of all the guys that reported in to me.

Heh, just remembered a trip back with the head of facilities.   We were driving back from Cirencester to Cheltenham in ridiculously thick fog.   It was one of those where you couldn’t see much past the front of the car, so we were driving appropriately slowly as the situation demanded.   Pete mentions that we have to be really alert, as there is a new roundabout around here somewhere..with that, a car goes flying past us and had to be travelling over the speed limit…2 seconds later we realise we are on the roundabout.   I forget the exact chain of events, but Pete points out of the car, up in the air…where we can see red lights…as we come around it is obvious that the red lights belong to the car that had gone past us a couple of seconds earlier…and is now about 30 feet in the air and falling to the ground after hitting a lamppost across the other side of the roundabout.

Pete, being the kindly soul he is…starts calling the guy all sorts of names as we wend our merry way at 5-10mph.   In fairness, we did check that the guy got out ok…but then left him to it.

I think he learned a valuable lesson right there….

Cruel to be kind

Oh my God I look Cute!!Firstly, apologies for the password protected post.   Maybe I will open it up in the future, but right now…that one is for me.

Anyhoo, I was chatting to DS yesterday and was reminded (I forget how) about something that happened a few years ago.

I was walking through a shopping center (mall to you non Brits) when I noticed, some way in front of me, a parent caring for a child in a pushchair…as I got closer I could see that the child was in some distress and was coughing a lot.   Obviously, as a parent myself I was concerned for the little mite, and was even a little relieved when I got close and saw that he had calmed down and was no longer in clear distress.

However, I noticed something…something far more insidious and I recognised it immediately as the possible cause of the poor childs coughing fit.   It was an allergic reaction, and it was so obvious to me that I had to mention it to the father.   I guess that, as a parent, you can’t always notice the dangers around your child, especially from something so innocuous.

So, being the kind hearted parent and good citizen that I am, I leant in close to the father and mentioned..”I think I see what caused your son to choke, I am pretty sure it is an allergic reaction”.   The father looks up at me, somewhat quizzically now, but not dismissive of this strangers advice.   “What is it?” says he.

I take a deep breath, almost a sigh really and point my finger in the direction of the child…pointing directly to a mark on the childs chest.   So obvious now that I come to think of it, I almost felt sorry that this father was so clearly blinded by the love for his child and the distress that he had felt.   He followed my gaze to the offending mark and that’s when he realised and I saw a look of understanding….it was the Manchester United crest on the childs shirt.   A glimmer of recognition flashed across his face and he turns to see me nodding sympathetically.

“That’s close to child cruelty right there” says I, “You are lucky I don’t report you to child services mate” as I back away from the loving fathers swinging fist.   Such a strangely angry reaction for such a random act of kindness from a stranger.

As I rapidly accelerate away, I think to myself:

“There is just no helping some people”

It's all in the lyrics

The ProclaimersOften the best things about any song is how the lyrics seem to apply to your life.   It could be that they seem to have been written specifically for you, or that you extract something powerful and meaningful to yourself from them.   It has to be mentioned though, this doesn’t apply to all songs.

I was on the phone to CW last night and at some point, the unmistakeable strains of 500 Miles by the Proclaimers drifted up into the apartment..

Now, on some levels, the lyrics aren’t all that bad.   It could be taken as a testament to the love that these 2 identical twins   have for this one woman, that they are willing to walk so very far, just to be with her.   I mean it seems to start off fairly well:

When I wake up yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who wakes up next to you
When I go out yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who goes along with you

So, if we are to assume that they go to bed together (one of the twins and the woman….otherwise 8-O ), and she isn’t planning on doing a runner (this assumes she hasn’t heard of the rest of his plans)…chances are that he will wake up next to her, and clearly if plans are made to, say, go for a walk the next morning…her will indeed be the man who goes along with her.   Nothing strange there, some might be overly critical and wonder why he is stating the frickin obvious, but *meh* so far so bland.

If I get drunk yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you
And if I haver yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s havering to you

Ok, getting drunk is starting to show a level of stupidity now.   They already said that they want to go out after waking up next to this woman, but after guys get wrecked, the most we can accomplish the following day is to stagger…stagger like a man in the desert in need of water…to the couch.   Also, most women aren’t overly enamoured by suitors being wrecked..unless they are planning to get wrecked together…but even then I would expect a level of control.   It’s just when you combine it with the last bit that I become concerned.   Not satisfied with getting drunk next to this woman (notice ‘next to’, not with…) he intends to haver her.   Now I know what some of you are thinking, but no..havering is not the act of drunken lovemaking.   It essentially means to talk bollocks.   So this guy, is going to sit next to the object of his affections, get pissed beyond all measurable belief and talk bollocks to her.   Oh you romantic bastard, she will positively swoon with joy at your overt show of affection, she will clearly be wondering if a proposal of marriage will be forthcoming as you have put so much effort into the evening.

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door

Now I don’t know about you, but I have some issues with the chorus.   It seems quite harmless…some may even say sweet…the statement of being prepared to walk 500 miles, and then another 500 miles is almost kind of beautiful.   However, presuming they are in the UK… Land’s End to John O’ Groats is 837 miles by car, walking would be less…which would mean that even if they were seperated by the maximum distance you can be in the UK, he would have to get to her place and then just circle it for a couple of hundred miles, which seems a little dim to me.   On top of this if, you are together in Land’s End after spending such clearly wonderful times waking up and getting drunk (with occasional bouts of bollocks talking), and she moves to John O’ Groats…she is clearly making a statement mate.   Let it go.

Even if it was to be taken as a very romantic gesture and, ignoring all the inherent stupidity in not using some form of transportation (bad as it is), she was willing to welcome you with open arms…would you really fall down at her door?   I mean, wouldn’t it make more sense to fall down on her couch….with a cup of tea?   Or maybe fall onto her doorbell…so she would at least know you were there.   You made it 1000 miles, you have been walking around her block for almost 200 miles, presumably without stopping.   You can make it in the house…have a little faith dude.

When I’m working yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s working hard for you
And when the money comes in for the work I’ll do
I’ll pass almost every penny on to you

Working hard for her…nice sentiment.   I like that, it shows a level of responsibility and commitment that have so far been lacking.   Be careful though, giving all of your money to her is a dangerous thing, you will have none left for taking her out and getting drunk with her.   After all, you can’t expect her to pay all of the time, surely you aren’t that guy.

When I come home yeah I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who comes back home to you
And if I grow old well I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man who’s growing old with you

Yet another obvious statement, presuming that she hasn’t taken all of his money and ran off with the Window Cleaner.   If they are living together, he will be coming back home to her when he goes home.   Does it need to be said?   Really?

The next line interests me though..”If I grow old”, IF…. Maybe there is some secret immortality recipe mixed in with the batter of the deep fried Mars Bars that the Scottish fellows are known to eat.   Maybe a study could be done to see if   high fat/cholesterol is akin to a delicious fountain of youth type thing?   Either that or they realised that they had overused the word “when” and needed to shake it up a little, just to keep us on our toes….Either way I am impressed.

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door

Nuff said about the chorus really…

When I’m lonely yes I know I’m gonna be
I’m gonna be the man whose lonely without you
When I’m dreaming yes I know I’m gonna dream
Dream about the time when I’m with you.

Is he suggesting she is going to die here?   I mean, they just got together right?   She is a catch dude!   Admittedly, after you got pissed and started talking bollocks, she moved as far away as she could get without leaving the country…but with the whole walking thing you won her back…clearly there is love there.   What’s wrong?   Was it the chase that was the most interesting thing, now it’s all “Stop talking bollocks and are you drinking again!   My mother is coming over, you better not say anything like that to her…” etc etc etc.   This just says to me that maybe you should walk the 800 miles back and find someone else.   Dream about her?   I would guess your natural (and obvious) stalker tendencies would mean you are prone to such things…maybe you are dreaming about the time you wrapped your hands around her throat…in an effort to stop her nagging.

But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door

Stupid fucking chorus….

Next week…No Limit by 2 Unlimited ;-)