Stupidity 1 : Border Crossings

via Cryptogram, I came across Tom Kyte’s story of a border crossing – it sounds like it should be from a script of “Some Mothers Do Have Them”.

Brilliant. Funny. And just slightly scary…


Unable to Buy

All the major UK media carried a story yesterday about how public workers can’t afford to buy houses. I’m sorry, but I’m actually quite unsympathetic about this.

You see, the public workers that are mentioned in the story are teachers, nurses, police, and firefighters. And with the exception of the teachers, all the others are a self-inflicted problem. Well, not self-inflicted per se, but most certainly it’s a problem that’s come about through the decisions of the employers of these public workers about 20-25 years ago.

Before the 1980s, hospitals, police forces, and fire brigades all had subsidised accommodation for their staff/members (whichever you want to call them). In some areas, the police and nurses in particular had whole housing estates of subsidised housing. The same is true of the MoD, and soldiers having subsidised housing although even that is now coming to an end.

In the 80s and 90s, though, the various authorities (regional police forces, health authorities etc.) decided to sell off those housing areas, and make some money. OK, a load of money. So that’s what they did – bang, all the subsidised housing getting sold, giant profits being made on the sales, and not a thought to what would happen in the future.

And that’s what resulted in the current situation. If the subsidised housing were still available, the affordability of it for those key workers in the public services wouldn’t be an issue.

Just another case of short-sighted (and greedy) actions for a quick profit, and no thought to the future…


Workload Chaos

At the start of March, I was doing OK. I had my normal full-time work, one client site that needed the final bits done to it now that the proof-of-concept had worked, and one ‘own project’ site that was coming together nicely. In addition, I was busy quoting for work, and sounding out a couple of potential clients – not in a stupid way, though, as I was fully expecting one to come in quite quickly, and the other to take a bit of time before it all got off the ground. It was at least semi-organised, and semi-planned.
Six weeks later, I think that it’s just possible I’m on the edge of a precipice above shit creek. As well as normal full-time work, which is ongoing, I’ve now got not one but two client sites that need working on. Like, right now. Both could (if not downright should) be full-time jobs in their own right, but they’re both part-time.
And that would be (just about) OK if it weren’t for the additional fact that there’s still that other client site that still needs the final bits doing (and a name to be decided upon). Oh, and another one from the same client that stands to be a useful little project, where I’ve got the domain name(s) sorted, and currently not much else.
And then there’s all the house stuff as well. Oops.
In the name of sanity, I’m not going to work on any ‘own project’ sites for a couple of months while I get everything else dealt with. (Well, I say that, but I bet it changes…)
Thankfully, at least one of the two client sites that needs working on is going to take a week or so in order to get everything set up satisfactorily in the first place. That might just give me the time I need to look at that longer-term-outstanding site, and get it sorted/finalised. That’s if I’m lucky.
I know, this is always the way it ends up happening, particularly with IT, websites, and, well, just being self-employed. That doesn’t make it any easier then things suddenly jump from ‘ambling along, doing fine’ to ‘holy crap, loads to do’ though, no matter how many times it’s happened before, or even with the knowledge that it’ll be absolutely sure to happen again. Best laid plans, and all that.


Boo-Hoo

Awww, poor baby.

We get a lot of coughing wherever we go, even when we go abroad to Spain. Generally it’s good humoured, and if it gets intimidating we just walk away.

“But there’s a very small minority in the local community who are really vitriolic and make our lives hell.”

Now without even trying, I know that most UK readers will have a pretty good idea who might be griping here.

And yes, some of the (alleged) incidents are quite unpleasant, but basically the guy lives in a Jeffery Archer-esque life where you can’t believe at least half of what he says anyway, so *shrug*


It’s what?

This one may be just me not paying attention, but has anyone else seen the new advert for Citroën cars ?

I only listen to the advert, rather than watch it, but every time it makes me look up.

Basically, they blither on about cars, prices etc., and then I hear

The shit Citroën C1

I think they mean chic, but maybe the pronunciation leaves something to be desired…


Birth Rights

I have to admit that I find myself feeling quite unsympathetic towards Natalie Evans, the woman who has just lost her case (for the fourth time) to be able to make use of embryos created with her partner of the time before she underwent treatment for cancer.

Now yes, I’m sure that it’s ‘preferable’ to have a child of your own, and all that jazz, but at the same time she appears (in this case) to be quite obsessed with the matter – to the extent of wanting the child of a partner she’s split up with, because they’re the embryos that are available. I can kind of understand wanting to have your ‘own’ child, but that- to me, anyway – is going too far, to attempt to legally force your ex-partner to become a father, even though he no longer wants anything to do with you. To drag it out for six years makes it sound even more obsessive.

In my own cynical mind I also suspect that any child this woman had borne would be an utter hellspawn , because she’d wanted it so much, its every whim would be catered for. Of course, that’s just me being cynical, I’ve no proof of it.


Nagging

While I have to admit that in general we’re both pretty pleased with the TomTom satnav unit I bought earlier in the year, there is one thing that I wish I could change.
TomTom operates in what I refer to as “Goldfish Mode”. Much the same as the voiceovers in Masterchef (Sorry, Masterchef goes Large, god help us all) and Dragon’s Den, TomTom assumes you have- at best- a memory span of thirty seconds. Which means you get instructions like

“In 500 yards, turn right at the roundabout, first exit.“
You get to about 100 yards from the roundabout.
“Turn right at the roundabout, first exit“
You get to the roundabout, and start to go round it
“Take the exit“

It drives me insane, and a lot of the time I find that it’s actually distracting, because you start to wonder if you’ve missed something relevant.
All I want is an option on the menu that says “Just notify me of the directions ONCE” that I can tick, and not be treated like I’m a bloody idiot. I know, lowest common denominator and all that bollocks, but jesus, just once, can’t something also have options that aren’t for that low-end user?


Take the Hint

While we were away last week, Radio One were doing a big promotion about getting someone to join the cast (pardon the pun) on Castaway, the BBC’s latest attempt at ‘reality’ TV. Within the promo, there was one person from the existing cast who was quoted as saying

If I walk into a room with ten people in it, eight of them will hate me within ten minutes

Now maybe I’m missing something, but if that were me, I’d try taking the hint, and realise that perhaps I’m not the nicest person on the planet. I’d do something to change it.

But no, this nong sounds quite proud of it…


Dropping Calls

Sometimes you just have to wonder how people have managed to live so long.

It’s amazing to me, the number of people who still seem amazed that calls to/from their mobile phones drop out when they’re on the train. Every time the call drops, they take the phone away from their face, and look at it in amazement, as if it’s never happened to them before. Ever. Not even ten seconds ago.

And even then, they don’t get the concept. They call back, start talking again, and bong, the call drops. You’re in an area of shit reception, you moron – it won’t change in the space of ten seconds. (OK, in fairness, it might – but the odds aren’t good, let’s be honest) As always, it’s not rocket science – but it might as well be.

Even more traumatic, of course, is when they call back, and the phone won’t connect. It has no reception, you moron – look at the little icon with the radio mast, it’s got no fucking bars on it! But that’s a horrific concept straight out of the eighteenth century, isn’t it. No mobile coverage? Where are we, the moon? No. Norfolk. The county that motorways forgot.


Posters

I’ve written before about the office’s wonderful (if bizarre) Health and Safety initiatives, including the ‘caution: wet floor’ signs you can trip over and the signs on the stairs warning that there may be people on them.

Over the last few days, there’ve been a spate of new posters going up all over the place, warning about slips, falls, dangerous areas and the like. Most of them have images of x-rayed broken hands and the like.

All of these posters have been laminated, and stuck to the walls with dodgy knackered blu-tac stuff. So they fall off the walls again. Because of the subject matter, they’re all in ‘high-traffic’ areas, like the stairwells, communal areas, and the like.

I’m just waiting now for someone to slip on one of these posters and come skating down the stairs, doing themselves a nasty injury along the way. I will laugh – not at the person who’s fallen, but at the concept of the Health and Safety signs being dangerous in certain situations…


Late Amendments

Gah, there are times when I’m such a twonk, it’s unreal.

I’ve just redone some things on my photography portfolio site, having decided (once I’d uploaded a whole bundle of photos at one size) to change the image sizes so that the site looks better. And now, having re-uploaded all the photos that were there before, and some extra ones as well, something else has just occurred to me.

Fortunately, this one isn’t likely to involve me having to redo all the uploads, and I can change things around primarily using PHP.

But it’s still one of those blinding moments of “Ah! That’s an idea! Why didn’t I think of it earlier?” that can be awesomely annoying, even when they are a good idea, even if it’s one I should’ve had like two months ago.


Crosswords

When I’m travelling on the train, at least once a week I sit near a person who does various crosswords. They’re nothing heavily brain-straining (Actually, that’s just my estimation of the things – I’m sure other people do find them more difficult) as we’re talking about the crosswords in magazines like ‘Take A Break’, ‘Bella’, or whatever.

Anyway, what makes me think every time is that this person gets out a crossword-solving thing (Kind of like this device) where they type out the letters they’ve got, and it returns a list of possible words. And they do this for a good three-quarters of the crossword.

Now maybe this is just me, but where’s the fun in that? If you’re going to do the crossword, fine, do the crossword. If you’re at the end, and completely stumped, fine, use something that’s supplemental to your own vocabulary, brain and/or literacy level.

But somehow using something like that device to answer all the questions, rather than figuring them out for yourself, well I don’t know, but to me that just seems like cheating. But maybe that’s just me, I don’t know.


Automotive

So, this coming weekend it looks like I’m finally going to become the owner of a car. How scary is that?

Up ’til now I’ve been able to resist such a thing. Firstly because I didn’t drive (’til eighteen months ago, give or take) and then because, well, I still didn’t need one of my own. If I did need one of my own for anything (like going away for the weekend, say) I hired one.

But now, it’s (hopefully) coming close to the time when we move to the new place, out in the arse-end of nowhere. No, not Norfolk – we’re there already. But this is more ‘arse-end of nowhere, even for Norfolk’, which is a pretty scary concept in itself.

But that also means that yes, it’s time to buy a car. So I’m off to see and test-drive a couple I’ve got my eye on over the weekend, and we’ll see what happens. In the meantime, well, be afraid. Be very afraid…


Changing Lanes

I know, I know, every time I rent a car, I end up having a rant about bad drivers.

And this time is no different, you’ll be pleased to know.

But for once it’s not about those tossers who sit in the middle lane and never fucking move.

No, in this case it’s all based around roadworks. Now I suspect the roadworks is something that most people could rant about – particularly the fact that you can go past entire sets of roadworks and not see one single bloody person is working, or even visible.

But what gets me – unsurprisingly – is certain people’s driving ability. Or lack of.

I just don’t understand the mind-set that comes up when one lane is closed – and signposted as such from a good two miles off – and people still drive right to where the lane is coned off before trying to pull in to the still-open lane. It screws up the traffic flow, and leads to those self-same tailbacks that they’ve just cruised past. Cunts. But of course, that’s not their problem, so long as they’ve managed to get past all the other drivers.

Mind you, it’s bloody funny when some smeghead scrote BMW driver who’s gone roaring past everyone is then blocked entry by all those same drivers…


Ooops

Now this is enough to make any man cry. Well, that and snigger smugly too. Schadenfreude (and Month of the Bastard) is alive and well, after all.

A beautiful Bugatti Veyron crashed into a tree. Personally, I couldn’t ever spend £800,000 on a car – but all the same, the owner of it must be bloody livid right about now.


Cunts (Missing in Action 4)

Well, it’s established – Ticketmaster are utter, utter cunts.

Thank you for your email.

The tickets you have received are part of an event that is general admission and as such the event has a limited capacity, which is set by Health and Safety. Ticketmaster is unable to issue duplicate tickets for this event as it may cause the event to go over capacity, as we are unable to cancel the original tickets, therefore they can still be used.

This is a decision that is made by the individual venue and Ticketmaster as an agent has to adhere to this. If the venue goes over capacity, the venue could lose its license, which could jeopardise all future events, due to this we cannot re-issue your tickets.

Ticketmaster’s policy is that once a booking has been confirmed, it cannot be exchanged or refunded unless the event is cancelled. So unfortunately we cannot issue you with a refund of the cost of the tickets. Due to these reasons i have passed on a request to our customer service department to contact Secure Mail to investigate this situation. In doing this we will try and make a claim against Secure Mail to refund your booking.

Our representative from customer services will contact you as soon as possible regarding the outcome of the investigation.

I am sorry i cannot help you any further.

So – you ordered tickets, we sent them to the wrong address, where they were signed for by someone obviously not you. That’s your fault. You should’ve known that we’d use a courier ‘service’ (I use that term as loosely as possible) instead of using recorded delivery royal mail like we did for the Massive Attack tickets (which, funny enough, came straight to me, no problem at all) and gone back to your old address for the day when we were going to deliver them.

A refund? Fuck off. It’s all your fault.

And I suppose it is. After all, I ordered using Ticketmaster. My mistake. But believe me, I’ll never make the same mistake again, you cunts.


Missing in Action 3

An update, an email from the idiots at Ticketmaster…

Thank you for your email.

Given the nature of your request it has been forwarded to our Customer Service Department for further investigation. However, this sometimes requires assistance from third parties, such as promoters and venues and may take a little longer to look into.

We are grateful for your co-operation, as every effort is made to reach a satisfactory outcome for you. We will contact you with a response as soon as possible.

The gig’s tomorrow. So whatever happens, the outcome ain’t going to be satisfactory…


Month of the Bastard (MOTB)

I’ve decided that for the month of March, I’m going to feed my inner bastard. Any number of things that normally get on my tits will be dealt with in a very different manner to usual. This includes, but is not limited to :

  • People who have walked past four display screens telling them where the train is going, get on the train, and then ask “Is this the train for Ely / Norwich?”. The answer in March will be “No”.
  • Couples walking arm-in-arm towards me and blocking the entire path, with no intention of seperating or moving, as if they’re actually physically joined at the hip. During March, I will not be avoiding them, or stepping into the road to go round them.
  • In a similar vein, the chuffwit tosspots who ride their bikes down the pavement, ringing their bell so the pedestrians get out of their way. Steel-toecapped boots will be used in enterprising ways on these doughnuts during the month
  • On trains, the nongs who sit in the outer seat of a pair (i.e. the one closest to the aisle) with no-one on the inner seat, then sigh when someone wants to sit in the empty seat. These people may be sat on…

Hail, Ceasar

I love this – the multi-billion dollar Space Shuttle, whose next launch has been delayed because of a hailstorm.
In fairness, golfball-sized hail is fairly impressive, and 7000 dents/impacts isn’t to be shrugged off either, but all the same, Hail halts Shuttle. Bloody marvellous.


Backlog

Of course, the issue with being out of the office all day yesterday is that there’s a bundle of stuff to get done.

So it’s taken me two hours to catch up on everything from yesterday.

Mind you to most of the people here, the bundle of work that was waiting for me would’ve taken three days to eliminate…


Indecisive

Despite my *cough* years of working with large organisations – and particularly with public sector organisations – I still find it amazing how indecisive those companies can be.

For instance, when I was ‘lucky’ enough to work in Oldham, it took them over a year to decide which CMS to use. It then took them another six months to get everything sorted and working, and all migrated to the chosen CMS.

In the current place, it’s already taken a year to choose a CMS. It’s taken even longer for them to decide on which forum they should be using for another project. That one’s nearer to 18 months already.

I just don’t understand how these things can take so long. Well, I do understand how it takes so long – it’s the why that completely befuddles the chuff out of me. The how involves feasibility assessment matrices, vendor presentations, further assessment exercises, discussions about discussions about processes about discussions about the preamble to the migration process, further feasibility assessments, checking with IT, and business streams, that what we might order is compatible with what they might order in another year’s time, so on and so forth.

It’s just amazing that anything actually gets done at all…


Organising That Health-check

So yes, the healthcheck that finally happened on Friday was an utter nightmare to organise.

It started off with being told that I needed to sort one out, and that the insurance company had engaged a third party who would contact me to organise an appointment at my convenience.

Yeah, right. What actually happened was that the company called me up and said “We’ve made an appointment for one of our nurses to come and see you at home on Tuesday at 4pm”. Which is hardly at my convenience. So I called them back and told them so.

Them : “But why don’t you want an appointment at home on Tuesday at 4pm? We’ve made all the arrangements”
Me : “Because I’m not going to be at home at that time. I’ll be at work. If your company is willing to pay me to take half a day off work to come and see you, I might consider it”
Them : “No, we can’t do that. But we don’t understand what the problem is with this appointment, it’s at your home at 4pm”
Me : “Amazing as this may seem to you, I work. Maybe I’m the only person you’ve ever dealt with who works, but there we go. So 4pm on a weekday is not convenient. I’m home for about 7pm, if that helps”
Them : “Oh no, our nurses only work 9-5”.

At which point I ended up going back to the insurers and telling them they could stuff their business. The people they engaged would have problems discerning between an arse and an elbow, and there was no way I was using them. So they promised to organise something else, a proper medical at a proper doctor’s surgery. However, it would still be organised through a third party.

And then I got another call about a week later, from the first third party, still trying to make a ‘convenient’ appointment for me on a workday at 4pm, and which for an appointment ‘at my convenience’ was strangely immovable. This time they got told to sod off.

When the second third party finally called, the first thing they said was “So, you need an appointment in Norfolk?”. At which I think I growled. The woman at the other end certainly seemed surprised. I re-explained the situation (actually, that’s probably more like re-re-re-re-explained, but there we go), and they finally discovered a surgery that was close to the workplace. Halle-bloody-lujah.

But all told it’s still taken four weeks to organise a poxy medical. But if my blood-pressure is too high (I doubt it will be, but still) I’m going to blame it all on the poxy fucking insurance company and their medical third parties. So there.


Patronised

Ah, the joys of being patronised by medical ‘professionals’.
“Well, Mr Lyle, you’re really rather overweight, aren’t you?”

which really should get the response “Really? And there I was, hoping to climb Everest tomorrow“, instead of the one I gave, which was “Yes. And?“. To which the twat had no answer.


Health Check

One of the real pains (and one I haven’t yet written about on D4D™ – believe me, it’s coming) with our house-buying process at the moment has been that as part of the entire mortgage malarkey, we’ve both been advised to get some proper life-insurance, that’d cover the whole amount of the mortgage should one of us suddenly develop a ‘critical’ illness or drop dead. Of course, that also means having to deal with another load of financial scumbags – insurers.

Back in Jan 2005, I got one lot of cheap-ass life insurance on Herself’s insistence (in fairness, she got some too) which became not-such-cheap-ass insurance when the insurance scumbag underwriters at Norwich Poxybollocks Union decided I was overweight, and whacked an extra amount on my premium. Not a lot, to be honest, but still rather more than the initial quotation had been. Bastards.

Since then, I’ve lost a fair amount of weight, although (as I’ve commented many times) I’m still never going to be 12-15stone without going through at least one limb amputation. That’s a fact of life. I’m not unfit – OK, I’m not fit either, but there we go – and… oh, chuff it, you all know the score by now.

Anyway, with the mortgage application and insurance guff, the scumbag insurance underwriters have – again – thrown a wobbly. And they’ve insisted that this time I don’t just pay extra, I have to have a ‘health check’ too before they might deign to take my money.

So while you’re reading this, I’m in a random doctor’s surgery, having a basic medical and healthcheck for scumbag dirtwad insurers . Whoopee Doo.


Charming

It’s not just me who can be charmless, of course.

On the train last night, the two people opposite me were talking about whether they’d make their connecting train from Norwich. Now, the XDA phone has it’s uses, and the mini-version of IE is one of them. So, being in a fairly mellow mood, I checked the arrival time of the current train, and when their connecting one would go.

And I let them know that they’d be OK, and would have about ten minutes between trains.

The response? Absolutely chuff all. Not a word of thanks, just a nod of the head in acknowledgement of the information.

Tossers. And then people wonder why I end up being rude to them…


Desperate

(Kind of following on from my earlier post about programmes, cancellations and the like.)
Oh dear God, no, please.

[TV Show ‘Desperate Housewives”] creator Marc Cherry has just signed a four-year deal with US TV network ABC, ensuring the future of the suburban comedy series.

Trade paper Variety reports that the key members of the cast, including Teri Hatcher and Felicity Huffman, will remain with the programme as long as Cherry is involved.

The writer indicated that the show would end in 2011, saying: “I think that at the end of my deal and after seven seasons it will be a good time to call it quits.

As if it hadn’t already become dire enough, another four years?!?

Fuck me dead, there’s just no justice in the world.


Suckers

Do people really fall for shite spam like this ? (and it’s a direct copy/paste, so don’t blame me for the spelling mistakes etc.)

I started looking for opportunities to make money on the internet about a year ago.I knew with the massive increase of people using the internet, there had to be a way of making a good income online.

I spent the next 6 months trying every business opportunity online.I was scammed by about 50 get rich quick schemes
and lost over $5000 in 6 months.All these making money programs said the same thing, “They were gonna help me make a lot of money with out any experience”.

Out of the 50 programs I tried, 47 were complete scams and just took my money.Only 3 of the programs actually worked for me.Check out this site: [DELETED]

On this site you will find reviews of the top 3 opportunities that actually work.These programs guarantee you online success.
All you have to do is follow there expert advice.

I mean, really, how stupid would you have to be?


Amateur Hour

As regular readers of D4D™ will have noticed by now, I absolutely hate working with bloody amateurs.

At the moment, the entire network at work has the stability of overcooked spaghetti, and completely dies with depressing regularity. By which I mean roughly every 20-25 minutes. No connection to network servers, no connection to the outside world, no nothing. Even when it is working, it’s still flakier than the Singing Detective, with particular gems including that (according to our system) the BBC News website doesn’t exist. Not even that it’s taking longer than usual to connect, but it just doesn’t exist.

And yet the IT support department insists there isn’t a problem.
“Oh, we’ve checked, and everything’s fine”
“So why can’t I connect to anything?”
“Um, dunno. But we’ve checked, and everything’s fine”

It’s driving me (and everyone else in the office) fuckin’ mental. And the IT Support (and their superiors that this is already being escalated to) have all the technical skills of yoghurt.

It’s going to be a very long day…


Fuuuuck

Well, we got the mortgage offer through this weekend, so that’s the first big hurdle out of the way, at least.

But Jesus, when you look at the details, it’s fucking offensive.

For every pound you borrow, you pay back £2.30

Fuuuuuck. That takes the piss. How does anyone get away with that?

Basically, for a £200,000 mortgage, we get to pay back the princely sum of £440,000. If nothing else, it reinforces my opinion that the financial industry are, in fact, an utter bunch of cunts.


Wide Open Vista

When it was released, I wrote a small post about why I had no intention of moving to MS Vista® – and from the news stories etc. that’ve followed on, I have to say I’m pretty cool with being right about it.

This piece from The Register demonstrates my case nicely.

The basic summary? Wait at least until Service Pack 1 is released.


Table for Two

I didn’t link to this yesterday, primarily because otherwise I’d have just had a surfeit of cynicism – on Valentines Day?!? Me? Who’d have thunk it – but this piece on FireandKnives.com brought back many memories of managing pubs and hotels on Valentine’s Day.

As one high-end chef, anonymous for obvious reasons, put it “Everything shitty, clichéd, and horribly 80s gets wheeled out. Duo of lamb chops, cut to resemble hearts. Coeur a la fucking créme. There will be at least one nancying, ninnying chicken dish, especially for the ladies, and steak, which will be ordered by 80% of the men. Well-done, of course – medium if you’re lucky”.

Me? I used to run singles nights on February 14, and got in all the people who’d been displaced from their usual eateries. We made a packet out of it.


VD

Oh yeah, the header image up at the top of the page today (and for one day only)?

It’s a heavily cropped and buggered-about-with image of Al Capone’s infamous “Valentines Day Massacre”.

Very á propos


Reasoned Argument

Gordon, in a comment on yesterday’s *Barf* post, says

Why is he a wanker? Come on, gimme a reasoned argument!

So here we go…

  1. First off, he’s a wanker for wrapping the house. OK, supposedly it’s romantic. But what the hell is he going to do with 500metres (1,650 ft, give or take) of paper now? The git had better be recycling it…
  2. Buying a house for Valentines Day. The woman’s not even his wife. Personally, I hope she ditches the twat tomorrow, and keeps the house. Fair play to her. A stunt like this means he’s just begging to get screwed over.<cynicism>
  3. A direct quote from the article : “Last year, I just took her out to dinner which wasn’t much of a present, so I thought I’d better do something special to make up for it“.
    Need any more evidence of wankerdom?
  4. Directly related to the point above, this guy is the kind of knob who has to outdo himself every year. If he’s spent £500,000 this year, what’s he going to do next?
  5. At the end of the day, this has been done for Valentine’s Day. A marketing fest for overpriced cards, flowers, and sentiments. Buying a house? Kind of over-stepping the mark, me thinks
  6. Finally, another direct quote: “I can paint beautiful scenery and wildlife from my own balcony and Maria can enjoy the fruits of the private spa.“
    I need say no more.

In other news, more sentimental cack for your delectation.


Taking the Piss

I was looking the other day at the Interflora website – as you do – and couldn’t help but check out the extortionate prices for roses etc., bearing in mind the proximity of Valentine’s Day.

Anyway, I had to laugh when I saw this particular bouquet, and particularly the price of it. One hundred red roses for £500!

So yes, that’s £5 per rose.

Some people have more money than sense…

And in the meantime, Happy Valentines Day. Or something.


*Barf*

There’s only one word for this ‘romantic’ man, who bought a £500,000 ‘waterside cottage’ for his girlfriend and then wrapped it all in paper, as a present. (Like she couldn’t figure out what it might be)

Wanker

Mind you, seeing as the story is on the news today, at least the surprise has been blown. Which makes me smile.


L-Plate

Related to the post on Saturday about that box junction in Cambridge:

Today, I saw a learner-driver, in the instructor’s car, do exactly the same thing. Just stopped, in the path of an oncoming bus.

That might be a long-term fix to the problem : either

  1. let all the shit instructors get killed by their pupils
    or
  2. teach the pupils properly in the first fucking place

I think that’d do it. Eventually.


Chaos

Due to a variety of events over the weekend, today is likely to be quiet here while I sort out lots of domestic crap, and deal with solicitors, estate agents and the like.

Depending on how all that goes, I may or may not be posting here – only time will tell.

Or, of course, I could just end up having a huge rant…


Box Junction

Just down the road from where I work, there’s a big four-way crossroads, which is invariably snarled up and jammed. There are actually two reasons for this :

  1. It’s been designed by an utter tosser
  2. People are tossers

Reason One is fairly standard – after all, it’s just a four-way crossroads with a nightmare of traffic lights.

Reason Two, though, is different, although it’s related to Reason One. Because the traffic lights screw things up, the planners/designers decided to make it ‘safer’, and covered the entire junction with yellow cross-hatch markings. It’s a box junction.

Box junctions aren’t difficult to deal with – well, unless you’re a BMW driver – and the simple rule is At signalled roundabouts you MUST NOT enter the box unless you can cross over it completely without stopping.. Not rocket science, is it?

But the reason this junction is a nightmare is because everyone ignores that concept completely, and instead buckets into the junction, try to turn, and then realise they can’t get out of the junction. And oooh, look – suddenly they’re blocking the next flow of traffic, which invariably includes a sodding big bus. Oops.

I have no idea how this can be fixed, and nor do I have any idea how you can get drivers to look ahead and figure out that there’s nowhere for them to go. Personally, I can’t see a problem with a car that detects the road markings, and if you stop on a box junction, it gives you a small electric shock. That’d soon stop it. Just call me Mr Pavlov…

Mind you, if I could come up with the answers to either of those things, I’d be a very wealthy man.


Chicken

So, did I go to Brixton last night to see Massive Attack?

No, I didn’t.

I can’t deny it, I chickened out. Instead, I just ended up going home, and curling up with a laptop and a website that needed some work. Not the most productive, and definitely not as much fun as seeing Massive Attack would’ve almost certainly been.

But I gave up. I looked at the road maps, and the traffic reports, then at where I needed to go, and combined it with my usual cynical attitude towards people, and figured I couldn’t be arsed.

Mind you, looking at the roads this morning, and the fact there were three or four abandoned (i.e. had slid/skidded off the road) cars this morning on the bit I’d have been driving on at roughly 1am, I don’t think I was being too stupid to figure it was just not worth the hassle.


Plotting

I don’t know if it’s just me that finds this amusing, but there’s a certain juxtaposition in the media at the moment that makes me smile.

In Box One, we have this story, about an alleged ‘plot’ in the UK to kidnap a Muslim member of the UK armed forces, and behead him, a la the Iraq kidnappings of Ken Bigley, et al.

In Box Two, we have this, where UK police are warning people to be on the alert for suspect packages being sent in the mail.

So – we have one ‘terrorism’ plot, which could’ve been lifted from pretty much any Tom Clancy type thriller, that was detected before it even (supposedly) happened, and the media says “Oh, that’s terrible, good old security forces”. We have another ‘terrorism’ scheme – this time which is already happening, and which is harming people – and the police haven’t got a bloody clue who, where, when, why, how, or whatever. Yet the media stays quiet, rather than asking “Eh? How’s that happened?”.

In short, yet again I’m being brought to the conclusion that these alleged plots are an utter, utter load of old bollocks, custom-designed to keep people scared.


Not Getting It

Sometimes you just have to laugh at the way the government just doesn’t get the entire internet and chatroom thing. In this instance, the story about registered sex offenders having to provide details of their email addresses and ‘chatroom identities’ (no, I’m not making this up)

Anyone who’s actually used Internet Chat (whether it be MSN, Yahoo, ICQ, whatever) will know how easy it is to set up email addresses, profiles, IDs, the lot. God, if I think back a couple of years to when I haunted Yahoo chat, I had a couple of hundred IDs.

So it amuses me when they’re talking about registering ‘paedophile IDs’ – it’s so easy to set up another one, this really is either a) an attempt to say ‘look how on top of things we are’ or b) a proper display of knowing chuff-all about anything technological and/or internet based.

Or c) both. Which I guess is the most likely…


Health and Safety Signs

As I’ve written before, my current workplace has an unhealthy (and frankly ridiculous) obsession with health and safety, and particularly with regard to warning signs. They haven’t yet put ‘danger of electric shock’ on all the plug sockets, but it wouldn’t surprise me.

We’re not even allowed to use light switches. Instead, the office has automatic sensors, and if nothing’s moving near those sensors, the light goes out. So far, so green, and all well and good. It can be weird if you’re the only person in a section of the office, and the lights start going out all round you, but there we go, that’s the way it is.

However, the lights in the toilets also work like this. Which again isn’t so bad in general. It means the energy doesn’t get wasted, blah blah. But the sensors are quite a way inside the toilet room, by five or six paces. So you go in, the door closes, you walk forwards, and then the light goes on.

Perceptive readers may have seen the flaw here.

Today, the toilet floor had been mopped, and was slippy. So the cleaners put up a little sign to warn people the floor was wet – as per Health and Safety.

Only, because the light was off when I went in, and walked forwards, rather than slipping on a wet floor (which had dried off in the meantime) instead I tripped over the fucking warning sign, which I didn’t see before the light went on.

I haven’t yet decided whether to report this as a problem…


Mac vs PC

Charlie Brooker in blinding form (you may need to do a dumb free registration thing, I don’t knowCheers, Jann, for the reg-free link!) about Macs…

I hate Macs. I have always hated Macs. I hate people who use Macs. I even hate people who don’t use Macs but sometimes wish they did. Macs are glorified Fisher-Price activity centres for adults; computers for scaredy cats too nervous to learn how proper computers work; computers for people who earnestly believe in feng shui.

It’s all in regard to the new set of ads from Apple about PCs versus Macs starring Mitchell and Webb.

I like the ads, although I have to say, personally I’m not a fan of Macs. Maybe I should be, but I’m just not. My personal opinion is that they’re expensive, over-branded, over-iconified (it’s not a word, but bloody well should be) and a nightmare to upgrade.

Sorry, but I’ll stick with PCs for the moment, regardless of whether or not I supposedly should want a Mac.


Making Things Simple

Over the last three weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of work on a new site. The basic premise is that it needs to be very user-friendly, easy to use, quick, smooth, and useable. I’ve got my own ideas about a lot of this, and on the initial development work, I’ve been applying quite a few of them to what I’m doing.

One particular thing that drives me crackers when I’m using a website is – to use the example of on-line banking – when I have to go through a seperate page to ‘select an account’ when I’ve only got one account. To me, if that’s the case, I’d far rather that the system had some logic, and effectively figured out for itself (OK, was programmed to ‘realise’) that if I’ve only got one account, I don’t need to select that account, it’s fine to go straight through to the account details page.

Anyway, I’ve been working to a similar kind of idea on the site, and while in theory it’s simple, it actually turned out to be (in some ways) a real pain. Yes, the logic is also simple, it’s just that it does take a couple of extra steps in order to get it to work.

But when it does work, it’s really nice, and makes life a lot easier.

Why is it, though, that making things simple to use can be incredibly complex in the back-end, whereas making things really complex and obstructive is actually dead easy?


Handwritten – an Update

About a week ago, I wrote about the cashpoint (ATM) machine with the handwritten notice on it – which (to my surprise) garnered no comments at all.

Anyway, walking past the same pair of machines today, I noticed that this time the same one was out of order, but had up the machine’s default “Out of service – please use another machine” message on the display. No handwritten sign was in evidence at all.

I wonder if anyone’s noticed yet that they lost money last week?


Homeless

Most people won’t be surprised by this, but on occasion I can be very uncharitable. Not just when watching things like Relocation Relocation (and Dear GOD, Relocation2 brings out the uncharitable bastard in me) but also when faced with – in particular – Big Issue sellers.

I don’t know why – I think that the Big Issue is a fantastic idea- but I just never give money to the people selling it. I’ve done work with a charity for the homeless, and I do a fair amount of work with other charities, with more coming up over the duration of this year. But when it comes to actually giving money to people who are homeless, I just don’t.

A lot of it is that I really don’t like the idea of paying people to remain homeless – of giving money to someone because they’re homeless, and perhaps of contributing to a tax-free income. At least with the charities I deal with, I know that the people who benefit truly are homeless. When someone is just on the street, well, you don’t know. I’ve seen a couple of “homeless” people, even in Cambridge, who pack up their begging gear, stick it in a car, and (I assume) then go home. It’s a tax-free income based on peoples guilt.

So I don’t know. In some ways I feel like I’m really cynical and uncharitable (and OK, I am) but not all the time. And at least I try to balance that out by doing some good stuff with places where the money and work will go to the truly deserving people.


Gotcha

Ah, the joys of seeing someone hoist on their own petard – in this case, a former environmental advisor to President Blair, who now commutes 500 miles weekly by plane, going from Gloucestershire to Edinburgh.

To coin a phrase from the Government’s rulebook

Do as I say, not as I do


Comedy Moment

Lunchtime yesterday, I saw one of the more amusing things of recent times.

Two cyclists, riding abreast so they could talk to each other, and not paying any attention to what was going on.

The innermost of the two, facing his mate to talk to him, rode slam into the back of a parked car. The car was parked perfectly legitimately, with no problem. It’s just that the cyclist didn’t see it.

He was fine. His bike, on the other hand, looked rather bent.

Sympathy was not forthcoming, from anyone who saw it.


Handwritten

In my opinion, some people just deserve to be ripped off.

Picture the scene – two cashpoint machines (ATMs to the Americans) side by side, in the wall of a bank. On one, a handwritten notice saying “This machine is out of order. Please use the other one.“. And the other machine has a queue of about six people using it, complaining that this one’s a bit dodgy too.

Me? Maybe I’m paranoid. But there’s no fucking way on earth, even if it were the only cashpoint in town, that I would use that machine. And it’s for the following reasons.

  1. It’s outside a bank, thus making people feel psychologically more secure. (“Oh, no-one would mess with this machine, it’s right outside the bank”)
  2. The notice is hand-written, you pillocks. Surely the bank would have either
    1. some pre-prepared properly printed notices
      or
    2. just turned the damn thing off, and let it display the ‘out of order’ notice
  3. The second machine is obviously slow, as there’s a queue
  4. People are audibly complaining that the second machine isn’t giving out money either

To me that’s a whole list of reasons that would generally add up to “this machine has been tampered with, and is currently recording your card details, and repeated attempts to type in your PIN” and as a result I just wouldn’t use it.

And let’s bear in mind, I’m talking about Cambridge. It’s not like there aren’t (quick mental tally) at least six other cash points within three minutes walk.

Like I said, some people just deserve to lose their money.


Smarties

Many moons ago, I wrote about Nestlé ‘rebranding’ Smarties, changing the classic tube and plastic flip-off cap. Yesterday, for the first time in ages, I had a real craving for Smarties (no idea why, I just go with these things sometimes) And yes, the rebranding’s been done.

And somehow it’s just not the same. The cardboard tab just doesn’t have the same poppability (if there is such a word) as that old plastic cap. Even the colours have changed, and while I don’t have an objection to removing artificial colours- in fact I think it’s a good thing – I would perhaps rethink the brown ones, which now look (to be blunt) exactly like shit.

But when you get inside, well, Smarties® are still Smarties®. So it could be worse.


Green Olympiad

So the 2012 Olympics are going to be the greenest ever, are they? I don’t think so.

You see, when people start talking about “ever”, they’re wrong. After all, the original Olympic games were held in a stadium that wasn’t purpose built for them, thus not using shitloads of non-green cement, steel, concrete, and the like. The athletes didn’t travel in planes, buses, coaches and cars – they either came on foot, or on horseback.

The original games didn’t have a new set of stadia built every four years in some place or other, along with all the radical changes to infrastructure and environment. And they didn’t have millions of people watching worldwide on TV, thus also contributing to CO2 emissions etc. etc.

So, the greenest ever? I don’t think so, not at all.


Paperwork

So, tonight we’re going to be meeting back up with the IFA, so we can get the finalised mortgage application under way. And we’re going to be taking one hell of a lot of paperwork with us. This includes :

  • Proof of ID (Passport)
  • Proof of Address (Driving Licence – both parts)
  • Property Address
  • Solicitor’s Details/Address
  • Estate Agents Details/Address
  • 3 months of payslips, plus last P60
  • Bank Details (for both of us)

We’ve already got the Agreement in Principle (AIP), so it shouldn’t be too much hassle to get the main thing. However, I’m still not convinced – after all, there’s a lot of paperwork to go through, and I still think they’re going to shit all over us for me being a contractor, regardless of everything they’ve said leading up to this point.

In addition, we’ve sorted out to meet an architect at the new place a week on Friday, so we can discuss the plans we’ve got, and see what’s going on. That should be quite interesting – I’ve spoken to three or four now, and the one we’ve gone with (initially) appears to be quite cool, and not too up himself. Which, in my opinion, is always a good starting place.

But basically there’s going to be one hell of a lot of paperwork and bureaucracy over the next couple of weeks, and I’m not looking forward to any of it.

Still, at least I’ve got Inland Revenue out of my hair.


Oops – Update

Following on from yesterdays “Oops” post, I got a call from the estate agents today.

Things are not looking good – the house has been taken off the market.


Warning Signs 2

On the way in to work this morning, I noticed another great sign at Ely station…

Warning : This heater gets hot.

Definitely one to file under “No Shit, Sherlock”


Warning Signs

I normally find some amusement from the warning signs and notices that currently seem to be appearing everywhere.

Yesterday, I was looking in the local M&S, and had a look at one of their prawn mayonnaise sandwiches. Impressively, it had the warning

May contain shellfish

What gets me, though, is the “May”. It’s a bloody prawn sandwich – if it doesn’t contain shellfish, I want to know why! After all, at that point really it’s just a mayonnaise sandwich.


Houses and Bureaucrats

Over the last few days, we’ve seen a whole bundle of houses. There’s still two more tonight, one on Friday, and about another eight over the weekend. By the end of that, though, I’m kind of hoping we’ve found a couple that we really like.

Actually, that’s not fair – we’ve already found one that we both really like: it’s just that it’s got a lot of questions around it. And that’s the problem – finding the answers to those questions is going to involve the local church diocese and the local council’s planning department.

In short, fucking bureaucrats.

I’ve already been waiting two days for the tosspots in the diocese to come back to me – if they haven’t contacted me by lunchtime today I’m going to chase them up again. As for the council (coincidentally, the council I nearly ended up working for) I’ve spoken to their ‘Customer Contact Centre’, who told me that I can’t speak to the planning department on the phone, everything has to be in writing.

Which, as an indicator of the future, isn’t all that promising. Still, I’ve emailed them now, and we’ll see just how long it takes the tossers to come back with any form of answer. Although I suspect that the answer will take the form of

Don’t know, don’t care. Next question


Scammed

I had to chuckle at the story on the BBC yesterday about Oldham’s residents having fallen for a large number of scams in 2006.

Having worked there for two years, I really can’t say that I find this surprising. A lot of the people in Oldham are at the lower end of the economic scale, poverty scale, whatever you want to call it, and will jump at any chance to get something for nothing.


Brain-Dead

Things may be a bit quiet here today – my brain is definitely refusing to start up, having done a butt-load of work over the last week which involved moving and re-organising nearly 20,000 PDF files.

In addition, I’ve now got to read a document containing epic levels of project-management bullshit, and form an educated opinion on whether the company involved

  1. can locate and identify both arse and elbow, without getting the two confused
  2. can do what they say they can
  3. have any real technical understanding of what my place is trying to do (having had the relevant documents for nearly a year)
    and
  4. are capable of finding their own arses with both hands and (if necessary) a flashlight.

On the evidence of the last three months, I’d have to say that the answers, in order, are “No”, “Maybe”, “Probably Not” and “I doubt it”.

Now I just need to find proper ways of expressing these concepts, having read the piece of shit they’ve thrown our way.

Joy.


Literate

Sometimes, my job causes both depression and amusement at the same time. Today has had one of those moments.

I’ve just been dealing with a set of webpages dealing with teaching Adult Literacy.

The folder they were in was titled “Adult Litracy”

*sigh*


VAT

I figure that the moral of this story from the BBC is :

If you’re going to do it, do it properly

£54million. Now that’s what I call fraud…


Insolvency

Bah, HumbugAccording to the BBC (and accountants Grant Thornton), overspending during the Festering Season could mean that up to 10,000 people will declare themselves insolvent/bankrupt over the next three months, as well as 20,000 other people who will declare, but for longer-term reasons than just Festerous overspending.

Now, discounting the fact that it’s a report funded by accountants, and thus dedicated to drumming up their own business, I really don’t get the entire overspending thing, regardless of whether it’s related to Festering Season or not. Over the last few years, financial institutions seem to have been promoting the entire ‘debt is good’ culture, and in the twelve months to the end of November 2006, the UK’s personal debt (including mortgages) had risen 9.5% to £1,278 billion.

While I acknowledge that I’m utterly crap with money (Well, I was ’til last year, when I got a lot of stuff sorted out) I don’t see the point in buying things simply for the act of buying, or just to amass posessions. If you can’t afford something (or can’t afford the repayments, if you’re going to get something on credit) then simply don’t get it. Or save for it. But no, the ‘instant gratification’ thing seems to bite people instead, and they work on a ‘get it now, and deal with the bills eventually’ mentality.

Over the last year, yes, I’ve bought some things on credit (new laptop, new computer, and all my work-related expenses, for example) but I’ve always known I’ll be able to repay them ASAP, without a problem. And that’s what I’ve done.

Personally, I find it hard to feel any sympathy for people who’ve got themselves into this situation, as it’s primarily a self-inflicted thing. “But it’s the fault of the banks, advertising loans and cards”, some of them cry. But you don’t have to apply for them all, do you? There’s a thought process involved here – or at least there should be – where if you know you can’t afford it, you don’t fucking do it.

That said, though, I do also find the practices of the banking community to be pretty objectionable too. Every lunchtime in the last month, I’ve walked past the local Lloyds bank, which in every window has had a promotional poster saying (I’m paraphrasing slightly, but not enough to worry about) “Don’t get hit by the Christmas spending snowball. Take out a loan with us”. And I suspect it’s people who’ve taken ‘advantage’ of offers like that who are the ones who’ll suddenly find themselves in the shit over the next three months.

Me? I just find it scary when I realise that I’ve possibly got a far healthier attitude to money than I ever thought I had…


Dancing On

As someone called Chris pointed out, it really is quite surprising in some ways that I haven’t yet mentioned about B&Q’s Norwich store, and their bizarre interview techniques. (Except of course, I now have – and was planning to anyway)

Mind you, I think it’s actually pretty apt that they’d ask prospective employees to dance and pull funny faces. After all, B&Q have always appeared to have a preference for employing clowns…


CBB (Complete Bag o’ Bollocks)

So, New Year, new Celebrity Big Brother. Oh goody.

Worryingly, I know (or can at least connect a name and face) about half of them this year – OK, I only knew one when DG provided their alias as well, but still, knowing 50% of the so-called celebrities is pretty scary.

The Guardian had a wonderful piece about the entrants, which made me chuckle too.

But in general, well, it’s a pretty good reason to avoid the majority of Channel 4‘s output for the next month or so.


Over and Done With

Bah, HumbugHow can you tell that the Festering Season is finally over and done with?

Because now all the adverts on TV are for either :

  1. sales
  2. diets
  3. stopping smoking
    or
  4. holidays

Now we’ve got rid of the materialistic crap of new posessions etc., we’re on to the ‘resolutions’ and ‘future plans’ bits of the marketing maven’s bible.


Instructions for Use

The company that I work for has several buildings in Cambridge, all of which have glass ‘security’ doors, where you have to swipe your identity card through, then the doors open and let you in. In short, they really aren’t rocket science.

Today, we’ve had an email through from the company’s Health and Safety directorate, explaining that some 20% of the reported workplace accidents/injuries in 2006 were due to these doors. So we now have – posted on the intranet, no less – instructions on how to use the security doors. I’m not kidding…

  • Upon approach stand back behind the barrier so that the ‘person’ sensor within the barrier wall is not obstructed.
  • Present your security badge, which should “beep” in recognition.
  • Proceed through the gate.
    (You’ll note that there’s no proviso about ‘when the gate has opened, proceed through the gate’)
  • This is a precise operation and many accidents occur due to
    • Confusion on the part of the ‘person’ sensor, if you stand too far forward when presenting your badge it assumes that there are possibly two people in the channel and thus shuts prematurely
    • A lack of concentration especially when there is a queue at peak times, or when talking to colleagues.

I really really worry about some of the people I work with…


Price Rise

Ah, the joys of a New Year, the time when a train operating company’s thoughts turn to a) profit, and b) gouging customers. And thus, yesterday’s objectionable New Year price increases – always above inflation, usually for no good reason, and most certainly not indicative of any improvements in the service.

However, you can tell that I’m now out in the sticks.

My month’s season ticket for travel between Norwich and Cambridge has gone up from £240 to £250. For once, that’s “only” a 5% increase.

Last year, when I was in Berkshire, it went up by 8%, so a “mere” 5% increase isn’t too bad at all, although obviously it’d be better to not have a price rise at all…


Back to Normality?

So, back to work, and all that goes with it.

Train journey in went OK, but then I had to renew my season ticket for another month. Simple, you’d have thought – but you’d be wrong. The drongo in the ticket office printed the season ticket on the wrong ticket paper, which means that it looks like it’s invalid. So that’ll be fun for the next month then. I questioned it at ‘customer services’, who agreed it looked wrong, and said to take it back to the ticket office. Doing so, a different drongo completely failed to print out a replacement for it (I’ve no idea why, other than general incompetence), then wrote the photocard identifier on the (dodgy looking) ticket, and assures me “that’s all it needs”. Suffice to say, I’m not convinced.

Getting in to work, my pass has expired (as I was initially due to only be here ’til 25th Dec) and no-one’s bothered to extend the authorisation. Hopefully that’ll be sorted today, so that tomorrow can get back to some semblance of normality.

Other than that, because other people have used the laptop that is my main work computer, I’ve now spent most of the morning reconfiguring it to how I want it. The tossers didn’t even charge it up, they left it with a completely dead battery – and in hibernation.

All in all, not a great start to the working year…


Darwin

One thing that’s a joy to read is always the Darwin Awards.

Dedicated to the stupidity of people, it invariably makes you either laugh, or despair.

The 2006 finalists are just as good as usual…


Paid Off

Having paid the smug twunts at Inland Revenue their 88p, I’ve just checked my online banking, and can confirm that the payment has now gone out of my account.

This was the main reason I paid using my debit card – (well, apart from just so that it cost them more money – what can I say, I can be incredibly petty myself) so that there’s no way they can say “Oh no, we haven’t received that and/or paid it in”, which I’m certain is what would have happened if I’d sent in payment by cheque.

In fact, from the evidence of previous submissions to the incompetent keffers, even if I’d sent it recorded, and been able to present them with proof of receipt, they’d still have lost it. And then it would still be my fault that payment had been delayed, and would thus be liable to that £100 penalty fine for not paying by 31st Jan 2007.

At least this way payment has been processed by the scumbags themselves (can’t you see how much I love them really?) and there’s no way they can make out they haven’t received it.

So in theory (I’m still expecting some shit to hit the fan at some point) the last three years’ farce with the Inept Revenants is now drawn to a close, and we’re all sorted.


Negligible

Back at the end of October, I got a letter about how much money I owed Inland Revenue for the tax year 2005-06, which was sent to me first class (and cost about 58p to send) along with a postage-paid response envelope.

Just before Christmas, I got a “statement of account” from Inland Revenue, again sent first class, again with a postage-paid reply envelope.

The amount that all this paperwork and postage is for?

88p

I’ve paid it today, by debit card. (Which should cost them even more) All told, I reckon it’s cost them about £2.00 to process £0.88. Which is impressive in anyone’s book.


Not Informed

Currently, I’m a little bit annoyed.

While I was returning the car to Avis the other day, I saw a little leaflet on their desk, talking about making a booking and getting Tesco Clubcard points for how much you spend with Avis. Having booked three lots of cars with them now, and having just spent £300+ on this one (although it’s on expenses, so it’s OK on that score) I was a bit narked to have lost those 300 points, plus t’others.

Now, I know that Clubcard and the like are cynical marketing ploys that allow the card owners (by which I mean ‘people who issued the cards’ as opposed to ‘people who carry the cards with them’) to track people, and target offers to those people with ever more efficiency and effectiveness (I wanted to type effectivity there, but I know it’s a made-up word) but at the same time, I don’t object hugely to them – and I allow my data to be used in that way.

(I used to do a clubcard swapping programme, so that their marketing data went to shit, but haven’t done that in a while – maybe I should restart. It always used to confuse them when a 30 year old man started buying tampons or whatever…)

Anyway, it annoyed me. Not because I’d missed out per se but because actually, it’d never been mentioned when I booked the cars – nothing on the site at all. You really had to search to find this page about it – and fortunately you can reclaim those points afterwards if you want to, by way of that same page but still, it’s just not a great promotion if no bugger knows about it…


Frost and Fog

Last night, I did the drive back from Poole to Attleborough. I left at 5, which was already a bad move – it took an hour just to get to the M27. Absolute nightmare.

Anyway, I got home at 9.30 in the end – so once things got going, I actually made exceptionally good time – the Laguna was an absolute joy to drive, and had some decent speed, which made the journey a lot easier as well.

What was surprising, though, even to a cynic such as myself, was how many drivers seemed to forget that

  1. they had fog lights on
  2. they had full-beam headlights on
    and on a couple of memorable occasions
  3. that they really should put their lights on once they’d left a services area.

Considering that the weather was foul – although I definitely now have no problems driving in fog – it was amazing to me just how many fucking idiots there are on the roads. I know it shouldn’t, but it did/does.

This morning it was the same thing – the entire drive was pretty much blanketed in fog, and in some areas ice/frost as well – and yet there were people (mainly in white cars/vans, which didn’t help) who didn’t even have lights on, so their vehicles just disappeared into the fog. Very scary.

All went well though, and that’s another set of ticks in the “Done That” list – but jesus, people scare me.


That Festive Feeling – The Bad

Bah, HumbugSo yes, the bits I hate about the Festering Season.

I hate the hypocrisy, the materialism of the entire season. I hate the obligations – or rather, the perceived and implied obligations- that befoul people when it comes to Christmas. I know I’m a cynic, and in many ways I’m also a hypocrite, because I do get things for the people who I want to buy for. What I don’t believe in is buying stuff for everyone I know, plus work-colleagues, plus others.

Over the years, I’ve seen probably way too much of the bad side of the Festering Season, and I can’t deny that it’s had a lingering effect on me. I spent eight years running pubs and hotels, and every Festering Season I’d see too many people who were either in fairly serious trouble because of their Christmas spending, or who were depressed because they didn’t have the people around them they wanted, or they hadn’t received the number of cards and/or presents that the media and marketers made out the should have. I saw too many of the negative sides, and not enough of the positives. And for New Year, too many hypocrites who would be professing Auld Lang Syne, and peace and goodwill to all people at midnight, followed ten minutes later by beating the shit out of each other.

Once I’d left that side of things, I spent the next few years working over Christmas in a variety of places – Samaritans, Soup Kitchens etc. Again, I saw the negative side of the Festering Season, with not a great deal of the positive. But at the same time, well, I believe that it’s not a bad way to handle Christmas, to be honest – while I’m not religious at all, and don’t celebrate that aspect of it, I do believe that actually it’s no bad thing to spend the time helping out those far worse off than oneself – and that in many ways, it’s possibly a more “Christian” way of working than most.

I haven’t done that for about four or five years now, but I do still find that my thoughts at this time of year still turn to the people who’re depressed by the season, and by the differences between how it’s portrayed to people, and how it is. I don’t know if that makes sense – it’s the difference between the way dramas on TV (whether soaps, American dramas, period pieces etc., or anything else) show it as being this time of plenty, of presents, family, money, food, and happiness while some people’s personal experiences show it as a time of penury, loneliness, solitude, hunger, and depression.

Personally, I’ve had a couple of close friends die around the Festering Season, which never helps much either. I don’t harp on about it – but it’s there, it’s n my mind on occasion during this time of year, and I can’t deny it.

So, yeah, all told, I’m really not a fan of the Festering Season…


Collecting Stuff

Bah, HumbugAbout a month ago, I ordered something for Herself’s Christmas. Because I didn’t know how long it’d take to appear or where we’d be living at the time, and because the company offered it, I used Royal Mail’s Local Collect® service, which means that the package gets delivered to a local post office of your choice, from where you can collect it. Bloody brilliant – makes life a lot easier than wondering where something’s going to arrive, or when – I can just pick it up on the way to/from work.

Which is what I did this morning. Only, well, it looks like perhaps the actual Post Office people didn’t know what the service was. Or even the meaning of the word “service”.

They tried telling me that I’d used the service incorrectly, and that they’d have been perfectly within their rights to send the parcel back.

At lunchtime, I’ll be dropping in a printout of this page which may help explain it to them.


Ad Break

Bah, Humbug

  • Currys Electrical
  • Perfume
  • Someone’s Greatest Hits Album
  • Tesco Mobile
  • Ferrero Rocher
  • Another Perfume
  • A ‘best of ’06’ album
  • Another perfume

I guess Christmas must be just round the corner…


Chilly

Look, dear, if you’re really cold enough to be wearing a big long fluffy scarf, and Ugg® boots, don’t you think it might help to not be wearing a top that’s leaving your belly and both shoulders bare, and no jacket?

After all, how shall I put this delicately, it does make you look like a bit of a fuckwit.


First Class?

Can someone tell me, just what is the point of buying a first class ticket when you’re on a regional train?

I can understand it (up to a point) on the big long cross-country jobs – I used to take advantage of club class, first voyager, or whatever the feck they called it when I was travelling reguarly between Manchester and Reading, because most of the time it was the only way to guarantee getting a seat. Even better, it was normally a seat that wasn’t dead opposite a squealing child, or some mad git trying to talk to everyone. And you make sure you take advantage of the free snacky things and so on that come as part of the “benefits” of ‘first class’ when you have to pay that much extra, so it kind of works out. (well, it doesn’t, but if you get enough freebies off them, you can almost convince yourself it’s worth paying double the price – and having a seat for four+ hours is a definite advantage over standing for the entire journey.)

But when it comes to the small regional trains, the only difference between first and standard class is that you’re in a different spot on the train. There’s absolutely no extra benefit. Well, maybe again you get a seat – but on all the services I’ve used of late (whether it’s London – Bracknell, Cambridge-London, or Cambridge-Attleborough) have all had free “normal” seats.

So what is the point of the first class bit on these little local services? Other than, of course, to fleece egotistical twats who think it makes them special, and to fill the coffers of yet another train company? </cynicism>


Typo

I love this advert, in Guardian Jobs…

Brassiere / Brasserie

Absolutely brilliant.

UPDATED : Ah, the rotten sods have pulled the advert. No fun at all.


Avoiding Scams

The Motley Fool has an interesting piece today about avoiding various scams etc.

Personally, I still find it amazing that people fall for scams like these. I love the way people are so stupid that they’ll send money out as a ‘transfer fee’ to get their winnings from a lottery they’ve never entered in a country they’ve never even visited. So far as I’m concerned, that’s just like an idiot tax – you’re an idiot, you deserve to lose the money.

In a semi-related note (and I know I’ve whittled on about this one before) I also find it amazing that spam comments or emails get any results at all. I mean, what’s the point of the ones I get every day, that say things like (and this is a copy of one of the texts)

Thank you for your loan request, which we recieved yesterday, your refinance application has been accepted

Bad credit OK, We are ready to give you a $339,000 loan, after further review, our lenders have established the lowest monthly payments.

Approval process will take only 1 minute.

Please visit the confirmation link below and fill-out our short 30 second Secure Web-Form.

Does anyone respond to the damn’ things? And lets face it, if they do, they deserve everything they get…


On go the lights

Bah, HumbugIt seems that our now town of residence has some interesting idiosyncracies.

Not least among these is the fact that everyone seems to have done their outdoor christmas lights today, and there appears to have been some kind of town-wide ceremonial switch-on.

All of a sudden this evening, the things seem to have gone on all over the place. It’s very strange. On the plus side, there’s one or two installations that aren’t completely chavtastic. Although that does leave the huge majority still being fit for that title….


Sorted

Amazingly, both BT and Sky did what they’d promised.

By the time the Sky man arrived (at about 10am) the phone line was active – broadband didn’t come online ’til about 5pm, but BT had said that it could be anytime ’til 8pm. So that’s OK.

But surely this is a sign of the impending apocalypse?


Premature

Yes, I knew I was cursing it by banging on about it being the last time I had to do that fucking train journey.

Life, you utter, utter bastard.

I got up at the usual time, did all the normal domestic gubbins – preparing breakfast, letting Hound out into the back garden, blah blah – then checked the local news for travel. Uh-oh. “Severe problems on the Reading – Waterloo route, due to over-running engineering works”. Arses. Check the train times on the XDA (I love useful little services like the train times via Kizoom) and yep, my normal train isn’t just delayed, it’s fucking cancelled.

As are lots of others from earlier in the morning. So I could get the (still delayed) 8:02, but that’ll be rigid with epically pissed-off people, and I just can’t be bothered. So I leave the house at 8:10, get the 8:30 train instead, which was (initially) a bloody good plan. You see, the 8:02 had actually been delayed by twenty minutes, so it was absolutely stuffed with people. Thankfully, not one of them had the brains to say “Hang on, there’s another one in ten minutes, and that’ll be just about empty, as everyone and his Uncle’s on this one” So the 8:30 was pretty quiet for the most part.

However. The engineering works were still over-running, so we ended up fucking about, getting to Twickenham, then re-rerouting through Kingston (wherever the shit that is) and Wimbledon in order to get to Clapham Junction – and because everything was going that route, we travelled at a snail’s pace.

Eventually, at 10:30 we got to Clapham Junction. At which point the service was cancelled, because someone had collapsed on the train, and needed medical attention. Now, I’m not a ghoul, and it was obviously pretty severe – put it this way, it’s the first time I’ve ever heard the guard put a call out for “any medical personnel on the train”. I just can’t believe the number of self-centred smug fuckers who just tutted and sighed at this news, like whoever had collapsed had done it just to spite them, you know, because the train was already late, so why not collapse, and put their day right in the shitter? Cunts.

Anyway, eventually got to Kings Cross, and a quiet train direct to Cambridge. Four and a quarter hours for a journey that normally takes two and a half at worst.


Feck

I forgot to say, what with the server move and so on taking precedence in my brain, but I didn’t get the permanent job with the place I’m currently working.

I wish I could say I was depressed by that, or that it seemed weird to be deemed as fine for bailing them out of the shit, and providing technical/techie consultancy stuff, but that I’m not deemed as suitable for the permanent position. But, if I’m being utterly honest, I really can’t say that at all.

I know I could do the job standing on my head, but equally that means it doesn’t provide me with any real challenge. And as such, I’d be bored of it within the year, and be back at square one. Yes, it’d make life a lot easier when it comes to shit like mortgage applications and the like, but well, we’ll live.

As it is, I’m starting to sound out various agencies etc., and I’m getting some interesting stuff in return. So we’ll just have to see what comes up – but at least I’ve got some time to get everything sorted, which is always a bonus too.


Diet Coke

Why is it that the following phrase has so many problems being understood?

A Diet Coke, please, with no ice or lemon

Over the last two months, I’ve been eating in restaurants four nights out of seven. Some places have become regular haunts, some have been one-offs, some are just irregular “when I feel like it”s. But the commonality with all of them is that it’s incredibly rare to get what I ask for.

  • Drink with ice, but no lemon. Common
  • Drink with no ice, but lemon. Equally common
  • Drink with both. Worryingly common
  • Drink with neither – i.e. what I ordered. Depressingly rare

I just don’t get what the issue is with that order…


Drinking Habits

One year ago today, the UK licensing laws changed to allow 24-hour drinking, which in theory was going to mean that there wasn’t the crush of people at 11pm when the pubs closed, and that it wouldn’t mean loads of drunk people were all chucked out at the same time to wait for taxis etc., which was when fights broke out.

So, one year on, has it worked? According to the BBC, No

There was also a load of old bollocks being spouted at the time that 24-hour opening would mean people went out and drank more, or more regularly, and so it was The End Of The World (© Daily Mail, Daily Express, et al.).

One year on, has that happened? According to the same story, No.

What a shocker.

Of course, it’s not the time that’s the issue when it comes to drinking (and to many other things) – it’s the fact that in most cases, the amount of disposable income that can be used for socialising, drinking, whatever is a) finite and b) hasn’t changed. So while people have more hours in which they can drink, they still have the same amount to spend on drink, and so the change hasn’t happened.

Quelle surprise.


Sky Redux

Following on from the farce a couple of days ago with dealing with the idiots at Sky’s “Customer Services” I called them again.

Six calls to India later, having dealt with idiots who couldn’t take down phone numbers correctly, in fact couldn’t do anything correctly, and were incapable of passing a phone-call to anyone else in the department – cutting me off each time, which meant I then had to call back – I ended up speaking to someone in the UK call centre instead.

And lo, the Moving Home form hadn’t been received, so I had to go through it all again. What a shocker. Even better, I’ve paid £40 for an installation fee, then been told they can’t find a free slot, so they’ll call me back.

That, of course, was 24 hours ago, and nothing’s happened.

Sky really are a useless bunch of cunts. It almost makes me want to go back to NTL. Not quite, though.


Paranoid

It’s strange, but I’m still really really unconvinced that the server move went that smoothly.

My paranoid little brain keeps saying “It can’t have been that easy. Something’s going to go wrong”.

As such, I’m taking regular backups of the database at the moment, just so that if something does go wrong, I’ve got a backup and don’t lose anything. (Except maybe some time) I wish I weren’t this cynical and paranoid, but well, technical stuff just isn’t that smooth and problem free.

I think I’ll probably be happier about it once I’ve arrived at the B&B tonight, and been able to spend some time furkling in the database on the new server, so I know that these posts are entered on the new database, not the old one. Then I might be more reassured…


Schadenfreude

I can’t deny it, there is something very satisfying about being a witness on some occasions. This morning’s walk to work proved to be one of those occasions.

At one of the sets of traffic lights, I got to see one cyclist ignore a red-light, go belting into the junction, only to collide with another cyclist who was also ignoring the red-light on their section of junction. Neither cyclist had checked to see if there was any other road-users, and both had just assumed that they had right of way.

Neither was hurt in the clash, but I think it brightened up the day of several drivers and pedestrians…


Christmas Stamps

Bah, HumbugToday, Royal Mail has released the images of their Christmas Stamps for 2006.

What I want to know is why they’ve gone with an image of Father Christmas taking a shit down a chimney as the First Class stamp ?

Santa shitting down a chimney

Starting Off Badly

Having signed up about ten days ago for that Open University course, I was expecting to get a bundle of paperwork, course information etc. last week. But it didn’t arrive. Hmm, that sounds familiar from last time I signed up with them.

Anyway, having given it a clear two weeks ’til today to allow them time to be inefficient, I gave them a call today. Turns out, despite having paid, and the money having left my account, they’d still got my account listed as “on hold” , rather than “registered”.

I’ve sorted it now, and the paperwork should be on its way. But really, it’s not an auspicious start to the course, is it?


Heavy Debt Levels

I was watching a thing on Channel 4 the other night about people in debt, and I must admit that I really don’t understand how (as in the case of this one programme) someone can end up with debts of £65,000 over the span of six years. I just don’t get that mindset of “I want [xxx], but I can’t afford it, so I’ll just get it on credit”.

Personally, I also fail to understand how someone can run up debts like that, and even keep it secret from their partner. I just couldn’t handle that much stress or deceit, to be honest.


Chaotic

In some ways you just have to love my ex-employer, if only for their crapness.

It’s now a solid month since I left – and I have to say that so far, even with the joys of travelling etc., it’s been a bloody good month. But this morning, just for the hell of it, I tried to log in to the servers at my ex-employer.

You see, I had this nagging feeling that – despite all the company’s protestations that they knew what they were doing, and were a professional organisation – my account, username, password etc. would still be active. They’d promised to delete my account – and let’s be honest, it’s a pretty standard procedure, that if someone leaves a company, their username/password is changed or deleted so they can’t get on to the system and do anything nasty. The same thing applies to giving back your office keys, security pass, or whatever.

But with my ex-employers, nope, I can *still* log in to all the systems, into my work email, and on to all the servers, websites, and databases.

It really is fortunate that I’m not the kind of malevolent nasty person who would delete things, or change data, isn’t it?


Tossers

Regular readers may recall that a good few months ago, I had an interview with a certain mobile telecoms company. At the time it went really well, and would’ve been great to change jobs and do a year with them – working within a huge corporation is something my CV currently lacks, as the last one I worked for was back in 2002 or so.

Anyway, following the interview, the feedback was really positive, and they said to the agency I’d applied through that they wanted to offer me a job. And then it all went quiet. Calls weren’t returned, nothing got confirmed, and indeed the telecoms company failed to communicate with either myself or the agency at all. So I ended up looking around again, and at the same time the decision was made for us to move towards Norfolk.

I got a call today from that agency, asking if I was still available for work. The telecoms company had come back to the agency, wanting me to work for them. And was I available to start next week?

Quite honestly, in the face of an attitude like that, even if I were available, I wouldn’t want to work for a company that was so blatantly disinterested in people, and so contemptuous of anything except themselves. Just unbelievable.


Travelodge and Watchdog

One thing that interested me last night was to catch BBC’s Watchdog programme, which featured Travelodge being shitepots. Nothing new there – but I didn’t know about this particular policy of Travelodge’s.

Turns out that despite offering a “guaranteed” room when you book with them, they have a policy of overbooking, so you could easily find yourself still without a room. They call this a “last man standing” policy – although it might as well be called a “last man sleeps in his car” policy. Of course, they can then say they’ve got a room at another Travelodge, but if you head off there (assuming that you can, have a car, and all that jazz) and someone else gets there before you, you can still not have a room.

And even better, because you can’t get a room at the original place, you don’t check in. Which means that the devious scumbags then get to charge you a full room rate for not turning up!

Now that is briliant. In a sleazy scumbag way, of course, but it’s still brilliant.


Recorded Delivery

Ten days ago, I sent a letter to the scumbag bandits at Holmes Place via Royal Mail‘s “Signed For” service. (“Signed For” being the dumbed-down name for “Recorded Delivery”) Basically, I wanted to know that Holmes Place had received the letter and cheque – not an unreasonable concept, really – and I wanted to be able to check online when it’d been received. And Royal Mail emphasise that you can use their “Track and Trace” online system to check that an item has been delivered.

Only, well, you can’t. It’s been ten days now, and still all I see when I key in the Track and Trace number is

Come back later
Recorded Signed For™ items are only tracked after the item has been delivered. Depending on whether the item was sent first or second class, this may be a few days after posting. Please try again later.

Information on your item is not yet available online.

So frankly, what fucking use is that as a service?


‘Tis the Season

Bah, HumbugThis week I’ve been watching some TV via that USB adaptor (which works fantastically now it’s linked to a proper aerial, instead of the piece o’ crap micro-aerial that it came with) and I’ve noticed something. The adverts.

It seems like a good 80% of the adverts are for either perfumes, toys, or ‘greatest hits’ compilation CDs. (The other 20% is for either Cillit Bang or some kind of crappy room-fragrance candles)

Anyone would think it’s coming up to Christmas…


Crustless

I can’t find a link to it, but I have to admit, I think that the idea of Kingsmill bakeries selling a loaf without crusts is utterly bizarre. Genius in a way – knowing the way that some children refuse to eat bread crusts, for some godforsaken and unknown reason – but still bizarre.

And I wonder what happens to those crusts? After all, the bread must (I assume) still be baked and get a crust, which must (again , I assume) then be trimmed off before the loaf is packaged up. So what happens to it?

Are there just a whole parade of very fat ducks waddling along outside the Kingsmill bakeries, stuffed full of fresh bread crusts?


Parties

Bah, HumbugThe malaise is spreading. The festering season™ approacheth. Yay verily, it does.

Over the last three weeks, I’ve noticed more and more places advertising for people to book their Christmas parties. Fair enough, I suppose, it’s October, the time is nigh.

Although I must admit, I do have a teensy comprehension problem when the local ethnic Thai restaurant is advertising for Christmas parties. But maybe I shouldn’t think about these things too much…


Gullible

I’m intrigued – how many people actually open up those spam emails that have subject lines like “Necessary Notice of Default from Bank” ?

Is anyone really that stupid?

I mean, as Scaryduck pointed out earlier this week, there’s plenty of people who still fall for the entire “you’ve won a lottery you’ve never entered” scam, so I suppose there’s plenty of numpty twats out there who do open up those spam emails.

But really, its worrying to think that people still haven’t got the idea about these things, isn’t it?


Debt-Ridden

I don’t quite know why, but the BBC website’s diary pieces by this woman trying to sort out her debt situation have managed to annoy me quite seriously.

My husband Thomas owns a French restaurant in Holborn, London.
To buy the restaurant, my husband and I had to re-mortgage the family home and my two small buy-to-let properties.

OK, fair enough, in some ways her situation is pretty crappy – dropped from her contract job because of being pregnant, for example – but I find it very hard to find much sympathy for someone who has bought her London home (and remortgaged it), has two other buy-to-let properties on mortgages, and has invested in her husband’s restaurant business. So that’s three mortgages, plus her husband’s one on the business premises, and various other debts, loans, etc. Again, fair enough, she’s not spending money all over the place, but still, three properties? (Four if you count the restaurant)

I dunno, the entire diary just strikes me as being more than a bit whingy, with an overtone of “It’s not fair!” running through it.

I do think that the way banks and lenders deal with people who are in debt – particularly the ones who are at least trying to deal with it, and keep them informed – is utterly scummy, but the phrase “Banks are fiscal-vampire scumsucking leeches” is never going to be headline material. And neither is the fact that their entire systems are gauged at getting as much money out of people as possible, while preferably being deeply inefficient, and going “lalalalala-can’t hear you” at potential problems.

Eventually, I suggest a year-long payment holiday, with interest frozen until I return to full time work after my maternity leave.

But it also strikes me that attitudes like that displayed in the quote above are perhaps unrealistic, naïve, and actually quite self-centred. Yeah, sure, a payment holiday for a year is a lovely idea. But I can’t think of any financial institution that’s going to turn round and say “Of course you can take a break for a year. And of course we won’t charge you interest in that time! Hey, why don’t we bake you a cake at the same time?” They’re businesses – they exist to make money. They’re not charities. OK, it would be nice if they were more understanding of situations and so on, but frankly it’s not going to happen.

I don’t really know what I’m trying to say here, or what I’m trying to get at. It’s just the entire set of ‘diary’ posts annoys me.

I’ll think more about it, and probably most some more thoughts about it some other time.


Travelodge 2

Well, the advised fix for the air-conditioning actually did work – and it’s amazing just how much difference it makes, not having that bloody thing rattling in my ears all evening.

The place is still a money-gouging extortionate sinkhole, though.

But at least it’s not rattling.


Bah Fuckin’ Humbug

bah bloody humbugYou know, it really is very easy to go off some people particularly when they decide to go all bloody festive and remind me (and, of course, the rest of the world – or at least the subsection of it that reads his blog) that there’s “only” three months ’til Christmas.

Personally, I prefer to go with the fact that three months from today, it’ll all be over with for another year. And bloody good riddance too.

Bah, humbug.


Libraries (Again)

So, after Saturday’s arse-about with bureaucracy, and the sending of a snotty email, I still hadn’t had any response. So I thought well, what the hell, give them a call.

Twenty sodding minutes later, I’m a member of the library in Cambridge. But not before going through three different people, two of whom insisted that I couldn’t actually join the library because I don’t live in Cambridge. Irrespective of the webpage about who can join the Cambridgeshire libraries that specifically states

Question:Can anyone join the library?
Answer:You can join the library at any age if you:

  • are a permanent resident of Cambridgeshire
  • work or study in Cambridgeshire
  • are visiting Cambridgeshire

the first two jobsworths insisted that I could only join if I lived in Cambs. But that’s not what the web page says. Well, sir, you still can’t. Fuckwits.

Eventually I got through to someone who had at least two braincells active, who went through the procedure no worries. Maybe she was the rocket-scientist of the three. I don’t know.

But at least now all I have to do next week is provide proof of my ID (breaking out the trusty passport and/or drivers licence again) and job done.


Wanker

I wrote about this fucking idiot before. A man “addicted” to branded clothes, he’s now going to burn all his branded possessions, and then write a book about his experiences of trying to live brand-free.

What an utter, utter cunt.

There are plenty of ways that this tosser could use to get rid of these items instead of burning them. He could give them away to charty shops. He could sell them off to one of the companies that re-sell second-hand clothes, particularly those with designer labels. Hell, he could just go and shove them all in a clothing recycling bin.

But no, this fucker has to make a show of it, so he’s going to burn them. Not content with being a shallow-minded cunt in the first place, he’s now tagged himself as an egotistical self-centred cunt who’s still shallow-minded as well.

Tosser.


e-Commerce

Over the last few days, the iTunes music store has been annoying me. OK, I know I’ve got some fairly obscure tastes on occasion, but even so, when looking for things like “Leonard Cohen” the list is missing some fairly relevant stuff. The last couple of albums, for instance. Let alone some of the older stuff – and finding the album I particularly wanted, which is a collection of cover versions of his stuff, well, that’s just never going to happen.

And I can’t find anything on iTunes for a bundle of other bands – OK, some of them are old now, but isn’t that what “The Long Tail” was always supposed to be about? But no, nothing on there for Timbuk3, The Pale, or a couple of others.

Anyway, back to Leonard Cohen, and in fact it’s easier to go back and find the exact album on Amazon, and add it to the basket.

However, Amazon’s not perfect either. I was also looking for an A-Z map of Cambridge, for obvious reasons. But hang on – a £1.50 sourcing fee? What the hell? And up to 14 days for delivery? Fuck off. In that case it’s far easier to go direct to the company and order it direct. No sourcing fee. No postage. A flat £3.50. And I’ll get it by Monday. Perfect.


Off, Off and Away

So, amazingly it all went OK.

A simple – and non-sweary – explanation of why my position with the company was now untenable, making clear references to a lot of policies that amount to nothing less than constructive dismissal, and referring to legal advice I’d taken over the last week, and bang, I’m done.

I come back into the office on Friday to sort out some final things. I’ve also been asked to do a couple of small things for the company over the next couple of weeks (although they depend on Arsehole Boss not being an Arsehole, so it’s not certain I’ll even have to do them) which is fine – it means I get paid for the entire of September, and then also get a month’s pay in lieu of notice, and a month’s pay as a severance deal.

All told, I come out of the entire thing Golden, and smelling of Roses.

Can’t be bad.


Walking Away

Well, the time has come.

I’ve requested a meeting with the CEO of the company, and the main accounting guy, today, so I can sort out leaving. I haven’t actually said I’m leaving, but I’m sure they’ll figure it out for themselves between now and then.

I don’t yet know what time the meeting will be, but it’s going to be sometime today. And over the weekend, I got to write a resignation letter too. That was fun.

Of course, there have also been to be a couple of “wish I could send this” versions first. But the actual one is still quite fun, as it’s made ample use of phrases like “constructive dismissal”, “untenable position” and “having taken legal advice”.

UPDATED : Arse. Meeting postponed ’til tomorrow. Still, it’ll be fun when it happens. And of course a celebratory D4D™ post will be added when it’s happened.


Pointless

I have to say, I love getting utterly pointless bits of post. Particularly when I’ve paid for them, in one way or another.

I’m not talking about junk mail, because that just gets ignored, shredded, and binned. Simple. I don’t particularly care about that – although we will be opting out of the Royal Mail’s junk mail service (email optout@royalmail.co.uk for more information) in order to reduce the amount of crap we do receive once we’ve moved. But no, the stuff I’m talking about is stuff from organisations and government groups that has absolutely no use in being sent, and just costs money.

Today’s fine example of this came from Inland Revenue. A statement of my account with the money-grabbing incompetent shit-for-brains jobsworth cock-knockers. Having finally sorted out the fucking about they did with me over the last three years (which reminds me, really must fill in that form this week and get it sent off) I’ve got a statement of account again.

Right at the top of it?

You have nothing to pay

Well, that’s just bloody brilliant, isn’t it? I know that already. You’ve told me twice already, and the next set of bullshit demands don’t come due ’til the end of the year (roughly). And what’s the point of sending out repeated statements saying I owe nothing?


Drivers

(Note : In this post, I aim to use Anna’s Swearword of the day – Pisswit)

Yesterday, due to the vagaries of a) trains and b) traffic (having had the interview, I was waiting for Herself to drive down and meet me in Cambridge after her interview in Norwich finished) I had plenty of time to sit around and just people-watch. It’s something I haven’t had a great deal of time for of late (well, except on the commuter trains, of course) so I had a thoroughly fun, and very lazy, day following my interview, and just spent a couple of hours at Cambridge station, watching people, and drivers, and the weirdness that is the Cambridge station forecourt.

It’s really hard to describe the area at the front of the station. One thing’s for certain though – it was designed by a total pisswit who had no idea about human nature. First it can only be approached by one road, which is fairly narrow. This funnels all the traffic for the station : bikes, cars, taxis, buses, and delivery vehicles – all of it down one narrow road. Brilliant.

At the end of the road, there’s a lay-by for the buses, and a turning circle. Actually, it’s almost two turning circles, because while there’s one for traffic that’s still moving, there’s also a wider area up a small kerb, where drivers are supposed to pick-up/drop-off people. Human nature being what it is, though, the driver’s mindset is that you’re supposed to never drive over a kerb. So most drivers don’t use the proper pick-up/drop-off points, and instead stop in the turning circle. (There’s also an offshoot road where there’s a few short-term parking spaces – but to get to that you’ve got to a) go up the kerb still, and b) it’s a pain in the arse, as half the time it’s obscured by open-top tourist buses). Oh yeah, and there’s a stopping spot for the tourist buses, opposite the layby for all the normal buses.

So all it takes is for drivers to not use the proper up-the-kerb stopping point, and the entire thing paralyses. The main buses can’t do the turn, particularly if some shitwit parks up on the apex of the curve, once the turning circle’s finished, but before it’s the proper road. Then you have the open-top buses reversing and nearly hitting cars/cyclists. The cyclists have no regard for any other road user – I’m amazed more don’t die, if yesterday was any example. The taxi-drivers pretty much get it, but they’re still nightmares on the stopping circle, and then you’ve got just general every-day drivers who’ve rarely (if ever) seen the layout before, and get epically confused by it all.

In fact, it’s not difficult to handle. It’s just that the stopping circle should’ve had its own seperate traffic lane, rather than being reached by going up a kerb, which is paradoxical to all of a driver’s normal “learned” experience. And as such, the entire thing was obviously designed by an official pisswit.


Business Planning

One thing I absolutely hate about starting up a business is : the business plan. To me they’re always a masterwork of bullshit, balancing out all the aspects of what might happen. And yet, over the last week or so, that’s what I’ve been doing. Writing a business plan.

It’s not for anything that’s going to happen just yet. This is stuff that’s all still in the offing. But for once I’ve seen some sense, and decided to get it written down. That way, I don’t have to keep it in my head, and it’s got rather more chance of actually happening.

The business name (well, the potential business name, and the concept that’s linked to it) is sorted, and so it’s more about just brain-dumping the stuff onto some paper, and/or onto a Word® document, so I know where it is. That way it’s just some more space that I can free up in my head, and use for useful stuff.

All the same, dear god, the business plan itself is still a load of old shite. Just figuring out the basic costs, profits, and predictions – it’s all shite. You can say “What If” ’til the cows come home, and basically a business plan is just a way to get banks/investors to lend you money, and so they can have some figures to say “well that’s what you said would happen – why hasn’t it?” Of course, the other side is that you can massively underestimate, in which case the banks/investors might just look on you favourably as being bloody great instead of bloody useless.

But for now that’s a worry for the future. Right now I’m just glad to have it somewhere that’s not in my head.


Branded

Is it me, or is this person just incredibly shallow?

From an early age, I have been taught that to be accepted, to be loveable, to be cool, one must have the right stuff. At junior school, I tried to make friends with the popular kids, only to be ridiculed for the lack of stripes on my trainers.

I know that branding means a lot to many many people, but to me it’s one of those things I’m pretty impervious to. Maybe it’s just because I never got into the entire “Nike vs. Adidas vs. Reebok” thing at school, maybe it’s because the branding stuff was really only just coming in at the time I was in school (Waaaay back in the dark ages) or something, I don’t know. Hell, maybe it’s just because I was dragged up by my parents in a way that meant I could identify myself by methods other than bloody labels. God, reading that back it sounds epically snooty and disparaging. But I think it’s meant to. To identify oneself by ones labels and possessions just seems – to me – to be incredibly shallow and dull.

But then, as I’ve speculated before, I think that most people are actually quite tribal, and it’s these labels and so on that now provide us with the tribe names and ideals. People identify themselves by the fact they were Nike, Adidas, Gucci, Prada, Vuitton, whatever. It’s all part of the lifestyle. And the hooky labels, the faux Chanel, Prada, Burberry, whatever – are they for those who aspire to the lifestyle portrayed by that brand? For those who want to wear all Prada, but can’t afford it?

Diffusion labels are another part of the faux branding, too. Can’t afford Armani? Get Emporio Armani, or even the other one I can’t even recall right now. But it’s all part of the same thought process. “Identify with us. We’re cool, and if you wear our stuff, you’ll be cool too!”

Perhaps I’m just a cynic. Perhaps I’m a hypocrite – I do wear branded stuff, although out of preference (although that preference is based on the practicality of “they do stuff that fits a brick shithouse like me”) I tend to wear either stuff by M&S, or Cotton Traders. But like I said, that preference is based on practicality. And let’s face it, the M&S brand is never likely to identify anyone as owt except Sad. Or maybe Practical. There’s certainly no glamour involved…

But in general I find I don’t give a damn about what label is on something. I tend to not buy anything with huge brands on it – after all, why the hell should I pay money to a company in order to advertise their stuff? Chuff that – I’ll avoid as many brands as possible. But you can’t avoid them completely. Even the famous “no label” brand Muji (where ‘Muji’ is literally ‘no brand’ in – Japanese?) has become a brand in itself. In short, everything’s branded in one way or another.

I guess the decision comes in whether we decide to live with those brands, and buy only specific brands, or whether we go out and make a choice based on something other than a logo. Looking around my desk I see Dell, HP, iMate, Coca-Cola, Dymo, but that’s it. Most of my stuff is bought for non-logo reasons. I don’t know what the answer is to the current brand-addiction, other than that there’s plenty of other things out there that can be far more valuable than identifying yourself through a bloody label.


Staples

Here’s a thought :

What would ITV do if Ant & Dec were suddenly involved ins ome tragic accident?

I think ITV would just curl up and die. And maybe that’s no bad thing…


FuckUps

As it’s now three+ weeks since I got the verbal offer of the council job, and I’ve still heard nothing, yesterday I started chasing up what’s been going on. Again.

So far – and bear in mind, they won’t send out an offer letter ’til they’ve done all the paperwork and got the contract in place as well – they haven’t even sent out the reference requests. Because of the problem with salary, and [Future Boss] having a fit of the sensitives and then being off sick, they haven’t done anything ’til [Future Boss] comes back.

So at the current rate there’s no chance of me starting there any time before October.

However, at the same time I’m also getting a lot of feedback about other jobs, and as the council can’t be fucking bothered to do anything, I’m going back to sorting out interviews etc. It makes sense – after all, do I really want to work for a place that’s that disorganised and inefficient?


Initiative

Just how much effort does it take for someone to use up the last of the toilet roll, and think

“Hmm, I’ve used up the last of the bog-roll. And there’s no more in here. I’d best either a) go and buy some more, and get the money back out of petty cash, or b) ask someone else to do it, because I’m hugely busy.”

On current evidence here, it’s obviously one hell of a lot of effort, as no fucker’s bothered at all. Although it is quite amusing to see guys walk in, then walk straight back out again. Yet still they won’t actually do anything about it.

Me? I’ve been out and bought some. I just haven’t bothered putting it in the room yet…


Another cynic

Following on from my own heavy dose of cynicism regarding the entire “airport terror plot” two weekends ago, its good to see that I’m not the only one who feels the same way.

None of the alleged terrorists had made a bomb. None had bought a plane ticket. Many did not even have passports, which given the efficiency of the UK Passport Agency would mean they couldn’t be a plane bomber for quite some time.

In the absence of bombs and airline tickets, and in many cases passports, it could be pretty difficult to convince a jury beyond reasonable doubt that individuals intended to go through with suicide bombings, whatever rash stuff they may have bragged in internet chat rooms.


Silver

You know you’re getting old when :

You haven’t shaved for a couple of days, then look in the mirror and realise that probably a quarter of the hairs showing are actually grey. (or gray, if you’re American)

That’s just a depressing way to start the morning…


Hacked

Over the weekend, it looks like one of the company’s sites was hacked. Well, originally it looked like some fucking idiot had decided to make it so that *everyone* could delete stuff, and many other things, which I managed to get fixed just fine. Of course, Arsehole Boss, our *cough* “Chief Technical Officer” had no bloody idea what to do, how to sort it out, or anything, so it ended up that I had to fix it. On my XDA, through the web-browser, over a shitty low-speed connection. And it still took less than quarter of an hour to fix.

Today, though, it’s turned out that yes, all the administrator passwords for the site admin had been altered. Fortunately, the major passwords to allow access to the server back end, but of course our Chief Technical Officer has no idea how to get in to databases etc., or how to fix anything like this. Luckily, the rest of us know what we’re up to, so today has been spent fixing problems, changing passwords, blocking access to certain users, IP addresses etc., as well as deleting or blocking certain people (like [ex-SysAdmin]) so that there’s no chance of them being the problem.

And yes, I am aware that in a lot of companies the CTO knows fuck all about the exact technology being used etc., but in this case, with a small number of employees, let’s not forget that Arsehole Boss is also the person who recommended we use this system in the first place because – and I quote – “It’s easy for any idiot to use”. So you’d at least hope that he might know what he was doing with this particular system. But ooohhhh, no. You’d be wrong…


TATP

And in line with my own healthy dose of cynicism, The Register has a piece on the supposed explosives in planes, including how much it would take to do damage, and also just what a supposed terrorist would’ve had to do in order to blow up said planes with said explosives.

Very funny, in a healthily cynical kind of way…


WWID – The thoughts and responses

OK, so – following on from this post where Gordon asked what I’d do in relation to terorrist plots, here’s a few thoughts.

Bear in mind these are all based on a couple of fairly major assumptions, namely

  1. I’m Prime Minister, or equally high up in government
  2. I can also turn back time
  3. I have the power and support to do these things – although not as a dictatorship, obviously. That’s got its own problems

Because the first thing I’d do is tell the US to sod off, heed my own people’s obvious protest and marches etc., and not get involved in the war in Iraq. Personally I believe that one decision would’ve saved us all a lot of the hassle that’s followed. Simply standing up, heeding the electorate’s voice/wishes, and looking like a respectable statesman and “man of the people”, rather than some renfield of Bush.

As for the hysteria and hype regarding terror plots and the like, I would probably do the following:

  • Not use the “threat level indicator” as a political and media tool – Bruce Shneier writes about this far more eloquently than I can – but instead attempt the (for a politician) earth-shatteringly different policy of being honest. Currently that level is “Severe” which means “an attack is highly likely”. Which really is just mealy-mouthed political bullshit. It doesn’t give a timescale, it doesn’t give any indications, and that status could apply anytime, anywhere. There’s always the chance of an attack somewhere, sometime.
  • Carrying on from that, I think just a basic rider of Being Honest would work wonders, particularly if also blended with some common sense, rather than hysterical reaction.
  • Personally I’d also try to have worked to provide a relationship with the media that also wasn’t based around hysteria and panic. Perhaps prosecuting some of the papers and/or TV media for promoting racial hatred and bigotry would do the job.

And with regard to airport security and the like? Hmm, I don’t know just yet. I agree that security checks are necessary – but (again going with that Honesty and non-Hysteria thing) I’d want ones that actually did something. The hysterical reactions to stupid shit like the “shoe-bomber”, and now having to remove shoes – that’d get stopped. Or if shoe checks are necessary then you bloody well make sure that you provide benches or something for people to sit on and put the damn things back on again afterwards…

I’d not have put in a lot of the crap about nail-clippers etc. in the main security check, though. What I would do would be put the security screeners on a decent wage, rather than being at minimum wages. If it became necessary, make that section into a government organisation, and do it efficiently. Pay for decent people instead of minimum wage, and get people who are capable of making the process a lot smoother and more efficient. Enforce getting decent training, and also arrange for full-blown training exercises. That is the way to get both the airports, the staff, and the public used to this sort of issue – do it, while making it very public that this is a training exercise – give people warning of what they will and will not be able to do during that training exercise. So you make it real, and yes, it’ll be a pain in the arse, but it means everyone knows what’s going on.

I think actually that works as an idea.

But it’s not just airports – it’s making people aware without making them paranoid. I haven’t quite got that sussed yet.

What I would do though is look at the bigger issues. Personally I believe wholeheartedly in an integrated society – where all people are treated the same. I know I’ve caused ructions about this before, and I never explain it all that well, but basically I believe that people should be treated the way we wish to be treated. I don’t want to force my religion, beliefs, creed, or whatever down anyone else’s throat, and I don’t believe anyone else should be allowed to do the same to me. At the same time though, I think that people should accept others, and not try to use the differences in order to divide and pigeonhole. Unfortunately, I think that’s too optimistic, because by nature Man seems to want to divide, categorise, and pigeonhole – and build up wars and conflict around those differences.

So if I were PM? The main thing I would do would be to bring in a policy of equality. Not lip-service, not this bullshit “inclusive” society where every little faction has it’s own sector – which seems to be what most people think “inclusive” means. In my experiences with local government and the like, being “inclusive” meant having a seperate department and “team” for every different faith in the area, every racial background, every sexuality and orientation, and to me that was actually divisive, not inclusive.

Equality – treating everyone the same, that’s the idea. Working so that people don’t feel minimised, disowned, disenfranchised, and thus don’t despise their own country.

Or am I completely wrong? I’m looking forward to the comments on this one…


The Move’s Back On

Would you believe that today we’ve been told that actually, yes, the rest of the office is moving to London after all?

I swear, you just couldn’t make this shit up.

So next Friday all the stuff is supposed to be getting moved to London, and we’re supposed to start up there on Tuesday. (Monday being a bank holiday)

Complete fucking insanity.

Filed under : Organise, Piss-Up, and Brewery.


Affected

So now we’ve had pretty much a week of the new security regime at airports, and what I was wondering was this : Who actually wins in this “war” against terrorism?

Supposedly there was a “plot”. Fine. Maybe there was, maybe there wasn’t. Whatever. I’m not going to dispute it for the moment.

But because of this plot, everyone who was taking a flight was affected. The authorities and government are forever banging on about how they’re making us more secure, so that terrorism can’t blight our lives. We’ll never bow down to terrorists. We’re making sure that terrorism can’t affect your life. Blah, blah, blah.

But actually, the terrorists win this one before they’ve even started. Without setting off a single device, without hijacking anything, with no deaths, injuries, or – really – effort at all, they’ve managed to paralyse all the major UK airports, get their cause on to every single piece of worldwide media, and have knock-on effects for hundreds of thousands of people. If not millions of people. Talk about effective!

And it’s still ongoing. After September 11th, all the airport security was stepped up. It’s still like it today. That’s five years down the line, and people still think of Al-Qaeda, Osama Bin Bag, et al. Our lifestyles have changed because of terrorism. Now there are even more restrictions in place, and it’s because of terrorism. Governments and authorities have reacted – to a purported plot, not to an event – and by those actions have affected every single person flying from (or to) the UK for the last week. They’ve put the thoughts of terrorism into people’s heads, made them think about it, and really have done the terrorists job for them.

Good, isn’t it?


Inconveniencing

Excellent cartoon about the recent security scares/hype/hysteria*

(* = delete as applicable)


Pissed Off

So, yes, yesterday’s email that needed to be written. Depressingly, it’s about the new job.

Having waited a week longer than promised to get the verbal offer (so that they could ‘sort out all the paperwork, make sure everything’s right, and get it all signed off’), and accepted that offer despite it involving a £7000 pay-cut (I figure that if nothing else, it gets us up to the area we want to be in. After that I can work on the rest, and make that money up with some *ahem* independent work.) and then waited another two weeks without hearing anything, or getting any written confirmation (which also means I’ve not handed in my notice to the company yet – that may yet turn out to be A Good Thing) I got two phone calls on Friday.

Call One : “Oh, hello, I’m just calling from HR to get details of two references.” Which should’ve been done already through the agency. “Well, I didn’t know ’til today that you were even starting.”. Not the most reassuring.

But the best is yet to come…

Call Two : “Hi, it’s [Future Boss]. I’ve been going through the figures, and it turns out we can’t pay you £xx,000, so we’ll have to drop it to £xx-1,000 .” You must be taking the mickey. (that’s an exact quote, by the way – “taking the mickey”, that’s all I said) “No, we’ve made a mistake, and it’ll be £1000 less than we initially offered. That’s the council’s payscales. I can’t do anything about it”

Now, bearing in mind that I’m getting this job through an agency, the council shouldn’t have even been contacting me direct, which doesn’t help. I get hold of the agency, and ask them to find out what the chuff is going on. They come back and tell me that yes, the offer is now for £1000 less, because they’ve made a mistake. Also, [Future Boss] turns out to be a somewhat sensitive soul, and has taken the huff about me asking if he was taking the mickey, and now worries that I won’t be able to handle the “high-stress” work in the council. (I’ve done this shit before – high stress it most certainly isn’t)

So the snotty email was to the agency, basically pointing out that a) they’re taking the piss, and b) if [Future Boss] is going to be that sensitive, my concerns about what’ll happen if/when (emphasis on the latter) I’m forced to suggest something new, or criticise something existing.

At the moment the application and so on is still going ahead, even with the extra pay cut. I’m epically pissed off about it (oooh, won’t be able to use that expression around [Future Boss]) and seeing what the agency do about it. And in the meantime, well, really it could be back to Square One, and sending out CVs and applications, although that depends on what happens between agency and council, I suppose.

Bloody Fuck


PoX-Factor

Bah HumbugIt’s fast becoming the first sign of the Festering Season, or at least the run-up to it.

Yes, I’ve seen the adverts for the first episode of the new X-Factor. It starts next Saturday, and (as usual) will run to a couple of weeks before Christmas. Just in time for the winner to get the “Christmas single”, in fact.

And, on a cynical note (of which I’m sure I’ll explain a lot more closer to the time) I bet the winner this year is a “group”.


BMW

One thing I will absolutely not miss about this area is the sheer number of BMW drivers that’re around. (and yes, I do include drivers of the new Mini in this sweeping statement – it’s made by BMW, ergo they’re BMW drivers

Yes, I’m sure Norfolk will have some as well – but this area seems to breed the buggers. And as you may know, I think BMW drivers are just awesomely bad. It’s a sweeping generalisation, and I’m sure there’re some BMW owners who are capable of driving well. It’s just that I’ve never met any of them.

I reckon you could get pretty good odds that on any given day, you’ll see a large proportion of piss-poor driving that’s done by BMW drivers. Jumping lights, wrong lanes at roundabouts, cutting people up, middle-lane-driving on motorways, speeding while flashing lights at people to get out the way, ignoring “no entry” road signs – I’ve seen them all. Coupled with an apparent inability to use complicated devices such as – oooh – mirrors, indicators, or (at night) the “dipped headlights” lever.

Of course, it’s not just BMW drivers that’re bad. It’s just that it seems like there are more bad BMW drivers than there are bad drivers of other car brands.

Whatever it is, though, I won’t miss the fuckers one iota.


Chaos

OK, so supposedly the UK police have foiled a terrorist ‘plot’ to blow up a bundle of planes. Aye, right.

Maybe I’m just an utter cynic, but isn’t it great how

  1. this got released one day after Our Illustrious Leader flew off (long-haul) on his hols
  2. this got released one week after the decision to make the UK ‘shit-scared level’ publically accessible
  3. it supposedly makes people feel ‘more secure’ by making them wait longer at airport checkins

What it does go to show is just how shit the current security checks are when you get to an airport. In fact, let’s face it, they’re all there to make the public feel safer. “Oh, terrorists can’t get on our flight, because we’ve been checked once, and all our stuff’s been X-rayed.” We’ll just gloss over the entire farcical fact that once you’ve gone through that X-ray machine, you’re in the food area, where you can get served meals with metal cutlery (order a steak – see what you get to cut it with!), buy perfume bottles you can shatter into heavy glass knives, and buy gift sets with the dreaded nail file and/or scissors.

At the moment you’re not allowed to take on most of your hand luggage, instead it has to be checked in to the hold. Now OK, that’s fair enough. But hang on, um, if there are explosives in that hand luggage, they’re still going to be putting it on the sodding plane!

And on the subject of explosives, OK, you’ve uncovered this plot to blow planes out of the sky. Right. You’ve buggered up the plans and announced them to the world, but the current security scare is because “there might be people we haven’t detected yet”. Now, any prospective terrorist who’s got a brain cell won’t be heading to the airport. Oh no. They’ll be going to the train station, or the bus station, or the motorway service station, where there’s no security, and causing chaos that way instead. If they’ve got the explosive, they’ll use it – just not on a plane. That’s not cynicism, that’s common sense.

Personally I’m a total cynic, and don’t believe this “plot” at all. It does, however, provide a viable story (which could equally be made into a Hollywood action movie) for the resultant media hysteria, as well as the security forces being able to say “Look, we’re great, we broke this ‘plot’ – we need more money in the next budget so we can keep on breaking up these plots” and for the government to trolley out the same old shit about “we need ID cards, so this sort of thing won’t happen, and it’ll be easier to process people through airports etc. Oh yes it will. Honest” It works on the slightly warped logic that people will feel safer because we’re “stopping terrorism”, and we’re aware of these plots to kill people, so we’ll tell you all about it, scare the shit out of you, and you’ll fucking welcome the extra security measures and totalitarian surveillance that we bring in on the back of it. In fact, you’ll bloody well want to have your lives on camera, your calls listened to, your ID stamped in a barcode on your forehead, because it’s Special Home-office Intelligence on Terrorism.

Or SHIT for short.


Plasma

When I was walking Hound last night, it was getting dark, but quite a few people still had curtains open. (God that makes me sound like a perv, doesn’t it? Ah well)

Anyway, one thing I noticed while out was quite how bloody ugly a lot of the new wall-mounted plasma TV screens actually are. They’re hard to miss, to be honest.

So first of all, wouldn’t it make sense to – well – close curtains etc.? Otherwise surely you’re just advertising “Hey, we can afford (or at least get the credit for) a big 40″ plasma” ?

But also, to me they’re just intrusive. I don’t want to lose half the wallspace in a room to a fucking TV. Great, it’s thin, and can hang on a wall. But why would I want it to? Personally, I much prefer to take up wallspace with prints of photos I’ve taken, or that other people have taken. The TV can sit in its proper place, in the corner of the room.

I don’t know, maybe I’m just some kind of Luddite, but I simply can’t see the appeal of hanging a TV off the wall, and letting it dominate the room.


Truth

I just saw this (sadly unattributed) quote, and thought it summed up a lot of the problem (in corporate terms) for green energy in general…

We will have solar energy as soon as the utility companies solve one technical problem — how to run a sunbeam through a meter.


Unsuccessful

Arsehole Boss has managed to avoid me all day – an at least semi-impressive task, given that there’s only eight of us in the office – but any time I see he’s free, he’s always “about to do something” which he perceives as important.

It should be pointed out that this includes such hyper-relevant stuff as installing an Xbox 360 in the new “staff lounge” (ex-meeting room) so it’s nice to see where his priorities lie.

In truth, I’m not all that bothered. It just means that I’ll do everything I need to as an email tomorrow to AB, the CEO, and the head of HR, and it’ll just be official, instead of working through word-of-mouth. Because, of course, with the office move all the important (well, relevant, anyway) people are now in London, which means us lowly developers don’t get to see them. Great in most circumstances, but utterly fucking shit when it comes to things like wanting to see the buggers, in order to try and sort out a decent leaving package…

Still, roll on tomorrow – it should make it more fun, and in some ways it actually works to my advantage, as it’ll conveniently illustrate why I feel I’m being sidelined, and my position made untenable in the company…


Shuffling About

So OK, we didn’t move offices in the end. (The admin and management people did, but so far the developers have been able to stay put) However, that doesn’t mean Arsehole Boss is happy.

So instead we’ve all had to move desks within the office “to make space for the new people when they join us” – whenever that may be.

Really I think it’s just disruption for disruption’s sake. But there we go.

Finite time. Finite time. Finite time.


Working Week

A display of the way the company “works”…

  • Monday : According to company lore, we’re moving offices in a week’s time to London. Three new people – two developers (one web dev, one application dev), one admin-type techie- start work in the current office, all on the understanding that we’re moving to London. All three live in London, and two have just moved to London primarily because of the new job.
  • Tuesday : As described here, it’s a U-turn, and all of a sudden the web development teams are staying in the current office, while everyone else moves to London.
  • Wednesday : All change again – the web development team are going to be based in London for a month, as the newly built team won’t be at full strength ’til September, so web stuff can be done in London, then moved back to the current office in September. During that month, the web people will all work on temporary computers, or perhaps laptops.
  • Thursday : All change. Again. Now all the developers, both web and application, will stay in the current office. There’s no need for them to do the month in London. And it’s just the office admin and non-techies who will be based in London.
  • Friday : Who knows? I’m sure I’ll keep everyone up to date as the day goes on…

Bullshitters and Incompetents

I’m off for a meeting tonight in London – the same private website I’ve been working on (and occasionally ranting about) over the last month or so.

It’s all ended up being consistently last-minute, with no real organisation, and a whole bunch of clowns who say they can do their stuff, but so far that conceit has been repeatedly disproved. Which, as regular readers may have noticed, drives me utterly crackers. I know it shouldn’t, that I should be used to it by now, but well, I’m not.

You see, I come from this background where if I can do something, then yes, I’ll shout it from the rooftops. I’m not overly good at being modest – but when it comes to this stuff, I’m bloody good at what I do. And if I don’t know how to do something, then I either a) find out, or b) say “No, I don’t know what you mean by that”. Which seems – to me – to be a pretty sensible way of dealing with life in general.

So when other people tell me “Yes, we know what we’re doing, we’ve done it before”, I tend to believe them. And then I get pissed off when it turns out that actually, they’ve no fucking idea what they’re talking about. Particularly when, by doing things wrong, they then fuck up the stuff that I’ve written already.

Yet somehow it’s me that’s in the wrong. I don’t know if it’s because I just get on and do stuff without fucking it up, or just that these people expect me to talk as much bollocks and bullshit as they do, but if I get pissed off at their incompetence, it’s my fault. I haven’t figured the logic of that one just yet. Maybe I’ll let you all know when/if I do suss it out.

And in the meantime, what’s the best option? Do I just assume that when people say they can write websites, or do certain types of code, or – well – anything, really, that they’re actually lying, and thus utter cunts? Do I save myself the time and stress, by just assuming that everyone else is incompetent? No, probably not – because then I’m just stereotyping, and last time I did that I got accused of being patronising, because I simply assumed that the person I was talking to actually didn’t know what the shit they were talking about.

It’s a no-win situation.

Maybe I should just not let myself get stressed by fuckwits and bullshitters. Yeah, like that‘s gonna happen…


Planning Ahead

File under “Has to be seen to be believed” :

You are Arsehole Boss. On a whim, you have decided to move your company from its current offices to ones in London, for no real reason except that you no longer want to be in the current location. You have signed the contract for a year’s lease of the new office. You still have a year of lease on the current office, but hey, that doesn’t matter, because you’re moving to London. You’ve spent the money on the current lease already – it doesn’t have to show up in this year’s accounts, so who cares?

Three days before everyone in the office moves to London, and all their equipment etc., you suddenly think to do a headcount, and figure out how many people are going to be in that London office.

The London office has room for 12 people – maybe 15 at a push. Your current plans involve a company that has 30-35 people within the next three months. You think “Oh shit”

All of a sudden the office that was going to be abandoned and left empty has a use again. And some of the people who you’ve been giving job offers to, with the explicit location of “London” are going to be messed about, pissed off, or plain change their minds when you get round to telling them.

Laugh? I almost shat myself. You just couldn’t make this crap up – and if you wrote it as a comedy, everyone would say that the characters and situations were unbelievable.


Depressed

Do you ever have a day where you finally realise that actually it is everyone else that’s at fault?

I’m very loath to make sweeping judgement calls like that usually, but today’s been one of the very few days where it actually ends up coming through as the only sane answer.

On the one hand I’m working with a private client, and their designers who swore they knew what they were up to, and really good web programmers – yet have come up with a design for a home page that is, um, entirely an image map. Oh, and they don’t know “how include files work”, and can’t understand how I’m using them in the site architecture. (for the non-geeky I should point out that we’re talking really simple concepts here, such as the site navigation being put in an “include” file, which means you just have one file with the navigation in, and include it from every page you write. Even the syntax is simple – “include(‘navigation.php’)” Rocket science it ain’t)

On the other hand I’m still working in a company that thinks that upping sticks and moving the office to London, when most of the people who work for the company are based in this area, primarily because it’s a whim of Arsehole Boss and the new(ish) Chairman, can in no way be seen as forming the basis for constructive dismisal tribunals. Oh, and that they can just sack people, rather than going through the – contracted – disciplinary procedure of two official verbal warnings, two written warnings, and then you can be sacked. Apparently, this doesn’t apply to them, and they can do what they want.

I’m currently considering a campaign of shit-flinging, which would include reporting them to

  • the board
  • the venture capital people
  • Inland Revenue
  • Customs and Excise
  • and maybe the Anti-Terrorist hotline, if I feel really vindictive
  • And anyone else relevant I can think of

So yes, today is one of the days where I end up figuring that maybe I’m the only semi-sane one around here. And let’s face it, I can’t be entirely sane, because of the sheer amount of shit I’ve been putting up with…

Addendum : I should point out that this post is not making out I’m perfect, because I’m not, and certain other errors fuckups have since come to light that’re entirely my fault. However, I can fix them in ten seconds (and have done) while everyone else is still pissing and moaning and being utter fuckin’ numpties. So I still rest my case , although with the proviso that I know I’m not perfect either. So there.


Confirmation of Suspicions

Great, another reason to not use PowerPoint.

Thanks, Microsoft…


Thames Water again

So Thames Water are in line for a huge fine because of their utterly deficient customer service?

How much do we want to bet that they’ll weasel out of it one way or another?


New Paradigms Redux

I’ve been asked to point out by Herself’s Sister that, despite what I wrote on Tuesday about GameTart.com, they’re actually still a useless bunch of fuckers when it comes to customer service.

She’s tried on multiple occasions (and we’re talking “in the tens” rather than “one or two”) to get hold of them and sort problems out, and so far has never yet been successful.

So while they may check out their own references on Google, they’re still a bag of shit when it comes to the important stuff.


Inventing Toys

(via Slashdot)
There’s an interesting interview here on Business Week with the man who’s now in charge of Mattel’s toy car section. That’s Matchbox, HotWheels, and Tyco – hardly small names.

What makes it interesting is that he’s talking about how technology can go into modern toys, but at the same time that it’s better to leave some things up to children’s imaginations, rather than getting tech to do everything for them. I think it’s a valid point, and makes for an interesting read.


Cliched

How unimaginative do you have to be, to call your two Dalmatian dogs Pongo and Perdita?

I saw a couple in the park this morning while walking Hound (which is her nom de blog, rather than demonstrating a lack of imagination) who had done exactly that…


Change of Direction?

There are some time periods where I really do love working on websites, and getting everything together in the way it should be. Sometimes those time periods are months, sometimes they’re only weeks, days, or even hours.

Currently I’m not getting any of them at all. The combination of the current “proper” workplace (which uses one of the loosest definitions of the word “proper” yet known to man) and the current set of external clients has conspired to bring me to a point where, frankly, I fucking hate what I’m doing.

No, I guess that’s not fair. I still enjoy hacking about with sites, HTML, CSS, databases, SQL, and all that crap. I do enjoy – even love – doing that. I know, I know, that’s incredibly sad. Don’t knock it.

However, the people described above are conspiring to make me hate the work side, the people I work for, and bosses in general. That’s not really anything new, if I’m honest.

But all the same, right now, when I’m looking at a weekend of shit work, because some fucking idiot who doesn’t know what they’re talking about, and has brought their site launch forwards by two fucking months, and when the crap is at least neck-high (and rising) at work, and it just makes me want to jack it all in and say “Screw it”. I don’t tell them how to design a fucking house, yet they seem to see no problem in telling me how to build a website.

In fact, in my lunch-hour today I was doing a lot of thinking, and I’m pretty sure that the next job I get is going to be one where it all either works out and comes together, or I have to look at either a) going back to being self-employed (although that still leaves the issue of fuckwit cunt clients) or b) going for a complete career change – perhaps still doing my own websites like Wheres Good on the side, in my own time, but not actually working on websites full time at all.

And to be honest, I’m not exactly happy about being pushed into a position where that seems like a smart way of developing myself.


Good Policy?

OK, you have an ex-SysAdmin who has been fired, told he’s a useless cunt (in exactly those terms) and who you’ve now re-hired as a consultant to take you through the period where you don’t actually have a SysAdmin.

In the meantime, you want to take the site that SysAdmin wrote, and give it a new look – effectively, redesign it, but without changing any of the underlying functionality. It’s purely cosmetic, a “changing of the guard” type thing. The redesign is seen, company-wide, as being pointless, and a waste of time/effort, as the next big job is – um – rewriting the underlying structure of the entire site, as it’s currently a nightmare. However, this will take about three months. So first you want to do the redesign, before going and doing the serious work. Bear in mind, the redesign will take at least a month.

While this SysAdmin is back on contract, you plan to tell him to impelement the redesign of a site – the site he wrote single-handedly, over five years – and bear in mind, this site redesign is the main reason that the conflict arose in the first place. SysAdmin doesn’t agree with the redesign (and has been exceedingly vocal about it), thinks it’s being done for the wrong reasons (it is and that the necessary time to do it could be better spent elsewhere. (it could) And you’re going to insist that SysAdmin tests it all, and makes sure it doesn’t conflict with any of the parallel sites that all run off the same basic underlying code and templates.

Hmmm, why do I suspect that this site redesign is going to be an utter nightmare?


Insuring

You know one of the most depressing things around? Getting quotes for car insurance.

Up ’til now, I’ve been a named driver on Herself’s car insurance – it makes a lot more sense for the first year of driving, as that’s when insurers add on an arbitrary amount, just for having passed the test. Of course, the downside is that after a year’s driving, I still have no No Claims Bonus. Ah well.

Anyway, once we’ve moved – as and when it happens – to Norfolk, it’s most likely going to mean that we need two cars, which’ll mean the current one becomes mine, and another (smaller) one becomes Herself’s. And that means I’ve got to sort out insurance on the current one. So I’ve been getting quotes.

So far, MoreThan will cost me £646 , or £57 per month, and DirectLine will cost me £690, or £57 per month. (No, I haven’t quite worked that out either – I probably mis-read something)

Then I went to Norwich Union, just for a laugh. Their “Quote Me Happy” campaign has been laughably bad, and I know when I was looking for house insurance they were awesomely high – in fact, about twice the price of anyone else. So OK, same details, and *quote* – fucking sweet Jesus H Christ on a smelly warped pine crutch – £1532, or £140 per month?!?!?

Quote me fucking incredulous, more like. Now I can see why all the people in the adverts piss themselves laughing when they get their quote…


Outta Town

Ah, fantastic.

Arsehole Boss has organised a change of mail servers for the company, moving it all to a new server with a new hosting company. (well, with the hosting company we picked a while back, but hadn’t moved things like mail servers to yet)

No warnings, no information, just a call to say “It’s been moved”. At 4pm on a Friday.

However, as most people use IMAP instead of POP3, (Yours Truly being an exception to the rule) it means that most people’s mail records were held on the server. Which has moved. And not been backed up.

90% of the office has now lost all their mail records for up to the last eighteen months. All the mailing lists, auto-responders, mail groups, and forwarding etc has been deleted, with no real records of what points where, or why. In short, everything’s gone (unless you kept regular local backups, which of course 90% of people didn’t)

Arsehole Boss was warned repeatedly by ex-SysAdmin that this would be an issue, but of course AB knew better… And the chances of recovering any of that mail archive? Pretty much minimal, as only ex-SysAdmin has access to any of the backup data. Do we have passwords to get to it? Do we fuck-as-like.

All together now…

Oh, what a beautiful morning
Oh what a wonderful day…


July 7

OK, first of all, I’m not saying any of what follows to be denigrating to the people who did suffer in the suicide bombings on July 7th last year. I just want to make that absolutely clear.

However, how does huge media coverage of the memorial events make any difference? And why are we all being pushed into a 2 minute “memorial” silence for it? I don’t have a problem with the various news services showing the memorial events – personally, I think they should be private, for people who were involved and affected by the events, rather than this Diana-esque national outpouring of faux grief, but that’s my view – but I don’t see why entire breakfast programmes and so on had to cover the subject.

Maybe it’s just me, but the BBC and ITV programmes this morning seemed to be glorifying the acts of terrorism – and wasn’t that supposed to be becoming a criminal act? The BBC bleated on earlier this week about how a survey said that 13% of those surveyed thought the bombers were “martyrs” for “the cause”, yet now they’re going through the events in detail, showing how badly everything was affected. Is that not making the bombers, the causes of these events, into – to some minds at least – heroes?

I realise that the London bombs affected a lot of people, and I agree that there should be memorial services, events and the like. Should they be made national, with things like the 2 minute silence? Probably not. Should the memorial services be televised, with people’s grief and memories of the events made public, made into just so many more 3-minute filler items? No.

And how do the people who were involved feel? Surely these news reports, with video footage of the events, just brings it all back to life for them?

I don’t know. I don’t know anyone who was affected by the London bombings. I can’t speak from experience. What I do know is that the media coverage just leaves a really nasty taste in the mouth.


Prepared?

OK, here’s a simple one…

If you were applying for a job as a web developer, and you included a couple of sites you’ve worked on as showcase URLs for what you could do, wouldn’t you make sure that they were actually working? And not just a “new website coming soon” page?

Or is that just me?


You can tell it’s summer

Brilliance.

5. The cat is scratching the words “Shave me, shave me” on every available surface. The dog is writing letters of complaint to the design committee that dictated that panting rather than, say, unzippable pelts should be the main method of canine temperature regulation.


Getting Away With It

I can’t believe that Thames Water have managed to get away with not having to even pay a fine on their awesome leakage figures I wrote about a while back.

OK, so they’ve been “forced” (their words, not mine) to spend £150m on stopping leaks, but that’s what the shyster bastards should have been doing anyway. But oh no, tell them they might get fined, then let them off. They must be laughing all the way to the bank.


Spam of the Week

Sometimes (as I’ve mentioned before) my spam turns weapons-grade weird. Today’s effort is one of those times…

Hello my dear friend
I was looking tharough the web few weeks ago and found
your profile. Now I decidead to email you to get to know
you better. I am comiang to your country in few weaeks
and thought may be we can meet each obther. I am pretty
looking girl. bI am 25. Do anot repbly to this address
direcbtlay. Email me back at olcl@snail4mail.com

Yes, I’ve always wanted to meet up with a random foreigner who can’t spell/type. <sarcasm>It’s my ambition in life. </sarcasm> And yes, the email’s left there too – I figure spambots might as well catch up with a spammers email for once.


Stickup

With the van that’s been parked outside our office for the last hour, blocking half the road, I’ve gone back to wanting to make up some stickers – with hyper-strong adhesive – that I can slap onto people’s windscreens, printed (on the sticky side, so they can see it when they sit in the car) with the phrase

“Thanks for parking like a cunt”

in very large bold print.

I know, I’ve proposed it before, but the desire is getting stronger and stronger, the more I work in this office and see just how cuntish these drivers are.

Mind you, in twunt-boy’s case, I’d also love to see some grumpy trucker (and that’s not rhyming slang) just barge past, and scrape all down the side of the van. Now that would be funny as fuck.


System Administration

Sometimes you really have to wonder about this company.

Two weeks ago, Arsehole Boss sacked the system administrator, basically because the SysAdmin kept on disagreeing with Arsehole Boss. Yes, there was other stuff too, but that’s the basic thrust of it.

So this morning I get a call.

Arsehole Boss : Lyle, we need to find out all the root passwords to the servers.
Me : I’ve no idea what they are – [SysAdmin] never told me. He was the only one who knew them.
Arsehole Boss : But we’ve got to find them out, so he can’t get in to the system.
Me : Well surely we did that before you sacked him?
Arsehole Boss : Well, no.
Me : …
Arsehole Boss : Oh, and we need to find out where all the domain names are registered, and who to, and what the admin passwords are.
Me : [Sysadmin] was in charge of all that. I’ve never had to use the domain admin stuff. But surely we got that before you sacked him, as it’s all company assets, and, if he were being a cunt, he could set all our domains to point to porn sites, for example? And we then couldn’t reset them without the admin passwords which, um, we haven’t got?
Arsehole Boss : Yes. We need to get them before he does anything like that.
Me : Would’ve been easier when he worked for us, really, wouldn’t it?

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.


HP7

So, JK Rowling is planning to kill off two characters in the final Harry Potter book? So what? Is this news?

Personally, I’m rather more surprised that she’s only killing off two. I’d have thought that you could have far more fun with Voldemort going on the rampage, and killing off all the do-gooders one-by-one ’til the final showdown.

But hey, what would I know.


Game Tart

Recently, I wrote a little bit about a company called GameTart.com, and their shonky procedures. I left them because they were turning deeply shit, and never responded to any queries.

Yesterday, when I checked my bank account online, I saw that they’d charged me for another month’s membership. Cue ballistic Lyle.

I sent them an email through their website, asking them what the hell was going on, and asking them to call me.
Nothing.
I sent them another email (they don’t do convenient things like, say, having a phone number) asking them, again, to explain why I’d been charged, and to call me (and yes, I did include a phone number) so that this could be sorted out.
Nothing.

I got a call this morning, where they tried making out they’d replied to emails, and they’d all bounced. Convenient – especially considering that every other email I was expecting yesterday came through fine. Then they tried making out that they’d called me yesterday, but the phone had been busy. Which is, in theory, possible – except that when it’s busy, it goes direct to voicemail. Ooops.

Anyway, the situation’s sorted. It’s still left me with a feeling that they’re actually just a small-time business with very few staff, and less consideration for customers though.


Inland Revenue

Finally, it looks like my ongoing fight with the Inland Revenue may just be coming to a close.

Way back in March last year, I got a snotty letter from the Inland Revenue telling me that my tax return for 2003/4 was now officially late, and I was being slapped with a penalty fine of £100 as a result. OK, fine – except, well, I hadn’t actually received a tax return for 2003/4. I called them immediately, and told them so. “We’ll send one out, and put the account on hold” they said.

Did they fuck as like.

In May I got another demand – it was still late, another £100 had been thrown at me, and I still hadn’t received the bloody tax return in the first place. Another call, another promise, and finally a tax return arrived. I filled it in, enclosed all the shit they asked for (P45, P60, blah blah) and sent it back. Like a numpty, I didn’t send it recorded delivery.

Yes, Inland Revenue lost it. Along with all the documents. Oh shit.

Everything’s gone on from there, really. Two more returns (one lost, one finally received), shitloads of demands for money, invoices, the lot. Oh, and a similar scenario for the 2004/5 one, which started happening this year, to a disturbingly similar pattern.

Finally it’s all looking like it’s been sorted. It turns out that a company I was a director of, and left back in August ’04, hadn’t told Inland Revenue I’d left. (and had earned fuck-all with) So Inland Revenue thought I was still self-employed, and getting money from the company. Except I’d left them, and told Companies House so as well. Your standard “linked up government” *cough* scenario. I got a return for 2005/6 as well, but it now looks like common sense may have taken hold, and I won’t have to fill it in. That’s getting verified today, as you can imagine. I want that decision in writing. Ideally in 48point bold, with flashing lights.

And the final amount? After two years of stress, hassle, threats of court, (Well, being told the day before the court date “Oh, you’re supposed to be in court tomorrow”. I’m sure there’s some kind of statutory requirement to fucking tell me that? “Oh, we sent out a letter”. In a similar way to the other ones that I haven’t received? “Oh.”) threats of bailiffs and tax inspectors?

£150

That’s it. One hundred and fifty sodding pounds. It’s cost more than that, just in administration at their end. Hell, it’s cost me a bundle just in phone calls and postage. Pity I can’t count that against the payment.

Still, the cheque goes off today, and hopefully that’ll be the end of it…


HD

Is it just me, or is the entire HD TV “revolution” just the teeny-weeniest bit hyped?

OK, sure, you can get “crystal-clear” pictures. (For the time being we’ll gloss over the fact that nearly all HDTV screens are plasma or LCD, and thus suffer problems with pixel-lag, blurring, blah, blah, blah) But to do so – and frankly the current crop of HD transmissions don’t make this worthwhile – means buying:

  • a new HD-ready TV
  • A new HD set-top box
  • paying extra to subscribe to the HD channels
  • and if you want to see DVDs etc. in HD

  • a new HD-ready DVD player
  • more cables

Currently it’s reckoned that to see HD stuff, you’re likely to need to invest at least £2,000 . All for nice “crystal clear” pictures.

So I’m sorry, but at the moment I really don’t see the point of shelling out for that. If it’s successful, the price for all this equipment will fall. It will become cheaper, more available, and there will be better content.

For now, though – well, thanks, but I’ll wait ’til I need to upgrade to that kind of kit.


Management Tactics

(via Meish)

I’m wondering if I should show this article about “how not to manage techies” to Arsehole Boss.

However, I suspect he wouldn’t get it at all. Or would think it didn’t apply to him anyway.

*sigh*


Mouth Before Brain

It’s been another shitty day, with “urgent” projects and amendments that need to be done yesterday.

However, it means that when push comes to shove, my mouth is on autopilot when it comes to Arsehole Boss.

AB : Lyle, you shouldn’t take these things personally.
Me : Oh, I don’t. I just assume that the world is filled with incompetent bastards who can’t find their own arses with both hands and a flashlight.
AB : … [ silence ]
Me : Know what? I’m rarely wrong.


Common Sense

Scene : A major commuter railway station. 8.30am.
A flood of people are coming off the train from London to work here. The flood is such that people wanting to get in to the station can’t.

Why?

Because the fucking twunts in the station have locked half the doors, so no-one can use them, in or out.

When I asked why this was, the first person said “I don’t know, I’m Revenue, I just check tickets.”

Well, can you pass the comment on to someone who does work in the sodding station?
“Oh no, I’m just Revenue. You’ll have to talk to the guy in the ticket office”
Grrr.
So I ask him.
“Well, I suppose we could unlock it. Don’t see why though.”
Because it’s busy?
“Oh, I suppose so”

Talk about enthusiasm. I bet the sodding thing’s still locked when I go home tonight.


Standard Working Practice

Last Friday we had a problem with one of the company sites, which happens to be run on the Mambo piece of shit Content Management System. We’ve recently swapped servers for it, and moved to a hosted thing by Rackspace, instead of using the servers we own – supposedly this is a good move, because it gives us trained support people, rather than all relying on our lonely sys-admin.

Anyway, on Friday it turned out we couldn’t do some stuff on the site through Mambo, basically because the Rackspace servers are configured differently to the ones we did have, and Arsehole Boss didn’t bother to do the transfer properly, so we keep finding config problems on the “new” site where Rackspace runs things differently. In short, it’s a fuckup.

This “super-important” issue was raised at 4.45 on a Friday afternoon, and was “imperative” to be fixed before we left.

The email from me on Friday ended up as follows:

What we have established is the following :

  • If you edit one of the existing links, then Mambo comes back with the "file not found" error.
  • If you create a link, Mambo comes back with the "file not found" error.
  • If you create a link – even to a local file on the site – Mambo comes back with the "file not found" error.

We believe that the Rackspace configuration is such that it will not allow any link for the downloads etc. to go outside the site’s domain. In other words, because of the way Mambo works (and this is not something that is alterable) whenever the docman system tries to link to a file, even on the site server, it makes an external call – i.e. it tries to go out to the web, to make an http call to get to the right place for the file. Why it does this for even a local file, I don’t know – that’s Mambo for you.

The fact that this method is shit is beside the point for now. The problem is actually with the rackspace config, and not allowing access to the outside world in this manner. This is a standard setting on hosted servers – it would be the same if we were trying to use an ODBC database connection ( i.e. to let the site use the company’s remote database, when it is on a different server)

This problem is NOT something I can fix. I can figure out *why* it’s happening – up to a point – but I can’t fix it. It is a combination of crappy coding on Mambo, and a standard security setting at Rackspace.

I do not have any contacts with Rackspace, and cannot currently start off any problem solving on this level.

At the moment, I can’t create *any* links through the docman module on Mambo, as they *all* use this method.

I’ve done all I can. I’m sorry that it’s not able to work, but I am at the absolute limit of my knowledge, both of Mambo and of Rackspace. If that is unacceptable, the only way to improve my knowledge is a training course on mambo and server admin.

The response from Arsehole Boss was a truly exhilarating piece of motivational speech… (and the spelling mistakes are included verbatim)

As I mentioned what we need here is a solution. This is still not a solution.

This is probably the most critical task the web development team has over the next 24 hours as without fixing this we cannot roll out our release which is critical to ongoing funding for the company.

If you guys are unable to collectively get togeather and find a solution – weather its via mambo or rackspace – the it raises greater concerns as to the ability of the web team to get the job done when in a crunch.

I suggest you guys focus on fixing this and nothing else before the end of monday.

It’s kind of worrying when your Chief Technical Officer (and Lead Developer) apparently doesn’t know the difference between Web developers and System Administrators, isn’t it?


Unexpected Efficiency – Part Two

(Previous post here)

Following on from that post about efficiency vs. bureaucracy, I forgot to say, the necessary documents from Comapnies House arrived the next working day.

And they were the right ones – how’s that for impressive?

But really, isn’t it pretty sad when all you have to do to be impressed with a place is to be dealt with efficiently, to get what you ask for, and get it when they say it’ll arrive?


Water cockup

(via Pete)

Oh, fantastic – a “natural spring” that’s been running for 16 years turns out to be – um – a dripping tap.

Yet a spokeswoman still insisted: “The leaks in the past were spring water, but the spring water seems to have gone and this is a proper leak. It’s just a coincidence. The present leak is not spring water.�

Aye, right.


Movies “Unrealistic”

Well, like duh.

In other news, “Coma specialist makes himself look like a right dickhead“.

(Yes, they both link to the same story. It’s not a mistake)


Bad Day

You know it’s going to be a bad day when you get woken up by the dog, crawling under the bed, because it’s raining hard outside and she thinks it’s going to thunder.

You know for sure it’s going to be a bad day when, walking through the trolley-stoppers (i.e. fairly narrow “one person at a time” walkways) you get run into by three-year-old hellspawn, and then blamed by the mother for walking into the little shit…


Bombs?

I must admit, I really find I have to wonder about someone who plants nailbombs (or replica nailbombs, anyway) in London and then tries to make out it’s “Art”.

I’m sorry, but “It’s Art” doesn’t cut it as an excuse. “I’m sorry, I was being fucking stupid” might do, but “It’s Art” has no chance.


Carphone Whorehouse

Herself has a mobile phone on O2 through Carphone Warehouse – up ’til recently she’s had a Samsung D500, but then about a fortnight ago upgraded to the flashy new one with iMode and 3G stuff on it. All well and good.

However, because it’s a 3G phone, she needs a 3G-capable SIM-card. Not previously having had a 3G-capable phone, the SIM wasn’t a 3G one either. However, the upgrade twunts at Craphone Whorehouse didn’t bother mentioning this. At all. Not once.

Last weekend we spent a good half an hour on the phone to their customer “services” department, explaining six times to six different people that we needed an upgraded SIM card. Oh, we don’t deal with that, I’ll put you through to someone else. Not once did person a explain to person b what the problem was, or why we were calling, or why they were putting us through, so we had to explain it – and go through the ID procedures – six fucking times.

Eventually, I ended up getting through to the right person. Who had to authorise sending out the SIM card with her manager. Supposedly they normally have a cost attached to them, but because this was an upgrade, we wouldn’t have to pay, so she needed the manager to provide a code to reduce the price to zero.

The card arrived last night. I put it in the phone…

“Unregistered SIM”

So today Herself is going to call Craphone Whorehouse (again) and try to get them to register the fucking SIM card that they sent out in the first place, already knowing we’d been stuffed about once. I’m currently not optimistic about getting a resolution to this one just yet…


Motivational Debt?

I’ve just re-found this piece, from the Observer back in February. I’d forgotten about it, until a conversation with Herself last night. There was one section in particular that agreed so much with my general philosophy about mortgages etc…

The usurers in charge have encouraged us all to get in debt by blanket promotion of a spend, spend, spend mentality, with ad slogans like “don’t put it off, put it on!”

Now, from an idler’s point of view, debt is an evil sister to the work ethic. It works as an invisible slave driver, a mill owner of the mind, driving us on to do jobs we don’t like in order to pay usurers the interest on objects we didn’t need.

It is rather like indentured labour. Work for seven years to pay off your debt. Then you will be freed. Debt is enslaving.

The entire piece is so well worth reading. Enjoy.


*Sigh*

Some days you just know life’s going to be bad.

One clue today was when my colleague, another “web programmer” couldn’t even close off links on the display site.

*sigh*


Turns of phrase

Now, what would make someone think I don’t like the code I’ve been working with this week? Some of the quotes from my email, sent out to my boss and the two directors above her, may explain some of it…

However, I would emphatically NOT start doing this ‘til we’ve had a chance to do a proper rewrite of the upload stuff, and are in a situation where we’re confident that it’s stable, working, and doesn’t need a shitload of work every two weeks to sort things out. The current [piece of] code is NOT good enough, and needs to be kicked into the gutter to die quietly once this one is done.

We *can* write a nice stable piece of code for this, that will have all the things we want. We could still end up using [one section of] the old legacy code– I’d rather not, but the way it’s written at the moment it all has hooks all over the place, and is wired in like a suicide bomber: one extra piece, get it wrong, and it all goes kaboom. Mind you, that’s true for the rest of the old stuff too.

The current code is a hack, it’s butt-ugly, and deserves to be locked in the woodshed for ever more, the ugly kid we never want to see again. If we’re going to do this stuff, fine, but let’s at least start from a good place with it, rather than keeping on adding to the shitheap we’ve already got.

Nope, can’t think why they may have thought I didn’t like the stuff…


Asking For It

In today’s “local” news on the BBC, it appears that police are warning drivers not to leave sat-nav units in their cars when unattended. To me, this really isn’t rocket science. Apparently to a lot of people it is.

When I walk anywhere, I tend to notice what’s in cars. I don’t know why – I guess I’m just nosy, really – but I do pay attention. And it’s quite amazing the number of people who do leave expensive stuff out on view when they’ve parked up. Now yes, maybe it is “only for a couple of minutes” – although a lot are at least overnight – but still, you’ve got to be pretty bloody dumb to leave the sat-nav in it’s cradle, with only a window to “protect” it. Same applies for the people who strong leave their phones in their cars, and even their wallets.

All in all, the “don’t leave valuables in the car” message has now been circulating for at least a decade, if not two. As we carry more and more valuable stuff around with us, it would seem sensible to be more aware, but instead people seem to still make use of the “It’ll never happen to me” mentality that drives me utterly bananas.

So far as I’m concerned, if you leave valuable stuff like sat-nav, mobiles, money, cameras etc. visible in the car – and a lot of people do – then you should be prepared to lose it. And of course if you’ve been a numpty and left it there visible, the insurance won’t pay out for it either – in fact, it’s like a tax for idiots. Works for me…


Increasing Weirdity

Sometimes I get spam mails that are just too weird for words. In this case I can’t even see what the catch is – I must be missing something…

Dear Sir/Madam
My name is Mrs. Jenny Brooks, I am a dying woman who have decided to donate what I have to you/ church. I am 59 years old and I was diagnosed for cancer for about 2 years ago, immediately after the death of my husband, who has left me everything he worked for.

I have been touched by God to donate from what I have inherited from my late husband to you for the good work of God, rather than allow my relatives to use my husband hard earned funds ungodly. Please pray that the good Lord forgive me my sins. I have asked God to forgive me and I believe he has because He is a merciful God. I will be going in for an operation in less than one hour.

I decided to WILL/donate the sum of $2,500,000 (two million five hundred thousand dollars) to you for the good work of the lord, and also to help the motherless and less privilege and also for the assistance of the widows.

At the moment I cannot take any telephone calls right now due to the fact that my relatives are around me and my health status. I have adjusted my WILL and my lawyer is aware I have changed my will you and he will arrange the transfer of the funds from my account to you.

I wish you all the best and may the good Lord bless you abundantly, and please use the funds well and always extend the good work to others. Contact my lawyer (Barrister Parker Brown) with this specified email: [dodgy@email.com] and tell him that I have WILLED ($2,500,000.00) to you and I have also notified him that I am WILLING that amount to you for a specific and good work. I know I don?t know you but I have been directed to do this. Thanks and God bless.

NB: I will appreciate your utmost confidentiality in this matter until the task is accomplished as I don’t want anything that will jeopardize my last wish. And Also I will be contacting with you by email as I don’t want my relation or anybody to know because they are always around me.

Regards,

Jenny Brooks (Mrs)

Now, isn’t that just amazingly bizarre?


Is It Me?

On Friday I ordered a new desk (for the refitted office at home) from Argos to be delivered today. OK, I should’ve known better, I realise. But hey, that’s life.

Anyway, I ordered it online, and all was fine. I got a confirmation message on the screen which said something along the lines of “We need to manually verify this order, then we’ll send you a confirmation”. OK, for e-commerce that sucks, but it’s well known that the entire company of Argos has an IQ of 100, and most of that is kept in head office. So OK.

By today, still no confirmation, and it’s supposed to be being delivered today. So I thought I’d ring the useless bastards and check.

First of all we get the “I’ve got to have an order number before I can help you. But I haven’t got an order number, because Argos’ve never given me one. Well I’ve got to have an order number for the system” farce, but eventually we get through that one.

Finally I get to the correct department (“Oh, sorry, there’s two departments that deal with home delivery, and you’ve come through to the wrong one”) and get it confirmed that the desk is on the delivery truck, and will be with us sometime today. Helpful they’re not.

And what’s the excuse when I ask why I haven’t received the order confirmation, despite a) the money having left my account, and b) the order having been processed, and on the truck?

Oh, sorry, the internet’s slow at the moment

Yeah, OK, I’ll fall for that one. Like I came off the carrot truck this morning.

Don’t you just love it when people expect you to know as little as they do?


Irony

While coming home from the gym last night, Herself and I were listening to an obviously-gifted person on the local radio phone-in thing (as you can tell, I listen to it regularly. Oh yes.)

She was requesting Kanye West’s “Golddigger” track to be played, which is fair enough, although to my mind it displays an awesome lack of taste. But anyway. The conversation then went on that she wasn’t looking forward to today, as she’d just split up from her partner of five years, and so Valentine’s Day wasn’t going to be good at all, and instead she’d just go out with a couple of mates and get drunk. Again, OK, not my mindset, but there we go.

The clincher, though, was when one of the presenters asked what kind of person she was looking for as a new partner, and she managed to come up with a reply that basically said “Good looking fit multi-millionaire who’s also able to do basic DIY and so on”. And I couldn’t help but wonder about the irony of wanting the “Golddigger” track while being quite so shallow…


Cynicism

In light of it being Valentine’s Day, and in recognition of all the shit that goes on around it, I’ve decided to keep a count today of all the sad sods wandering around with bouquets of hyper-expensive flowers.

It should be amusing, if nowt else.

Current Count : 3 4 5 6 7 9 10 11.

Oh, and just in case anyone was interested, the header image today is pilfered/adapted from a thing about the St. Valentines Day massacre. Cheers, Google Images…


Personalisation

Sometimes I find it quite amusing to get supposedly “personalised” emails from companys. For example, on occasion I know I’ll never use a site again, but if I have to register in order to make an order, I’ll use a made-up name, and/or email address, just to see whether anyone ever checks these things. Then you can end up with an email to “tosspot@{domain}.com”, and the title in the email reads to “Mr FuckOff YouBastards”, or somesuch. But that’s something for another post…

Today’s example came from Ticketmaster, who have decided that because I’ve bought tickets in the past for Faithless, Henry Rollins, Chris Rea and the V Festival 2006, I might like – are you ready? – Robin Gibb at Blenheim Palace. Yeah, that’s so similar to all my other preferences…


Sexy?

Nice to see that a lot of people have no taste whatsoever.


Weasels

So, today is the deadline for the return of the Self Assessment forms for Tax Year 2004-2005. That’s fine. And if it’s not put in by today, then you’re liable for an extra £100 fine for not sending it in.

OK, all well and good.

Except that, because in my case the Inland Revenue are utter, utter cunts, I didn’t get the return form until Saturday. Which makes the entire thing rather more difficult than it should be. As yet I don’t know whether I’ll get the £100 penalty added in, and then have to protest (again) about it before they’ll do anything. It wouldn’t surprise me.

I know it won’t be a quick process. I’m still in arguments with the incompetent tossbags about the 2003-2004 tax year, which again I didn’t get any return for at all. In fact the only reason I knew I was even being self assessed is because I ended up getting a snotty letter saying “you haven’t returned it, you now owe us £xxxx (I won’t go into the amount, but suffice to say it’s a) bollocks and b) a lot ) Eventually I got a duplicate form, which I returned along with the relevant P60 and all the documentation. Which they’ve then managed to lose.

When the Inland Revenue send out your forms, they work on the assumption that you’ve received them. “We’ve sent them, therefore you must have received them. It’s your fault you haven’t.” is the attitude. However, when you send items to the Inland Revenue, they work on the assumption that they haven’t received them. And guess what? It’s your fault that they haven’t received them. On the BBC news this morning, they had said to take your tax return to the nearest tax office, and get a receipt for it. Only it turns out that the tax offices won’t actually give out receipts. So you can hand in your form to the tax office on time, they can lose it, you won’t have any proof, and guess what? Yep, it’s your fault.

As far as I’m concerned, the Inland Revenue are scumbags of the direst proportions. The ratio of helpful people to cunts seems to be about 1:1000 (and I reckon I’m being optimistic at that level) and at the end of the day they only seem to exist to penalise you when you get things wrong. If all goes according to the plan, you fill in the forms, you tell them what you’ve earned, you tell them what tax you should pay on it, and you pay the tax. So what do the cunts actually do all day?


Secure?

As most people in the UK know, credit and debit cards have been switching over to the “Chip and PIN” system, which is supposedly more secure against credit-card fraud and the like.

On February 14, anyone with a “chip and PIN” card will no longer be able to sign a credit-card slip for their purchases, and must know their PIN number instead.

Anyway, that’s a minor digression. The main thrust is that supposedly “Chip and PIN” is more secure. It’s supposed to stop credit card fraud, and all this bollocks. We’ll ignore the fact that anyone can “shoulder-surf” and get the PIN number. And the fact that the PIN number is the same whether you’re using a cash machine or doing a transaction – which means that if someone gets your PIN number and card (you know, by shoulder-surfing the number in a shop, then grabbing the bag on the way out – that’s just one example, of course) then they can get the maximum cash transaction out like *that* (clicks fingers), which of course renders the card owner liable, as they’re not likely to have called the card company in that couple of minutes and registered the card as stolen. And, of course, the bank will say “Well, you let someone see your PIN number. Therefore you’re in breach of your agreement with us, and thus liable for all losses on that account/card”.

Again, a minor digression there.

My point is this : If “Chip and PIN” is so secure, how come I’ve just seen the following transaction…

“Did you know your PIN number’s locked on this card?” (ie you can’t use the PIN, because you’ve had three goes and failed to get it right)
“Yes, I was trying to use it in the supermarket, and got all flustered with everyone behind me, so I forgot the number, and now it’s locked”
“OK, just sign on the slip here”
“Thanks”
“And there’s your card back”

WHAT? So you can have a locked PIN, which signifies three failed attempts at the number, and instead of cancelling the card, or keeping it, it’s been given back once, then used just on the signature again, and then given back yet again? How the blue blazing fiddly fuck is that a secure transaction?


Strokes of Genius

Today in Bracknell is hovering around the 0°C mark. In other words, pretty much freezing cold.

So one of the people up the road has decided to wash their car. The path is now covered in ice.

Fucking genius. You just couldn’t make it up.


Homeless

Bah HumbugAs some regular readers may recall, around this time last year I did a bundle of photography (and got paid for it!) for a charity in Manchester that worked with the homeless and prostitutes.

This year, my eye was caught by something in one of Herself’s magazines that deals with nursing and care. It was talking about a document called “A Christian Response To Street Homelessness” (I’ve saved a copy on d4d™, it’s an 810Kb PDF if you’re interested) which has a lot of suggestions and ideas, primarily for the London area of Westminster.

The final page of the document is called “Ten tips to help a rough sleeper in Westminster”, and one of the suggestions made me absolutely howl with laughter…

Think about what subjects you might talk about and read up on them – remember that very few rough sleepers have TV sets, so talking about the latest plot of ‘Emmerdale’ might not work.

I mean, how stupid would you have to be?

“So, you’ve been homeless for 8 months, and sleeping on the street?”
“yeah”
“Blimey, that’s rough. So, did you see Emmerdale last night?”


Nom de Plume

While I remember (and thanks to the people who asked) I would like to say once and for all that no, I have not written a book under the names Alan MacArthur or Steve Lowe.

However, if I’d thought of it first, I possibly would have done so.

Sometimes life’s shit, and there’s absolutely knack-all you can do about it.


Lights Out?

Ah, it’s good to see the spirit of Christmas is alive and well in Sonning, Berkshire.

In one private road (very posh, don’t you know?) the majority of the householders are hoping to pay off the houseowner with the glowing Christmas house decorations. This guy collects from this, and then gives to charity – last year he raised £5000 – and now the residents are hoping to pay him off. Which, frankly, sucks.

It’s no secret that I’m no fan of the Festering Season, and that I think the Home Alone-inspired glowing house decorations should all be trashed and burned. But while I dislike/despise them, I don’t try to get people to take the things down. They’re nasty, manky, and cheap – and I’m intrigued by the comment in the story that “Thames Valley Police said more than 40 crimes committed in the area last year were “directly linked” to the lights” – and I despair in general of the people who have this kind of tat and think it’s attractive.

But it’s still beyond me that people would try to pay someone off in order to stop them having this kind of thing on their house. Twats.

Afterthought : Of course, it’s also made me quite tempted to go over later in the year and take some photos, just for the hell of it. I probably won’t , but it’s made me think about it.


Travelling to Disasters

While I can – kind of – empathise with people who are worried about their relatives/ family in situations like the earthquake in Pakistan, I really don’t understand what it is they think they can achieve by travelling out there.

It’s a phenomenon I’ve noticed more recently, and particularly since last year’s Boxing Day tsunami, where the news seemed to cover a lot of people doing this. Yes, sure, some of the people travelling over will have uses (on the news this morning I saw bits about doctors going over with supplies, that kind of thing) but the majority seem to be people saying “We’ve not heard from x, y and z so I’m going over to see if I can find out anything”. Why? Surely it’s best to stay at home, rather than adding to an already disastrous area by going over and getting in the way while looking for one’s family.

Frankly, to my mind I can see better priorities than going over there yourself. But hey, what would I know?


Hep C

The BBC today has been banging on about how Britain is ‘failing’ on Hepatitis C, and failing to diagnose it in the majority of cases.

Now OK, I’m sure I’m just being thick here, but how can a story say something like this?

[the study estimated] 500,000 UK people had the virus, which attacks the liver, but only one in seven knew. Only 1-2% of those with the disease in the UK had been identified and treated with approved drugs, which can cure between 60-80% of those treated, it said.

They estimate 500,000 people may have the virus, but they don’t know. I don’t see how you can come up with such a seemingly arbitrary figure as “we’re only diagnosing 2%” (or 10%, or 20% – the figure doesn’t matter) – because in honesty you have no fucking idea how many people actually carry the virus. That “2% diagnosed” could actually be 50% of the people with the virus – you don’t know, because you haven’t bloody well diagnosed them all.

Short of making it a compulsory test – and that would be too expensive to be feasible, I suspect – the figures are bollocks, and it all comes down to hype.

Or am I missing something relevant?


Despair

For some reason unknown to all but themselves, I’ve recently been getting a lot of contacts from a couple of IT agencies (I won’t name them here, because why should I give them any credit? Instead I shall name them Aldous and Regressive – which should be enough of a clue for any other IT people who read this…) about jobs in Manchester. Now, I told all the agencies I deal with (including Aldous and Regressive) that I had moved – and let’s face it, we’re talking nine months ago here, so you’d think they might have had time to alter their records by now.

Anyway, yesterday I got emails from both companies, despite repeatedly telling them by phone and email that I a) had moved, and b) wasn’t looking for work. You’d think that was fairly blunt, wouldn’t you?

But oh no, not in Regressive’s case. Instead, I got the following reply.

Thanks for the update- where are you now looking for work? Regressive has offices across the Uk and Europe and we would be more than happy to keep you posted about other suitable roles.
Kind regards

Sometimes agencies are just too bloody thick to be believed.


Inducing Fear

A couple of people have commented that it seems pretty dangerous, a slightly irate and easily annoyed person such as myself now having a compound bow, arrows, etc.

I can see their point, to a degree. But let me put it this way : if I were carrying something like that around in public (and, interestingly, carrying a bow in public isn’t actually illegal – it’s certainly not a concealed weapon, and in theory if I’m just carrying it it’s not threatening behaviour either) do you think anyone would be dumb enough to get in my way and piss me off? *grin*

As far as I see it, if there were the distinct possibility of people getting hurt (i.e. my continued suggestions that everyone should be equipped with a stun-gun, and could “reward” foul behaviour or plain unutterable stupidity with a brief dollop of 40,000 volts) then people would behave better. Yes, the training might take a couple of weeks, where inconsiderate fuckwad twats still wandered in front of other people, or behaved like tossers, but once the message got through (roughly the same time as their hair stopped being frizzy, I’d reckon) they’d soon learn. Yeah sure, it’s Pavlovian, but sometimes it seems that might be the only way to teach people.

And no, I’m actually not a proponent of firearms or lethal weaponry in general. It doesn’t solve anything, and doesn’t make a society more law-abiding. Non-lethal concepts, however, now they’ve got potential…


Redistribution of Mortality

I don’t know if it’s just me in this case, but the news about Gordon Brown announcing a plan to increase the number of vaccinations in Africa and potentially “save 10 million lives” raised a question in my mind.

If they’re saving all these lives, given the current conditions in the area, won’t this just be 10 million more people who have the potential to die from starvation/famine, instead of from measles, polio, hepatitis B, tetanus, and diphtheria?

Or am I missing a point somewhere?


One Born Every Minute

Sometimes you just have to wonder about people, don’t you? Today’s Barnum moment comes courtesy of Cornwall’s Trading Standards (although how they got involved, I’m not quite sure) and the story in the BBC today about a letter scam that’s been doing the rounds.

Basically, the letter comes with an enclosed Jack of Spades playing card, and tells the gullible fuckwit, sorry, recipient that they’ve been cursed, and that in order to rescind the curse they need to rip the card into quarters, and send it back to the sender wrapped in a £10 note. Now, duh, I’m sorry but send that to me, the fucker’s going in the bin.

Cursed? By post? Excuse me while I fall off my chair with laughter.

Quite honestly, anyone who does send the card and £10 back bloody well deserves to be fleeced. Call it a stupidity/gullibility tax and be done with it.


Ugly, Ugly, Ugly

I can’t say it enough – this has to be one of the ugliest stereo systems around. I’m currently looking for a replacement system, as my Technics one is officially deader than a very dead thing, but I can be pretty certain that it won’t be this that’s replacing it.