31st December 2006
I lied
Sorry, I forgot to award this year's OKEs, the Order of Kenneth.
In contrast with the relatively morose post of earlier, I have decided to stay home tonight, and take the piss.
Before I make the awards, I feel a little compelled to reflect on last year's recipients.
Natasha "Kenny" Kaplinski OKE has not lived up to her potential. Instead, arise Lady K K Silverton. You are truly to be admired. Anyone who chooses to go to Iraq on Xmas Eve in the name of making every red-blooded man lust after her, has to be adored of sound character, and therefore worthy of the OKE. And those glasses get me every time. Mmmm.
Freddy Kenny Flintoff let us down too. I cannot even type how abysmal the England cricket squad were. The honour has to be transfered to the mad turban, Monte Kenneth Panesar. If ever there was a God, Monte is one to be appreciated for his humour and his ability.
Dame Ken (aka Sarah Campbell) has done wonderfully. She managed a couple of good news "bags". She keeps her OKE.
CD of the year has to be Charlotte Martin's Stromata. Kate Bush can keep hers because I have longed worshipped her. Charlotte may be my next big musical love. She has mesmorized me by her piano skills to the point I actually want to start playing again (Sam, you might make some cash from my uselessness). Stay tuned. God awful pun that.
What can I say about sport? Well last year's comment was about on the spot:
For being the most arrogant tosser in British football, the next OKE goes to Jose Kenny Arsehole Mourinho. Arise Gitface. Don't let that sniper shoot you on the way out.
More OKEs tomorrow, once I have recovered from a night of Die Fuhrer moaning at my lack of survival skills.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 17:35 GMT, by Kenny
So long 2006 and thanks for nowt
Apologies for the "bug up my butt" post of yesterday, but this time of year doesn't make me the jovial Kenny of yesteryear. I used to be the picture of energy at this time, but sadly 'tis no more. In fact, the only redeeming feature of ce moment is that Utd are top of the league by six points.
I'm still in three minds as to what to do tonight. Do I go to the fancy dress (optional) party chez M&D? Do I go to th'Oddies? Or, do I just stay home? I'm thinking the latter.
I got a text at some point over the last twelve hours from what I presume was Nski (right area code but the US cell phone people seem to think that "1" is a recognisable international dial code), asking about the composer of a song that we used to listen to. Shame how the song has long since meandered from her mind. I could be doing her a disservice by saying that she was probably doing a quiz somewhere; she may well have been lamenting as I have been.
I hate spilling guts on here but it's so third person that I do manage it on occasion. It's silly that this time of year brings you around to life-assessing thoughts, but it does.
My first and foremost resolution is that next year, one way or the other, I will be reunited with Nski. You have no idea how much of a void that woman has left in my life. I thought I had been stripped of soul after I was made redundant in the US. Erm, no. That was about a quarter of it. The rest has been wrenched out by not being with Nski. It's nearly two years since we last saw each other, and the drain of not having her around or in regular communication is like the vicious yet inevitable cycle of water going down a plug-hole: you can fight it, but without external forces, ultimately you're going down.
And then there's the kids. What can you say? Sam apparently hates me for letting them down. Little does the girl know of what happens backstage and what I tried to do to counter it (I'm talking hours of overnight conference calls with VC people and lawyers). Memories of Zoe pushing my glasses up my nose literally bring me to tears. Nico will be a big lad yet he has the kindness and compassion that Zoe has. He'll be a heartbreaker, just like his mother.
And with that, I'll bid you and this pox-ridden year farewell. That was my last self-indulgent post for a while. I do it for the record; the whole reason I started this in the first place was to document what was going on for my daughter here for future years -- along the way, as usual, I got side-tracked into all sorts of other rants.
Have a safe evening (lay off the egg-nog) and we'll see you when spirits have lifted tomorrow morning. Rest assured, wherever I end up, spirits will be lifted this evening, metaphorically and physically. Normal service of banal claptrap will resume tomorrow.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 13:05 GMT, by Kenny
30th December 2006
A rant in however many parts it takes me
Okay, phones are for communication; I get that. They do not give you the right to call me and then guilt me when I scream down them that I am sick of them, or if I decide to not answer. Earlier in the year, my phone was going so much, I stopped answering it completely and ended up with the local constabulary breaking my door down, at a cost of £600 to me. People, give a reclusive a break. I may be down, but I'll be the first to call the Samaritans if I need them. Thanks. Incidentally, I had their number before you did. You see, I'm not quite as loony as you think.
And you know what, I don't care if your feckin' cat has died. Or your teenage daughter needs maths tuition or guidance. If I feel like it, I will answer your call; if not, tough.
Stage 2: I thought I was being smart by going out for cash this afternoon prior to the complete disarming of the UK economy that transpires because there's two friggin' days holiday. Only I cannot be as smart as I thought. Every other bugger had the same idea. Even those gits who have machines that charge you for the withdrawal of your own money had run out of cash. I found one in a six mile stretch that was working. And I was doing this on a bus between cash points. Grrr.
Stage three: It is, indeed, a bittersweet symphony. During my bus journies, I happened upon two conflicting situations. The first was a drunken bunch of teenagers who were so obnoxious, I actually had to step in and throw some metaphorical muscle behind the bus-driver. It was disgusting behavior. These over-privileged little oiks should have been birched. The contrast was two mid-twenties girls who were speaking an unknown language (it wasn't Slavic or a Western European language that I know, so I'm guessing it was probably Romanian). At first I found their banter entertaining while I searched for words, and then I found it irritating because I couldn't find any. Anyway, as they left the bus, they each turned to the driver, and in a beautifully clear yet obviously foreign accent, said the driver "Thankyou sir." I beamed at them.
Stage 4: That little observance got me to thinking about migration. Just like these girls were obviously making our country a better place to live by being decent, so are my intentions in the US. I am more than qualified. Sorry to the US guys but your BSc's are worth shit compared to ours. According to a couple of schools I contacted in the US, my BSc in maths is worth at least a MSc. But oh no, kith, kin, skills and a belief in the country count for squat. It's more complicated than that now but it wasn't when I had to leave.
Stage 5: return to 1. The phone has just rung again and I am away to rip someone's head off.
PS -- No advice on "silent" please...I hate that just as much.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 18:47 GMT, by Kenny
29th December 2006
Things I didn't know
The BBC has delightfully provided us with a list of 100 things we didn't know this time last year. These are my favorites:
The term "misfeasance" means to carry out a legal act illegally. Now I know some of you are lawyers. I cannot get my head around the logic behind this. Could you please give me an example of how one might accomplish this without disappearing in a puff of logic?
Hexakosioihexekontahexaphobiacs is the term for people who fear the number 666. That must rival the railway station in Wales for the longest word ever!
In a fight between a polar bear and a lion, the polar bear would win. This interests me only because the lads at work are in a constant email battle as to what would beat a honey-badger in a fight. Sounds like your average polar bear is a good bet. I'll put good money on that now. And rest assured, I will be citing this is an email upon my return to work.
Just one cow gives off enough harmful methane gas in a single day to fill around 400 litre bottles. Only one thing to do then isn't there, if we are to save the world -- eat the bastards.
Sex workers in Roman times charged the equivalent price of eight glasses of red wine. That means their net present value has fallen by a few groats over the millenia.
And finally one of my own which I was informed of the other night in th'Oddies, and which I mention only to educate those of my age or younger. There were four farthings to a penny in old money (pre-decimalization). How ridiculous is that?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 11:39 GMT, by Kenny
28th December 2006
Sometimes I hate my mind...
I've just been out with the dog. As usual, she started sniffing around prior to poopage, and I got to thinking "why do they do that?" seeing that they never do the deed on the spot that they last sniffed (there is a dog-length twixt last sniff point and poopage).
And then it dawned on me -- dogs can't exactly take a newspaper out with them, so they find something interesting to sniff while in action.
All of nature is that much more obvious to me now.
I know. I'll get mi' coat.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 15:27 GMT, by Kenny
No 10 is open
Check out probably the second most powerful house in the world.
It looks just a tad posher than th'Oddies.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 13:00 GMT, by Kenny
Winter?
There is still a single flower on the fuschia bush outside. On December 28th...unbelievable.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:53 GMT, by Kenny
27th December 2006
Politcal machinations
Are available for your delight and delectation over at Stan's. I started off thinking about the G8 but it kind of got warped into how a few men shape the future of millions of us. They're not all evil scumbags but some of them are, and what we do with them in the name of justice is not an easy question. There's black, a white flag and somewhere green for the greater good.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 13:15 GMT, by Kenny
Over!
Thank God for that -- no more worrying about presents. Now the cost be can assessed. I'm dreading looking at my bank account.
Anyway, you can tell you're getting older by the types of gifts you receive. Jumpers, socks and toiletries abound. But I did get the third series of Murphy's Law on DVD so that was me set last night. I went to bed at 7:00 and watched three of the six episodes before disappearing into a coma for near enough twelve hours.
Today, I plan on getting my glasses fixed and then spending an afternoon in the Hare and Hounds with a couple of good friends, one of whom has had a shocking run of luck over the last two months.
I tell ya what; let's leave it for at least another twelve months before we do this again.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 11:18 GMT, by Kenny
25th December 2006
Merry Christmas
I want to be in Iraq or Illinois. One contains my not-so-secret vice, Kate Silverton. The other Nski.
As Nski said "it's been a long december and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last."
When I read that, I got the reference immediately. I knew exactly what she was thinking when she wrote it. And I hope she's right. In analyzing this last year, I can quite explicitly state it has been just a bit pants. I haven't documented the one occurence that threw me for a loop more than anything, and I won't ever do so -- it was monumentally humiliating. Being the kind of enlightened individual I am, I recognise that you make your own luck, and I have been remarkably remiss in being instrumental in my own success, something I need to keep an eye on in the new year. Another way of looking at it is that I need to start playing more offensive chess rather than guarding squares.
And with that, I will block out the grey that has enveloped the UK for days, hop in a bath and go play happy families here. My (heavy) heart and mind are about 3500 miles South West though.
On a positive note, I have met some great people as well as the quite obviously mad. I think it's fair to say that Stan and I are on the same wavelength (and that we will stay in touch for as long as we walk and talk); also that GSP is a foil to my mine and Stan's neutrality. Then there's the list of the St A's crossie posse -- DS, RH, MB -- may as well add L and S on there. And F in Leeds, another kindred spirit.
I hope you all have a good one. And I hope there's an alternative to turkey chez Mater and Pater, 'cos I bloody hate turkey. ;)
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 11:11 GMT, by Kenny
24th December 2006
I so rock at Xmas shopping, not
The only thing that worked out yesterday was the Fuhrer's shopping trolley. The rest didn't pan out as I expected it to. A couple of sociable drinkies and the onset of curry cravings have left me short of a paternal gift and wrapping paper. So now I must away to complete my shopping. On a Sunday. With limited bus services. This S-U-C-K-S.
Oh, and the lens fell out of my glasses so I am operating on shades until Wednesday. Bugger.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 10:13 GMT, by Kenny
23rd December 2006
Ack
ACK-NACK
Two days until Christmas and I have yet to do any Christmas shopping. That gives me about 5 hours to find 6 presents. I hope my bro' and Clare don't read this prior to Monday.
Fuhrer: Undecided on either a shopping trolley or debting myself with a new sofa. If I go for the latter, I might need a medicinal brandy before I commit.
Mater: Dunno at all.
Pater: Used to be that a bottle of booze and 40 cigs worked. Nowadays he drinks cheap Chilean wine and has given up smoking. So I am baffled. A CD? DVD? God knows.
GY: Easy to please so a copy of yesterday's Guardian would make her day. Never the less, something with a lilac basis always pleases.
The Flip-flop: What do you buy for a DINKY (for just a bit)? Answer: something daft.
Kidder: Cognac.
And with that, I need to switch off Charlotte and get the hell on with it.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 12:07 GMT, by Kenny
20th December 2006
Oh so PC
Get this.
AQUART COMPANY requires the qualified sales managers, capable to work on a constant basis. Girls are preferable (till 30 years old) Requirements: good knowledge of market, PC, spoken English. Computer and internet are necessary.
Might as well have said "Good looking chicks required to flog crap goods."
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 15:00 GMT, by Kenny
At last...
Good to see, at last.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 14:50 GMT, by Kenny
Interesting yet way too geeky
ZFS from Sun will give us a 128-bit file system.
Remember the (not so long ago) days when you realised that a 32-bit OS could only really cope with 2GB of addressable memory? And the awe of a 64-bit OS that could cope with shit-loads more?
Enter the realm of the unimaginable.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 12:17 GMT, by Kenny
The morning after
Wow, our "team breaking up" do was messy. As far as I can remember, we frequented (in order) the Palace, Little Tokyo, the Slug and Lettuce, Nu, Jake's Bar and the Blue Leopard. At this point it became a little fuzzy.
I think the last things I remember are buying a round of very expensive drinks in the Blue Leopard only to find out that the rest of the buggers had done a bunk, and then realising I was locked out of my hotel room in my underwear with a desperate requirement for a convenience and the world's slowest lift. Not a situation I ever want to be in again.
Man, I'm a class act. Still, at least I made into work in a timely fashion. 10:45 and there are still people AWOL.
Documentary evidence with the face fuzzified to protect the guilty:
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 10:43 GMT, by Kenny
19th December 2006
'Twas the week before Christmas
Probably everyone has this problem at the moment; the trade off between work do's, work, shopping and the rest of the sH1t that needs to be done.
If you have finished your shopping, I hate you. Don't take it personally but I really do.
Let me explain how bloody painful today has been:
05:30 -- Arise from pit.
05:31 -- Put on kettle.
05:32 -- Eat massive bowl of fruit.
05:45 -- Drink tea, smoke cigarette.
06:00 -- Hit bath.
06:15 -- Pack overnight bag.
06:25 -- Leave house for train.
06:50 -- Have info shouted over platform stating that train has been cancelled.
07:00 -- Get bus into Wigan. (£2.00)
07:15 -- Get return to Manchester. (£6.45)
07:45 -- Arrive Salford Crescent.
07:55 -- Depart for Victoria.
08:05 -- Arrive Victoria, cab to Picadilly. (£5.00)
08:25 -- Arrive Picadilly.
08:41 -- Depart for Leeds. (£33.00)
09:50 -- Arrive at work.
After work, I have my "team" do to attend and have had to book a hotel (£43.00)
Tomorrow, it's work and then back to Wigan. Thursday morning means departure to Bristol, returning Friday.
Then I can start my shopping.
Remind me to tell you about a food-regime that is even more bizarre than being Vegan. Trust me, you will not believe it -- I'd rate watching an episode of Coronation St with Pink Floyd's The Wall as accompiment as being more sane.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Tue 13:55 GMT, by Kenny
17th December 2006
Once in a lifetime offer
Okay UK peeps, does anyone have a Sony PS2 they don't want any more? I will pay you a reasonable amount in your GB poundage for said artefact and its postage to the People's Republic of Bryn. In addition to receiving moolar from yours truly (trust me, that is rare unless you sell Silk Cut Silver or Stella Artois), you can photocopy the cheque and practice forging my signature. You never know -- such skill may allow you to blag a pie on tic at one of Wigan's more celubrious pie-factories.
I have to boogie for an hour or so. At some point last night I made a deal with Die Fuhrer that I would do the hoovering in return for some schnitzel for lunch purposes. She is actually holding me to that deal. I will away to don my apron in true Freddy Mercury fashion, and shall belt out I Want to Break Free as I glide around the living room in a manifestly camp fashion.
I know. Too much information.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 12:20 GMT, by Kenny
15th December 2006
Da Missus comes up trumps again
Check out Charlotte Martin. It's like Tori on steroids. Come payday, her ass album is mine.
I'm a sucker for good looking girl who can play a piano. And a good voice. Thanks Nski.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 20:00 GMT, by Kenny
Murder on my mind
Some fiendishly evil git (Die Fuhrer), has bought me a desk for Christmas. I am trying to assemble it. It's at times like this when I need Nski around. She can do this sort of thing. I cannot.
I may be back later with either (a) a picture of said desk or (b) a picture of ashes of said piece of junk.
I have blisters for God's sake.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 15:08 GMT, by Kenny
Doff of the cap
Is this the only man to have beaten my antics at the 1993 work Christmas party?
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 11:27 GMT, by Kenny
14th December 2006
Attention world
Well some of you anyway
I am about to do some fiddling with permalinks, so don't cry if they don't work for a while.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:29 GMT, by Kenny
Fox steps up - does not disappoint
Ever quick off the mark to get the "local-interest" angle into a story that might sell some ad-space, Fox have come up with the ultimate in tenuous links:
'Ipswich Ripper' Prostitute Murder Investigators Eye Atlantic City Cases for Possible Link.
I kid ye not.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 11:05 GMT, by Kenny
Quiet times
Well kind of. It's quiet before Christmas at the old "paper clip factory" (thank you Supervisor) so I have taken a couple of days off to chill out.
I've done a bit of coding on my home-brewed blogging software. I hate modifying existing code -- at one point, I got so annoyed with the software I had written that I thought about completely re-writing the user interface bit but leaving the core database engine as is. But that sounds like hard work, and I would probably end up using UML (spit) to develop use cases etc. That would inevitably lead to a level of introspection unsurpassed since Howard Hughes' great Introspectathon and cause a recursive loop of up-your-arsed'ness that would eventually provoke fusion at room temperature, and the end of the world as we know it. So for the sake of the world, I have spared the code. It does what it's meant to, and I have extended it to do what I wanted to. No harm, no foul.
I've scoured the news for suitable stories to belittle and have come up with nothing so far. How bad is that? Admittedly, I haven't checked the US press yet, so there is hope.
Sadly, the UK media has plenty of serious news to report. Five girls dead. You notice I say girls and not prostitutes? They may have been in a questionable trade, but ultimately, they were girls. To constantly characterize them as sex-workers and/or heroin addicts robs them of any dignity, even in death; Lord knows, they were robbed of it in life.
I must have my token pop at the US media, famed for its coverage of international news:
It must be grizzly, even CNN had the story of the murders in Ipswich yesterday. In the usual fashion, there was a pop-up fact box detailing US serial killers (Son of Sam, Bundy, that bloke in WA etc) and then a silhouette with a question mark to mark Ipswich. History in America apparently does not cover the Shipmans (248 victims and counting), Bradys or Sutcliffes of this world. Surely a quick google might help. Maybe it hit their radar because the killings were all in quick succession; makes for a good "breaking headlines" ticker screen and serious looking reporters situated at the sites of previous crimes (kind of like the Washington sniper coverage)...a nation sat waiting for the next shooting and/or the capture of the perp(s) in between adverts for Diet Coke and aerosol cheese.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not being anti-American at all. I'm being anti-American media. CNN are actually the best of a bad bunch. If I could ever stomach watching or reading Fox news, I would probably implode with indignation. Oh go on then, when I am finished here I will head over there to see how bad it is.
And then I'll get back to looking for columns on which to pour buckets of scorn.
Later.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Thu 10:33 GMT, by Kenny
13th December 2006
Those crazy Yanks
I love it. The US media will do anything to get a good Royal story. This is brilliant in its complete irrelevance:
U.S. agency: We did not target Princess Diana.
This is kind of like our little "news" journal that we had to write every Monday morning at junior school. Everyone else used to write what they had done over the weekend. My brother used to write about what he hadn't done. I have long suspected this "news" exercise was a process for assessing parenting skills rather than a method of teaching/practising language skills.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 15:57 GMT, by Kenny
Thanks Stan
My first Christmas pressie...
I can breathe easier. Well I would be able to were I not a chronic smoker.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 14:57 GMT, by Kenny
11th December 2006
Kenny -- il n'est pas Vert
Stan has inadvertently sent me into a tailspin of guilt. I thought I was being a good eco-friendly citizen of the planet by using public transport. I am not. My share of the journey from Bryn to Leeds return over the course of a year works out as:
Still were I to drive it in a mid-sized car, I would be belting out 7.9 tonnes of C02.
Try it yourself and then go and hug a hoodie. You'll feel better. I promise.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 12:29 GMT, by Kenny
PC tips the brink
We may have to find a new word.
You have to be having a laugh.
Oh, and yet another thing we are told to be worried about. Even those of us who are thin may be fat (TOFI for our acronym-crazy pals -- Thin Outside Fat Inside).
Prizes for the best word that hails the new era of fuzzy-wuzzy mentalness.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 11:17 GMT, by Kenny
10th December 2006
Cooking on a Sunday afternoon
I don't know why, but I have stopped attending the parental Sunday lunches over the past couple of months. Maybe it's just that I need some me-time (not in that way you filthy perverts) or maybe I tire of the same old banter every week. I might be being a tad harsh here, but it's like Christmas every Sunday except without the full year's news to impart. To give you an idea of how it goes:
Maternal Parental Unit (MPU): "You look thin."
K: "You always say that. How's about you concentrate on the road rather than peering at me with that disapproving stare?"
MPU: "K, you are so antisocial and rude."
K: "Rude is commenting on someone else's appearance. I never comment on yours. Antisocial is not speaking at all. I do grunt on occasions."
[...sirens from in front and blue lights...]
K: "Shouldn't you be pulling over to the side to let the ambulance through. In fact scratch the question, you should be so do it."
MPU: "You cheeky bugger. He had loads of room."
K: "I could put it either of two ways. One, it's the law. And two, who says there was enough room. If you took your test again, you would fail."
[silence]
[arrival at PU's abode]
PPU: "Now then? Watched the footie?"
[discussion on footie, cricket etc]
[food eaten]
MPU: "Oh, you've not eaten very much."
K: "No, I suppose a half chicken, leeks, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, cauliflower, carrots and gravy, followed by two pieces of cake with cream is a bit pawltry. I really should see a doctor about my anorexia."
MPU: "Do you want some more?"
K: "I'll get the dictionary. Look up sarcasm."
[ten minutes mindless twaddle ensues while K tries to find something to watch that is obnoxious enough to drive out anyone else but is viewable]
MPU (entering stage right): "Are you ready for something to eat?"
K (exploding center stage): "We only ate 10 minutes ago. It's no wonder we're getting to be the fattest in Europe. Jesus H."
MPU: "Okay, well do you want a chocolate then?"
K: "I do not snack. It's an infernally irritating habit in people who live to eat, and then die because of it."
MPU and Fuhrer [in tandem]: "Well you should cut down smoking and drinking then. You might have an appetite."
K: "Did you say something? Sorry Rooney just scored -- did you see that? Poetry in bloody motion. Hey Pater, get in here..."
You can see where all this is going.
That is why I cannot go there anymore. I will go at Christmas but will be leaving for the local pub as soon as is humanly possible. It used to be a comforting environment but it isn't any more. It's comments about me, questions about Nski and the kids that I cannot answer and gossip about how wonderful/utterly ghastly someone else's lives are at the moment.
So I have decided to stay home and cook my own lunch today. I hate cooking, but it's the worst of two evils.
God, I miss my Sundays with Nski and the kids.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 13:26 GMT, by Kenny
Get in
I repeat get in. A Trophy caravan.
And it's a three birth-er, so when my fellow travelling man mates come around and have had too much anti-freeze to drink, they can stay over.
I'm in love with it. Roll over Silverton and that Linux gadget -- this is the real thing.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 12:26 GMT, by Kenny
9th December 2006
Diana and her demise
The BBC report that the driver of the vehicle in which our beloved (sic) Diana and Dodo, or Dodi or whatever his name was, were killed was officially drunk.
Two things spring out at me from this article.
First, three times over the limit in France is what one (pronounced "wan") could only achieve if one had downed three litre-bottles of Jack Daniel's prior to a single cornflake for breakfast, so the guy must have been hammered.
Secondly, this caught my eye:
Meanwhile, a poll for the BBC suggests that more than three in 10 people in the UK do not believe it was [an accident].
As I read that I thought "don't three in ten people or more in the UK buy tabloid newspapers?". QED.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 12:02 GMT, by Kenny
8th December 2006
Brucey Bonus!
And for your Brucey bonus, I have found the most cushy job ever. It's being a Customer Services Assistant at Manchester Picadilly situated between platforms 13 and 14. I have used those platforms for most of my adult life and never noticed it before today. No-one ever has cause to pass the office, and if they did, it is well disguised to look nothing like its function. You could sit there for hours with cigs and brews, watching daytime TV. Or you could just stay at home, do the same thing and claim your wages every week.
Let me hit their website and see if the chap is due for retiring anytime soon...
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 16:37 GMT, by Kenny
Oh to be a Gypsy now that Xmas is here
Our office is in a once less than celubrious part of Leeds. When I lived in Leeds 10+ years ago, it was a case of lock your doors upon entering, don't stop for red traffic signals and if possible travel thirty miles out of your way to avoid it. According to co-crossword posse member, F, five years ago, they started renovating the place. Some of the old brewery buildings were transformed into offices (one of which we inhabit). The old whatevers were demolished and now there sits sparkly new offices and flats with more of each going up as we speak.
We're situated right by the river in Leeds. I mention this only to say that if one more person spits into it, let alone it rains again, we will all be snorkling to work from the city center.
Anyway, next door to our office, within spitting distance as it were, is what used to be an old chemical factory. It is a sizeable chunk of land, and since it was demolished (over 18 months ago), it has laid dormant and acting as a place for its owner to keep his collection of bricks (ie the remnants of the what was formerly the chemical factory). Nothing has been done to it. Completely derelict.
Actually, I lie. A couple of savvy looking blokes came once with yellow hard-helmets and reflective jackets. Oh, and steel toe-capped boots -- mustn't forget those. They pointed at the pile of bricks (easily) 30 feet tall, nodded sagely and disappeared, never to be seen again. That was about 12 months ago.
A couple of weeks ago, me and the lads in the office were outside on the balcony having a small smokelet break, when two caravans appeared on the site, towed by what looked like proper builders' trucks. Imagine our delight.
A couple of hours after that, three more arrived; two towed by similarly builder-y vehicles, and one by a very spanky Mercedes. We started to doubt these were builders. Not a hard hat or a reflective jacket to be seen.
A couple of hours after that, the police arrived.
Yup. Gypsies.
They have caused us endless amusement. They work hard building and stoking multiple fires that give off the most acrid black smoke imaginable. The brick pile appears to be dwindling thanks to their side-business of block paving driveways. The women-folk (is that what you call them if you're "in the know"?) wear knee length smart skirts, which I really cannot get my head around.
The questions that spring to mind are:
-- Why do the women wear very impractical clothing (I guess that might not apply just to gypsies)?
-- How do they afford Mercedes cars?
-- Are the cars taxed and insured?
-- What do they do for water? I originally asked that of someone while thinking about a brew in the morning; they quite rightly pointed out that there was the small issue of bathing too.
-- What do they do for TV and internet access? Have they cracked our wireless connection?
I am fascinated by this nomadic tax-free lifestyle. If I get satisfactory answers to the above questions, I may well adopt the tax free, care-free life and buy myself a caravan for Christmas.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 16:33 GMT, by Kenny
6th December 2006
Withdrawal
Where is Kate Silverton at the moment? It has been eight days since she graced our screens. Mornings are horrendous without a Kate fix.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Wed 06:11 GMT, by Kenny
4th December 2006
West Coast mainline
I wish I had mainlined it all the way down here. I have no idea what mainlining is, but I have heard it being used in association with heavy drug use, which would have been far more tolerable than my journey down here this morning.
Crewe - an hour late. Rugby - 80 minutes late. Watford - 90 minutes late. Equals Kenny - 2 hours late. I barely got here in time for lunch.
And to add to the horror of it all, L no longer works at the Horn. Also, R (which I am now going to insist is short for Rat) buggers off at the end of the week. Stan is in deepest, darkest Staffs. It truly is the end of an era.
I now have an evening of crying into my beer as I attempt the Independent crossword, having hammered the Telegraph and Times, with the help of the Rat.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Mon 16:47 GMT, by Kenny
3rd December 2006
Middling to sh*te
That's how I answer "How are you?" nowadays. Better than lying innit?
Sundays are pretty much the only quality alone time I get so I indulge myself with blog reading, blog writing, and biscuits. Lots of biscuits. Not the US meaning. I mean cookies...with loads of butter and heaps of chocolate. It's a bit of a sick day really because, being a smoker, you tend to favour savoury foods rather than sweet foods, so you end up smoking twice as much as you would normally to get rid of the sickly sweet taste. Okay, non-smokers won't get it, but hopefully someone will understand the daft logic behind that.
Anyway, my sugar levels are at maximum thanks to some Marks and Sparks chocolate shortcake.
It's been a strange old week. To be honest, not one I would wish to repeat. There have been some ultra-highs and some mega-lows (like that? Megalo...ah, never mind).
There's an awful lot I want to write about at the moment but I'm a tad constrained. For the most part it's so as to not incur the wrath of a couple of people, and for the rest to protect my dignity. A couple of months ago, I had a very, very nasty shock. Someone I trusted implicitly (because I'm daft like that) acted so way out of what I perceived was their character that I ended up back at the quack's, begging for some mind-altering drugs. I have all sorts of theories as to why they did what they did, and all sorts of suspicions as to some seriously dodgy acts that they may have committed, but that is not mine to worry about. At least, it shouldn't be, and I really should stop analyzing it. The reason that I mention this is because I will have occasion to be in their vicinity tomorrow and it troubles me greatly.
Another kind of downer is my relationship with my mate B, which I have documented over at Stan's. What started off as a friendship now seems to be deteriorating into a dependecy on her behalf. I now feel like I am the final straw that supports the camel. I have empathy for my fellow beings but when all they can do is call you and sigh/gasp about how awful things are without trying to do anything to help themselves, I have to hold my hands up high and scream.
Imagine a scream just about now.
A high/low combo comes in the news that I have spoken to Nski for the first time in quite a while. The low is that she doesn't sound like she wants to move here any time soon. The "high" being that I realised how much I miss her. She is a sublime woman...probably not good for anyone's sanity, but utterly addictive. Those of you who remember her blog will agree. I wish she'd give me permission to make it available again. At least I have the guilty pleasure of being able to re-read it even if you lot are deprived.
The one real blood-rushingly high moment this week came in an email that I cannot document, which is a shame as I would sound more positive than this reads. Sorry to be so elusive, but even though I have anonymized this as much as I can, the walls have ears.
Look out for a tack shift, from "Middling to sh*te" to "Top-notch". All I need is for Nski to have a little earthquake and we're back to being Kenny again.
Oh, and I need a raincoat. 'Cos you know it always rains in Baltimore. Ten points for the reference!
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sun 13:39 GMT, by Kenny
2nd December 2006
Question
Alright fellow peeps of a geeky persuasion, I now have Ubuntu 6.0.6 on a CD and have booted from it successfully. It appears to boot fine but takes an age to do anything. My question is, is this because it's coming of CD and using the local file system (non-native NTFS) as swap space? Will it be any quicker when it is installed on the HDD? My home laptop isn't over spec'd -- I got it when I first came back from the US and was completely broke -- 2GHz P4, 128MB RAM, 40GB HDD.
Now, when I ran Redhat in the US, my server was a 533MHz HP with 128MB of RAM, and that flew. In fact it was faster than Da Missus's Dell with a 1.8GHz processor and 512MB RAM.
Answers on a postcard, or in the comments please. Before I install it for general purpose use, I need to be sure it will be usable. Ta!
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Sat 11:07 GMT, by Kenny
1st December 2006
Nanny state alert
We now know the date when smokers become even more ostracised in England. As of July 1st next year, smoking will no longer be allowed in public places. Only the great outdoors and the privacy of your own home will be available to those of us who actually enjoy a smoke.
The bit of the article that really guiled me was this:
Ms Hewitt said the ban would protect everyone from second-hand smoke, while making it easier for smokers to quit.
How will it make it easier for smokers to quit? While the moonbats discuss giving heroin on prescription to alleviate the problem, a legal drug that virtually funds the NHS is effectively being banned. Talk about two-faced?
For you US smokers, you will be astonished to find that a pack of 20 cigarettes in the UK costs of the order of £5.50 (roughly $9.50). Of course, most of that is tax. This money pretty much funds the healthcare system here, together with excise duty on alcohol. Those of us that fund it are being slowly but surely driven out of society, but hey, keep paying the national bills.
I am sick to the back teeth of this country. It's pathetic protectionism borders on the neurotic. I have never voted Tory (surprise to some) but next election, I probably will; their stance on non-invasive government will sway me more than anything else.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 12:03 GMT, by Kenny
FF8282
If this guy can be stripped of his MBE, why can't FF8282, otherwise known as Jeffrey Archer be stripped of his?
I have long loathed this maggot. I read Kane and Abel for the first time when I was about 13. Other than a juvenile obsession with the sex tales, I found the writing about as dull as the Manchester Ship Canal on a foggy day in November. I have not read anything he has written since. I'll stick to my beat generation thanks; they had plenty more to say, and did it way more eloquently.
Stan might find my loathing of FF8282 quite surprising, but then again, I bet he hasn't read any of the piffle that said feckwit has written.
Comments (), Permalink, Posted: Fri 11:02 GMT, by Kenny