» Expensive Mistakes

TV company high jinks.
Back in the heady days of 1999, a certain media company (whose name is synonymous with British, and broadcasting), were having problems with their access control systems, so that a lot of people could not get into a certain office block in Shepherds Bush (which may be called White City, I could not possibly comment.) Anyhow, track it down to faulty Master and Slave control PCs for the access system, so arrange for 2 brand new top of the range Compaqs to be delivered. Spent the best part of a week transferring databases, software, and users, and checking all the access points work- after all, you don't want to piss off Anne Robinson, do you? Finally finished late hours friday night/ saturday morning, and after a few beers, wend my merry way home ( south coast), and got lift off off colleague.
Cue sunday morning, major panic- all the doors are unlocked, plus side gates, and anyone can get in the car park, Boss screaming "what the hell have you been doing with the system, we will be in so much shit" etc, etc. So I hotfoot it back up there, via Taxi (car is in London already, and this is a rush), and on arrival, call Tech Support head honcho, who is not best happy, he gets on a plane from Manchester to London, and is picked up via Taxi as well.
Check everything, and the head honcho looks at the history of whats been going on, and declares theres a virus on the system. Impossible, its not on the network, theres no modem, they are just peer-to-peer. Nope, theres signs here of it, he declares. So we check in the security guards room, where the slave is, and there we find it in history: Cunt.jpg, Fuck.jpg, etc etc. They had been viewing porn on cds, and had managed to transfer a virus into the system. It cost a couple of grand in our labour (we strung it out!), and about 4 of the guards their jobs.
Sorry about length, and I wish I had Legless' gift for storytelling!
(Sun 28th Oct 2007, 18:19, More)

» Kids

Not ankle biters any more
But today, my youngest thanked me when I took her toast plate from her whilst ensconced watching tv. She said "Thank you" in a very faux posh voice, which I look at her twice for, and asked her what she said, as it sounded like she was saying something very rude to me. She said "No, dad, I said thank you" To which the eldest pipes up "I thought it sounded just like "Fuck you" as well".
Parenting doesn't get any better than this.
(Sun 20th Apr 2008, 21:28, More)

» Have you ever seen a dead body?

Not seen one, was one.
Thought I'd save this till later on in the week, as I can easily count this as the most traumatic things in my life, so read on, dear B3tan.
Back in the nasty winter of 2003, I began to have chest pains, as I managed to live the life of a slob, just going to a nice easy job, slobbing about in the evenings in front of TV or PC, and smoking easily 30 full fat cigarettes a day. Not an enviable lifestyle for remaining healthy really, is it?
Cue the 12th November. I thought I had a chest infection, and had been off work 3 days, and was kind of feeeling ok-ish, watched Alfie Moon save Kat from getting married to some gangster (yes, it was THAT day), and relaxed with a whisky and sat down to watch Johnny English (a film I cannot recommend to anyone).
And then the pain in my chest started, and the feeling sick. Thought it was just a bit of heartburn at first, then I can't stand up, sweating, and the feeling in my chest of what Richard Pryor called "Don't you move, fucker"- basically, someone grabbing in the middle of your chest & twisting. And believe me, it hurts- REALLY hurts.
So an ambulance is called, which eventually turns up. The medic seemed to be a bit dubious of what was wrong with me, asked me first if I'd taken Viagra, to which I quite strongly answered in the negative. He then said "well, we can take you in, but its 10:30 on a friday evening, so its going to be very busy, so are you really sure you are feeling that bad?" Errr- yes, I don't call an ambulance out for a laugh, you know. So they toodle me off to A&E, and advise me its going to be busy, so they'll pop me in resus, which is where my luck started.
I'm popped into said area, and many probes are stuck upon my person, and all seems ok, my kindly nurse asks if I'm still in pain- yes, it is getting worse. Would I like some morphine? Oh yes ta, I'll have a double on the rocks, but hold the olives. She then starts to fill up a syringe to put it in the canula on my left hand, and I say "that acted quick, I feel woozy already"- only she hadn't put it in yet.
She said later I just suddenly flatlined- complete cardiac arrest (myocardial infarction for you medical types out there), and they were immediately defibrillating me to attempt to bring me round. Somehow they also put a drug in me called Retoplase, which clears any blockages (Dyno-Rod for the arteries), and after 3 minutes I started beating again and breathing. What did I feel? I can remember being woozy, and saying so to the nurse. The next thing I remember is that horrible pins and needles all over body feeling you get if you stand up too quick after kneeling down for ages, and waking up to loads of people around me, and feeling embarrased as I had made that snorty noise, which I thought meant I'd fallen asleep, and had woken up with a start.
Shall I answer the inevitable question? No, there was no bright light. No looking down on my body. Nothing. Just that. Sorry, Godly people.
*Insert pun on length here*
(Tue 4th Mar 2008, 7:04, More)

» What was I thinking?

Helping out
A young lady was being hassled by her ex, and he kept breaking into her flat and beating her up, so, as a gentleman of 20 years old, single, etc, I offered my services as a bodyguard, and to give her a room for a while until the ex was found, and locked up for a short while.
So she came and stayed, and as I only had a single bed, I offered it to her, and slept on what passed in my hovel for a couch. On night 2, she heard me tossing & turning (I had finally mastered "Also Sprach Zarathustra" on the springs, and was quite chuffed with myself at this point)(not really, I was totally knackered), and said "for Gods sake, just get in here and snuggle up- I trust you". So I did.
And was a good boy for the whole 2 weeks she was there, even though my raging erection every night digging into her back woke her up, and the odd grasp of a bounteous bosom whilst asleep (ahem) happened, and the odd grasp of a raging erection happened, and snuggling bum cheeks further onto said erection happened- nothing happened.
Claire, I'm sorry, I was stupid & gentlemanly.
(Thu 23rd Sep 2010, 12:20, More)

» This book changed my life

One of the best QOTWs for ages.
Taking up some of the suggestions, and heartened to see Terry Pratchett mentioned so many times. My favourite of his at the moment? Night Watch, sets up an early Vimes, and fills in the gaps in the books- like how Reg Shoe became a zombie.

May I highly recommend for the best war book, Chickenhawk by Robert Mason (ISBN-10: 0143035711 ), a harrowing tale of a helicopter pilot during the Vietnam conflict. Superbly written, I have returned MANY times to this book, just for its sense of swapping back between the cameraderie between the men, and then the sheer bloody futility that they are trying to "make a difference".And yes, it did make a difference in me- I decided when I first read it whilst in 2 Para that I could not shoot a man in the name of the Queen, or some politician, so got out sharpish- 2 months before the Falklands were invaded by Argentina.

Molesworth- I've not seen any mentions so far of this superb piece of writing by Geoffrey Willans, with drawings by the masterful Ronald Searle, an artist who I fervently copied throughout my formative years, as well as Hunt Emerson, who used to draw for NME (when it was good), and then Fiesta (ahem- which was always good, if you catch my drift.) Back to Molesworth- spent my formative years at school going round saying "Chiz", and writing in essays "as any fule no", amongst other sayings, and the only "beak" that got the joke was the best teacher in the school, so used to snort and giggle at the front of the class whilst marking essays if a Molesworth saying popped up, but I used to catch him off guard by letting people copy my work.

Last but not least, Nancy Friday and My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies. Given it by a girlfriend when I was just started going out with her, and was very unadventurous, shall we say. It changed my life as it showed that womens minds were just as dirty, if not more so, than a males mind, and it was ok to try different things, as you could bet your bottom dollar that she had fantasised about it at some time. Bit worrying some of them, mind- especially the one with the gorilla.
No length related jokes toda. Sorry.
(Sat 17th May 2008, 10:01, More)