Starting Over

Yippee-do! I shall be starting work again on Monday, at HSA in Andover - just 7 (ish) short months after I left there - this time as a permanent employee, rather than a contractor.

That is all.

West Country Accent 2

How do!

I've been cast as 'Oracle DBA' in my good friend Mike's team of Oracle gurus at Simplyhealth in Andover.

That is all.

Sorry to be so brief!

West Country Accent

How do!

I've been cast as 'John' in Ottershaw Players' production of Blue Remembered Hills, by the fabulous (but sadly dead) Dennis Potter.

That is all.

Sorry to be so brief!

Omegle - On The Buses

More fun and high-jinks messing about on Omegle.

Connecting to server...

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: Any more fares please? Where to?

Stranger: hi

You: Any more fares please? Where to?

Stranger: what are you talking about that?

You: Hurry up please. If you get on the bus you must have the correct change ready.

Stranger: are you crazy?

You: I must be, to still be doing this job after 23 years.

You: Where to, guv?

Stranger: ha..

Stranger: texas

You: OK. That's £13,529.52 full fare.

Stranger: ok. here

You: Huh?

You: Are you paying or not?

You: I've got other passenger waiting to board you know.

You: If you've got an Oyster card you can use that.

Stranger: ok. here

You: Erm. Right. Hey, Sid - we've got a right one here!

Stranger: Let's start

You: Start what? I can't leave the stand until you've paid.

Stranger: I've paid

You: Oh. Why didn't you say?

You: Well, go and sit down then.

Stranger: yes

You: Not there - that's for handicapped people.

Stranger: oh sorry

You: Or Disableds, I think you have to say nowadays.

You: OK. Hold very tight please.

You: Off we go.

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Omegle - Talk To Stranglers

Hi there.

So I recently found this odd little site called Omegle. It's like a chat interface, but you are basically just hooked-up to a totally random (and completely anonymous) stranger to chat to. That's it.

So far, so boring. But I noticed that the banner on the site said "Omegle - Talk To Strangers!". And I thought it might be amusing to mis-read this instruction as "Talk To Stranglers". So I've been striking up strangling-related conversations with random members of the world and seeing where they've led to. I have one rule: Keep going until the Strangler disconnects.

Here's one of them ("You" is, erm, Me. "Stranger" is the other person):

Connecting to server...

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: Hi. Are you a strangler?

Stranger: Strangler?

You: Yes.

Stranger: Are you?

Stranger: I dont have to strangle to kill :P

You: No. That is why I am here, looking for one.

You: I don't want someone to kill.

Stranger: No problem

Stranger: Where are you based?

You: In Wales. Where are you?

Stranger: Ausi?

Stranger: indai

Stranger: India

Stranger: Oops England?

You: I have heard of India. I think. It is near Africa?

Stranger: No

You: Yes. Wales is a town in England. Near Northampton.

Stranger: Good

You: Is India near Bombay?

Stranger: You know Bombay?

You: I used to. Then it became Mumbai and it's not as good as it was before.

Stranger: Bombay is IN India

You: Like Veet, or Starburst.

You: Ah. Sorry for confusion.

You: ...Or Cif

Stranger: Cif?

You: Yes. Cif. Which used to be called "Jif". It was much better at cleaning floors before.

Stranger: hmmm

You: Lots of towns in India have changed their names. Why is that?

Stranger: When British were here they changed names

Stranger: We are now changing them back

You: Ah. OK. I am British you know.

Stranger: Yeah

You: I hope you don't think I changed your towns?

Stranger: But I dont think you were here when British were here :P

You: No. I was in bed.

You: Hiding.

You: Which part of India are you from?

Stranger: Delhi

You: Ah. Delhi. Is that the same as New Delhi? Or is it the old Delhi?

Stranger: I am in what is called Delhi

Stranger: There is a New Delhi as well

You: In Britain we call it दिल्ली

Stranger: Yeah

You: We have always called it that here. Since Roman times.

Stranger: Were you alive then?

Stranger: Till you met the strangler?

Stranger: :D

You: Don't be silly! That would make me over 70 years old!

Stranger: ha ha

You: I'm talking about Roman Polanski, the movie director, who lived in Wales for some time.

You: Tell me an interesting fact about Delhi. And I will tell you one about Wales in return.

You: Then you can amaze your friends.

Stranger: hmmm

Stranger: I will have to think really hard

Stranger: :P

You: OK. I have 18 minutes to wait.

Stranger: What after that

Stranger: ?

Stranger: Battery would run out?

You: No.

You: Medication time.

You: OK - here is my fact about Wales.

You: In Wales there are FIVE different cinemas, but they all show the same films.

You: 16 minutes left...

You: How long have you been in Delhi?

Stranger: There have been no new releases in Delhi for last month or so

You: That is a damn-fool crying shame, as we say here.

You: Can you send me some spicy sausage and strong goat cheese?

Stranger: Sure

You: Good. Put it on your computer and press 'send'.

Stranger: I just couriered it to you

Stranger: Did not think of the computer route

You: Ah - but I think you are toying with me, mr cheeky monkey. You do not know my address, or my FedEx customer number. So how does that work?

You: I think you are trying to con me out of my money.

Stranger: lol

You: 12 minutes to go.

Stranger: Damn I did not get any money

You: I demand to know an interesting fact about Delhi. I have given you Wales fact.

You: Now I am one fact down in the deal.

You: If I don't get my Delhi fact soon, I will complan to the Ombudsman.

You: *complain

You: On the other hand, maybe the ombudsman would like some complan - if he's on a diet. Do they still sell it? Can you get Complan in Delhi? That would be an interesting fact!

You: Hello? Mr Cheeky Monkey? Are you still there?

You: I'm starting to think you aren't really in Delhi. I'm going now.

You: Bye

You: Bye-bye

You: See ya!

You: Ta-ra

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: Complan is something you will find in Delhi

Stranger: For sure

You: Arrividerci

You: sayonara

Stranger: Au Revoir

You: hasta la vista

Your conversational partner has disconnected.

All Done and Dusted

Well, not quite done and dusted, but, it was the dress rehearsal of On The Razzle tonight. The show looked great. I'm very proud of everyone involved and I'm sure that all who come to see it will enjoy it - hopefully on many levels.

The last couple of weeks (and the past 3 days in particular) have been very hard work, but it's all come together and when I look back I'm certain that I will think that it was all worth it.

Now though, I'm looking forward to getting my life back and spending some time with MLAIPYW [My Lovely And Incredibly Patient Young Wife].

Rains = Pours

My car failed its MOT last week. Argh! The major problem (of four) was that the power steering had a leak somewhere. Hence the reason for the need for a top-up a couple of weeks ago. By the way, since that day, I've checked the owner's manual for the car. No mention of topping-up power steering fluids... Ha!

Anyway, took the car back to the garage for repairs and re-test today. The fix to the part that failed was going to cost £350. With the added complication that, more than likely, fixing the leaky hose would cause the other steering components to fail, under the increased fluid pressure, and that would set me back at least £1000. And then there were the other problems to fix too. So I'm looking at a bill of at least £400 and the likelihood that it would soon escalate to four figures...

Argh! The car only cost me £500 in Nov 2007.

So, chatting to the mechanic, it seemed it made more sense to send my old car away for scrap - bringing in the huge price of £93 - and to buy another used-car from the garage for £395. Overall, I'll end up saving £100 (at least) on what I would have paid to keep my old car on the road.

Which is a fairly positive outcome - though with no money coming in (apart from what I can beg, borrow, steal, or earn from pimping myself around the town centre) I'd have preferred not to have such a big bill right now.

And what are the four round, black things on the corners?

All my attempts to look macho and manly are ultimately undermined by my unceasing ignorance about cars.

In the last week my motor has started making nasty grinding noises whenever I turn the wheel. Convinced that the bearings, suspension, dampers, axle or some other component was about to fail, I carried on driving regardless. Because, of course, a broken - or even crashed - car, is preferable to paying money to get it fixed.

Yes, I am a stupid twat.

Today I came to my senses. Partly because I don't want to die in awful crash, but mainly because my MOT is due this month and I thought it would be prudent to get any problems fixed in advance.

So, off I drove to my local garage. Luckily it's nearby, so I didn't have to turn the steering wheel too many times. As I pulled in the friendly mechanic said "Sounds like you've got a problem with your power-steering." Oh, balls! That sounds expensive. At which point he popped the bonnet, unscrewed a cap and poured in some special, magic, pink power-steering fluid.

"Looks like you let this run out", he said.

"I didn't know that there was anything that could run out", I replied.

I asked if it had run out because there was a problem. "Nope. You just have to keep it topped-up. Like the oil and the water."

He unscrewed the cap of the water reservoir.

"Hmmm. Your water's nearly empty too. Here - I'll fill it up for you."

"Oops!", said I, "It's twats like me that keep you in business."

"Yes", he said - fixing me with a look that confirmed that I was indeed a twat of the highest order. "See that?", he asked, pointing at a plastic loop. "That's the dipstick".

"Ha ha ha. Yes, I know", I replied, in a jaunty, look-at-us-grown-men-larking-about-with-cars manner.

In a bid to completely subvert the natural order of such things, the nice mechanic refused to take any payment in exchange for his advice, his fluids and his pointed remarks about my twattedness. Truly, this man is the nicest mechanic in the world. And I'm not telling you where his workshop is.