Category: Uncategorised

D’oh

On Friday at work, I was running round like a blue-arsed fly trying to sort out a PC for someone we have visiting this week. No actual machine was forthcoming, but I arranged all the software licenses and said I’d pop in on Saturday to do the installation. I just needed an actual machine.

Saturday lunchtime and I make a journey into work (via a detour as the police had closed the main route into Halifax from where I live), only to find a complete lack of anything machiney. After an hour of getting no answer from people’s mobiles, I headed on to my next appointment – sorting out a friend’s mum’s PC (same one as last week). She’s about as IT-literate as a damp sponge. Or indeed as my mother. Much of a muchness.

I was off on Monday – when this machine was due by – so my boss and one of the lads I work with did the install. Boss-man kicked it off with the Oracle installation early in the morning. Full whack – software, database, the works.

We use one of these big portable hard drive things for installs. Very handy as it stores loads and works on anything 2000 upwards with a USB port. Also, as the machine wasn’t to be networked it was the only way to get the install programs onto it.

Allen did the rest of the install, took the drive off and stored it safely away. Our visitor then started work on the machine… for two minutes before coming a bit of a cropper. None of the software was working. Or at least, nothing that needed to connect to the Oracle database.

So, Allen has a bit of a dig. Processes seem to be running, services are there… but won’t start. A registry dig says that all the components are installed. On the E: drive. Funny. The machine only has a C: and a CD-ROM.

Boss-Bloke has only gone and installed Oracle, and the database, on the portable drive.

Cue Allen, in his own words, “looking a right lemon” as he removes the software piece by piece and reinstalls it in the correct place.

Italian “fans”

I found the use of flares at the Milan derby the other night disgraceful. They’re sooo seventies and should never have made a comeback.

But, seriously, folks – how come as soon as England enter a competition there’s UEFA warnings that the first problem our fans cause will see us ejected from competition? Italians regularly throw objects at the players. This is getting more common here, but ******* flares? How on earth are they getting them into the grounds?

A lad I work with went to that same stadium following Leeds a few years ago. His mate has his fag lighter and deoderant taken off him, yet the home fans were bunging flares off all game. The fire services are on standby inside the stadium at all the matches there for that very reason. In addition, the visiting fans had bottles of piss, coins, spit and other detritus thrown at and over them by the home fans. The police ignored this utterly, yet as soon as a Leeds fan stood up, or tried to go to the loo… How the hell do they get away with it?

Don’t even get me started on Turkey, though. Can anyone tell me how many foreign football fans have visited England and been stabbed to death in the last few years? Yet UEFA reject Newcastle (and others) as a Champions League Cup Final ground in favour of… the Atatürk Olympic stadium in Istanbul, Turkey.

Yes, UEFA. Let’s just spit on the memories of Spate and Lofthouse. You *******.

No more COOOKIES!!!

Cookie Monster has been silenced, or at least made to tell kids that cookies are only a “sometimes food”. I love that. How ******* American is that phrase?

It’s hardly the same, is it? “SOMETIMES FOOODDDD! SOMETIMES FOOOODDD!”

It is a dark day for us all. If they want to “get with the kids”, The Count should turn to rap:

“One! One bullet in the shitty rap star!
Two! Two bullets in his bling-addled chest!
Three! Three caps in his mother-fuckin’ ass!
Four! Four bits of hot lead to shut his bitch-ass mouth!
Five! Five cop-killers in his fuckin’ head!
Six! Six rounds to show him who’s his daddy!
Seven! Seven shots in his dirty fuckin’ face!
Eight! Eight 9mm’s in a dotted line across his front!
Nine! Nine shiny death-dealers smashing out his teeth!
Ten! Ah, ****. Run out, and the tosser’s still breathing”

And Kermit should be a flasher with that dirty mac he wears. And Big Bird should sell crack to Mr Snofalopolous. He’d need shitloads with that big ******* nose of his.

Phones and drinkies

OK, so I was bored, but has anyone else noticed the main UK mobile phone networks all seem to be drink-related?

There’s Orange (juice), Virgin (Cola), O2 (water, if you muck around with some hydrogen), and Vod(k)afone. “3” could mean a treble, but I’m a bit stuck on T-mobile.

Always one exception to a rule.

When I took this job, I was given a small maths test as part of the interview process. I was allowed to use a calculator and I admit I ended up resorting to it, though I tried not to.

Now that I field 2nd line calls from helpdesk, it amazes me that they don’t consider a short written or typed English test as well. Some of the things we get through are just unreal – and virtually impossible to deal with as a result.

I thought at one point that one of the helpdesk staff had given up punctuation for Lent, but that’s been and gone now and there’s still not a capital letter, full stop or comma to be seen in any of their call logs. In all honesty, I’d not expect staff to have to run a 50-word word docket through a spellcheck and grammar check to make it meaningful, but I fear we may have to enforce it.

This kind of thing’s becoming almost a part of our culture. I know people who are pretty intelligent. They’re great to converse with. They have good jobs and qualifications. Yet I receive an email from them and it’s full of abbreviations, mis-spellings, bad punctuation, abysmal grammar… Are we forgetting things? Don’t we have the time? Or are they not being taught? I’ve noticed that the worst offenders are people a fair bit younger than me, but it’s too easy to point fingers at poor schooling. Of course, in a country where you can get a “B” in maths with a 17% exam result…

A few years ago, I actually saw a sign up outside a business advertising their services as advertisers and sign-writers. It has a spelling mistake and a stray apostrophe on it. You can’t walk through the town centre without seeing A-frames, menus and signs with cock-ups on them, and they’re all so inconsistent. On many, it’s like someone’s sprinkled apostrophes around like confetti with the idea that at least some of them will be in the right place.

I know my English isn’t as good as it once was. I’m having to look up words I should know how to spell, for instance. But at least I flipping try.

I confess to one that I use a lot on MSN, though. Abbreviating “OK” to “K”. I mean, how lazy is that?! And I still manage to spell it incorrectly at times.

C ya.

First off, I’m fairly sure everyone knows what I like to listen to. That is, pretty much anything but I prefer the heavier stuff. As I type this, I’ve got a free DVD from Metal Hammer playing and Deicide‘s When Heaven Burns annoying the neighbours.

Eyes left and down (or up) a bit will show you what I have in the car CD player and nearby is my most recent MP3 list from WinAmp (permanently on random). I’ve just ordered the last Exodus album, and the most recent Soilwork one (from the US – still cheaper than the UK even with airmail). I’m in a heavy mood.

So I was giving this lad a lift to site during the week – Shane. Really nice bloke, actually. We had a good natter on the way there and stuff. On the way back, though, he finally twigged what was on the stereo.

“Are you listening to Slipknot? How can you listen to that? It’s all noise! I mean, I’d not even class the instruments they use as musical! I prefer dance stuff myself.”

Instruments. Not musical. Prefer dance.

Can anyone spot the seriously ******* deep flaw in his criticism?

As recompense for the following…

Another charity call, folks. Ray McDermott is a Toon fan who’s not going to be watching the semi-final next weekend. Instead, he’ll be running the London Marathon in aid of the Royal British Legion.

Chuck a few bob his way if you can afford it. Thanks.

All this religion stuff

5-Live had a great discussion this morning. They actually found the one person in Britain brave enough to come on and bad-mouth the Pope and all he stands for. In the interests of fair play and balance, a staunch Catholic was put up against him. This is fair – you should always hear both sides of an argument.

The texts and emails that followed were unreal. This guy was slaughtered for having his own opinion. Most of them stated that he shouldn’t be allowed on the radio, and his opinions shouldn’t be public. Now, hang on, but if we went that way just to keep the Catholics happy wouldn’t be be just as bad as China or countries under Taliban rule?

For crying out loud, we’re a country that has more freedom of speech than the US now enjoys – and they still claim to be the “land of the free”. Now, I have nothing against Catholics in the slightest. I just have something against people who have this weird idea that we should all be free to express ourselves as we wish, as long as our opinions coincide with theirs. One of the comments was hilarious – “I don’t see how we should have a non-Catholic desseminating our doctrine”. Who better? When an enquiry is launched, you don’t get someone involved in it to go through the paperwork, do you? You get an independent arbitrator who’s as uninvolved as possible.

The bible, apparently, tells us we all have free will to go and do as we please. Several branches of christianity teach this, yet they all seem to get miffed if you go ahead and do it. Now wait – I’m being told by the stated “rules” that I’m supposed to stick by these guidelines, but it’s up to me should I choose to ignore them. OK, that’s fine. But why then get so pissed off with me if I decide to do just that?

I also believe that the meek shall inherit the earth. Which doesn’t explain why the pope lived in a palatial residence and was waited on hand and food. OK, so he’s not had a shag – ever – but that’s his choice. And what about following the will of the big guy upstairs? Religious Dude seemed to be doing his best to not become Dead Religious Dude for quite some time. In fact, he had three doctors attending to him at once. Surely, the truly christian thing would be to recognise that his time had come and to send them away to tend to someone who had a chance to pull through?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure he was a nice guy, but I’d not put him on the same plinth as Mother Theresa. She really did sacrifice everything for people less well off than her. No bullet-proof cars, first-class flights, crowds of followers and gold trinkets. There was a person we can all look up to and say “I wish I could set such a fantastic example to my kids”.

As for the funeral and stuff, I mean come on. It’s not exactly the best way to spend a few days, is it? What’s wrong with going to the zoo, or catching a film? Nah, several million people want to gawp at a well-dressed corpse. Look, if you want to see well-dressed corpses, head over to New York and wander round for a bit. You’re bound to find a few kicking about in the alleys.

As an aside, I notice all European matches this week have started with a 1-minute silence and players wearing black armbands for the Dead Religious Dude. This is a UEFA decision, though I don’t know the fine if a team refused. It’s a moot point, but I’m just wondering exactly how quiet the crowd at Ibrox would be…

While I’m on a religious rant, if the big JC was so bloody clever he could turn water into wine, why couldn’t ge turn oak into balsa? That’d have made it a bit difficult for them to get the nails to stick in and they might have had to let him go.

Weekend happenings

They’re doing a draw at work, and someone asked if I had any idea what horse was going to win on Saturday. “That one with the big teeth, who’s marrying the jug-eared ****” was my reply.

My final degree grade

Well, I’ve found the document that’s used to work out the grades and – assuming I pass the two courses I’m doing this year – I now know what I’ll get at the end.

Third Class.

I cannot affect this. It’s what I’ll get regardless of whether I pass the two remaining courses with flying colours, or by the skin of my teeth. As if I needed any more excuse to take my foot off the gas!