That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Friday, March 02, 2007

‘Never explain or apologise’

That’s what Hitler used to say. These days that don’t wash the diapers!

Edited technical bit. (I must be careful.)

I canna blog from work Caaptain, - They would find me and beat me.

Besides, they pay half my phone bill, although that’s neither here nor there since the only company calls I make at home are to call in sick.
But one of my access numbers WAS dial up! Ooh-er missus.

Before the 6th of February there was total separation, a paramount concern of my august employers, but now according to our IT man, it’s as if there is a huge, HUGE Favourites List and Cape to Rio isn’t on it.
Not that I was stupid enough to name it by name, but I feel I was imprudent in the first place and have maybe drawn unwelcome attention down upon my troubled head.

He IS a sneaky little bastard (and ill favoured to the point of ugliness.)

Orange, (or Wanadoo as was), have been charging me a hefty £17.99 over and above my regular subscription for the past three years!
That’s £647.64 give or take.
I live in hope to see it again…skip to the end…words were exchanged, tempers were lost and a plug was pulled.


A name like ORANGE should have warned me.

NTL are the future!

Actual Weblog bit.

The past month’s been utter total Hell.
Been to the pictures, (Black Book, Notes on a Scandal, Garrison Keiller’s Radio Show, Hot Fuzz and The Number 23), have eaten out, and I’m talking proper restaurants here, not Cap’n Jack’s Pirate Platter (Kim’s favourite), I mean total prawn cocktail, steak and seasonal veg selection with black forest gateaux for afters and all washed down with a pert Lambrusco.

We asked for kir once. What a laugh.

What else? Let’s see,
went to Glasgow a couple of times, { Horseshoe Bar, Transport Museum, The Art Galleries, Italian dinner }

What else
Did Ben Imie, then did the one I forget its name, at the top of the Rest And Be Thankful the next day while it snowed!

Well hark at her!

I’m getting to the point.

It got so bad, I dragged Madam Maroon along to an internet café. I took her because she looks respectable. The plan being she would bugger off once she’d paid the nice man. There wasn’t a free terminal!

Now, rather than say,

“OK dude, bring us two mocha frappochinos with cinnamon sprinkles and we shall wait”…

We both just bolted in unexpected embarrassment. The place was full of inert weirdos anyway. Why don’t they get their own computers? And a wash for God’s sake?. Their fingernails were a disgrace.

The point.

Even with all this activity, and people getting sacked all over the place because of those French nincompoops at A.I., you’d think I’d have enough to think about, well you’d be wrong.

I am a total empty shell without you. It’s been awful.

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