Throgmorton P. Wallop-Wallop III

Aim

2008-03-06T12:48:00.002Z

People who think "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" are aiming too high...

When world (views) collide

2007-11-30T14:23:00.000Z

When faith meets reason, faith puts its fingers in its ears and goes "La la laah".

When reason meets faith, reason won't get any sensible answers because faith is too busy with its fingers in its ears...

What to do, what to do?

2006-12-04T00:04:00.000Z

Purchasing and cost-cutting in a large organisation is a tricky and, sometimes, emotional subject and it was no different at Pan Galactic Corporate Bank.

For example:

The CIO blogmeister, and a few other top brass, get personally involved with a commercial wiki provider (that happens to have at least one connection with ICANN). They've made new friends (good for the career – me? cynical?), see that the software has promise though still in development, and the world is good. Obviously the thing to do now is to hand over a large amount of money to continue that development, tell the IT department to install the software and make public announcements.

Then it's discovered that PGCB has been using an open-source wiki in house for 4 years already that's: a. free and b. perfectly good...

What to do, what to do?....

Well, what would you do? No really, it's a serious question.

Obviously it's whatever prevents senior management from losing face! Tch, silly question really. This includes having a half-time person fully devoted to proselytising the 6-figure software.

2 years later and Throgmorton finds himself “off message” looking after the still free and open source wiki. It has 17,000 pages whereas Nepowiki(tm) is being used for only 3,000! Throgmorton gets on the internal blog (there to aid internal communication) describing the silliness of the situation, and proposes looking after Freewiki.

“No you can't”

“How about in my own time? Evenings and weekends and stuff”

“No”

Eh? Freewiki is used for all the business critical systems documentation! Losing this data is absolutely not an option and there's no migration plan. Everyone using Freewiki knows this is mad but most people are keeping their heads down e.g. Throgmorton is receiving comments like “you're dancing around the feet of elephants mate”...

It then turns out the hardware used for Freewiki is being decommissioned in two months – it will take 3 person months to migrate the data from Freewiki to Nepowiki (Nepowiki is still under-featured and there's no migration tool) whereas just a person-week to install Freewiki, at the latest version, on borrowed hardware (and would save the company a quarter of a million quid).

What to do, what to do?...

The upgrade obviously.

But secretly.

Ooh, the ire. The wailing and nashing of teeth from above when the job is finished! Much conversation is had on the blog (improving conversation daily) debating the merits of this, that and the other culminating in the UK IT head (nee Accountant) proclaiming “I don't care what you do in your own time on your home computer. Your opinion is of no relevance to me, only that you adhere to my decisions”.

Now, Throgmorton is made of sterner stuff then to be bothered by abject rudeness. But the management technique of “ignoring those with the real experience” is pointy-haired and exasperating to say the least.

Word then comes down that I've “rattled the cage too hard” and I'm asked, by direct boss, to help with the migration from the, still without cost, Freewiki, to the, still under-featured, Nepowiki.

What to do, what to do?

Of course I'll help.

I'll give them all they need – which is far more than they want!

But, word of advice. Never ever, ever, EVER send out an email containing the phrases “keep this to yourselves” and “kybosh”.

The next day I'm suspended – escorted from the building! cooo! - and I send out a text to a whole bunch of my chums along the lines of “that's something that's not happened before...”

Without fail my female acquaintances respond with “OMG, r u ok!”, “I'm here if you want to talk”, “tell me more”, “do you need an employment layer” etc. etc. Bless.

On the men front: Lumpy replies “Well done, job well done” and Bob (the builder): “That's interesting, do you want to earn some extra dosh?”

Men know how to deal with these things...

Responding to Bob: “err, I'm on enforced paid leave 'till the inquest. Contract says I can't take any other work”

“Say no more, say no more, I quite understand. But my sister-in-law's mum's house has a few walls that need knocking down and Christmas is coming up and I've got this brown envelope with your name on it...”

“Well, if you put it like that.”

Two weeks later PGCB actually get around to sacking me. Yes all but top brass agree with you, yes you were following your duty to the company, yes it would have saved money, but the word Kybosh suggests “Willful Disobedience of a Manager” which is, unfortunately, “Gross Professional Misconduct”.

Shucks (and, since then, I've figured out how to re-word that email to achieve the same objective without getting sacked).

But I have to admit operating huge power tools for a short job is fantastic therapy – using a 2000W angle-grinder to put door-holes in walls is SO much fun I really couldn't have given a toss.

So PGCB stopped paying my garden leave on Nov 26th, and I started at HardLine ISP 2 days later as UK head of “Read my Visio and Put That There” - which, laugh out loud, is a much better job.

So why write this blog? Spite? Catharsis? Just for fun?

Well it occurs to me, would you least like work with: someone who is absolutely hopeless at office politics, or someone who's very, very good at it?...

Women are insane

2006-08-17T08:37:00.000+01:00

Yes, all of them.

Well, all the ones I meet anyway, but maybe I just like "eccentric" ones...

Her: Are you getting fed up with me?

Me: I adore you

Her: But we don't get to see each other much

Me: Yeah, but that's just the situation, I'd love to be with you more

Her: So you aren't getting fed up with this

Me: Look, do you like me and fancy me?

Her: Ooh yes, yummy.

Me: And I fancy you and adore you too, so that's great yes?

Her: Are you sure you aren't getting fed up with this?

Me: NO!!!!

etc. etc.

Musing 4

2006-07-18T18:33:00.000+01:00

Why bother?

There's two, and only two, reasons for doing something:

It's fun
It's an investment for something in the future that will be fun

If it's neither of those then, really, find something else to do!

If you're being paid then at least that can be an investment: we work today so we have a roof over our head tomorrow. But if your job is really that bad then there is bound to be something else you can do!

Investment corollary:

Learning stuff is an investment in the future
Asking questions is the first step of learning

Squawk

2006-07-08T13:31:00.000+01:00

I seem to be going out with someone who's a bit Catholic, so we don't talk about religion very much... But she just sent me this joke :-)

A lady goes to her priest one day and tells him, "Father, I have a problem. I have two female parrots, but they only know how to say one thing.

"What do they say?" the priest inquired.

"They say, "Hi,we're hookers! Do you want to have some fun?'"

"That's obscene!" the priest exclaimed, then he thought for a moment.

"You know," he said, "I may have a solution to your problem. I have two male talking parrots, which I have taught to pray and read the Bible. Bring your two Parrots over to my house, and we'll put them in the cage with Francis and Pete. My parrots can teach your parrots to praise and worship, and your parrots are sure to stop saying that phrase in no time."

"Thank you," the woman responded, "this may very well be the solution."

The next day, she brought her female parrots to the priest's house. As he ushered her in, she saw that his two male parrots were inside their cage holding Rosary beads and praying. Impressed, she walked over and placed her parrots in with them.....

After a few minutes, the female parrots cried out in unison: "Hi, we're hookers! Do you want to have some fun?"

There was stunned silence.

Shocked, one male parrot looked over at the other male Parrot and exclaimed, "Put the beads away, Frank. Our prayers have been answered."

Musing 3

2006-06-23T17:44:00.001+01:00

Manliness is a state of mind, not a physique (though being fit never hurts :-)

Walking straight up to someone and getting something done: this is manly.

Getting into a sulky rage and fighting: this is not manly.

Leading, enabling and encouraging growth: manly.

Bullying: this is the mind of a child.

Getting old

2006-06-21T00:05:00.000+01:00

A good friend once said:

"You know you're getting old when you think young people dress funny and you don't understand their music"

I mean, girls with pot bellies hanging over their hipster trousers: does anybody think that looks good?

And I think Terry Wogan is really good radio in the morning.

And I've started making that YEUURGHH noise when I get out of a chair like my Dad does...

And the young hair-washer in the Barbers had a fantastic cleavage! [no wait, that's just me being a man :-]

Hmm, any other clues?

On the other hand hopefully Dad will be making those noises for a while longer yet as he had his op today.

But it was a difficult op and the surgeon did say that one more month and the tumour would have been too big to operate on – and yet the fabled Dr Martin didn't spot any of the symptoms for more than a year! Dickhead.

So the next thing to get used to is Dad having extensive chemo...

And, on yet another hand, my Dad's cousin also died of Colon Cancer just a few days ago so, now that a lot of the paternal side have gone the same way, myself, sibling Wallop-Wallop and a bunch of other male relatives will be signing ourselves up for the inyerendo-oscopy. Niiiice...

Parents: can't live with them... #2

2006-06-12T00:04:00.000+01:00

Mothers the universe over have the inability to believe their children grow up. I think even Martian mothers say to their adult offspring "Now dear, I'm sure you don't hold your ray gun like that. Do it properly...".

And, true to form, even though sibling Wallop-wallop and I are, ahem, well never mind how old, the Matriarch still likes to protect her "little things"... So when she said "Your dad's going into hospital on the 8th" she missed out nearly the entire story: ie. neglecting to mention it was just for a chat with the specialist!

For goodness sake.

Any road up, Aged Pa is due in to have plumbing chopped out and the ends joined together again on July the 20th.

But the main issue is that the docs won't know how far gone the cancer is until it's lifted out and looked at. This is despite having apparently classic symptoms for a year or more that were dismissed by the nob-head Dr Martin (you know who you are!). If it wasn't for the superb, foreign, locum they happened to see one day we might all have been ignorant of the whole thing until it was far too late!

For fuck's sake!

Well, be thankful for the good things I suppose...

Ps. Of course, on the evening of the 7th the Radio 4 Moral Maze was all about a guy with colon cancer and should he get expensive drugs or not. Niiiice...

Parents: can't live with them...

2006-06-07T18:05:00.000+01:00

There’s one thing that parents and children have in common: they want their children / parents to be happy.

Actually there’s another thing: one’s parents and children never have sex ever ever just bloody EVER all right! Just don’t give me that “so how comes you’re here” nonsense la la la I’ve got my fingers in my ears la la lar lar LAH!!!. So there! Ok!

Anyway, back to happiness. Nothing else really matters when you come down to it and, now that both ancestors are retired, conversations between self and said often go like this:

Me: “So what are you doing for fun these days?”

Them: “ooh, a bit of gardening and the church fete”

Me: “err, anything exciting?”

Them: “no not really”

Me: “oh for goodness sake just pick something, go out, and do it!!!”

Them: “yeah I guess so”

Etc. etc.

And why is it that my parents seem to have such a hard time having a holiday?!

They went to Thailand – plain got delayed.
They went to New York – it rained.
And they’re always having colds or what not just before a hols and, as a descendant, I have to come to terms with the idea there’s nothing I can do.

They are grown-ups after all.

So, dear reader, the story comes round to this year’s holiday: two long weeks in Scandinavia seeing lots of interesting things, everything arranged for them (and, unfortunately, costing a packet). What could possibly go wrong?

Sage Dad T. P. W-W II gets diagnosed with colon cancer.

He’s having his bum chopped off tomorrow as far as I can gather.

Flip… To be honest I'm not really thinking about it much. Deliberately.

Funnily enough, I’ve had “C” by John Diamond on my shelf for ages, so now seems a good time to charge through it...

Identity crisis

2006-05-09T01:51:00.000+01:00

I bought myself a new car last month. As part of my finance agreement I had to prove beyond doubt who I was and they were suggesting gas bills and the like as reasonable proof.

Gas bills! I don't have gas bills lying around! The ones I do get I glance at once, think “err, I guess that's right” and chuck in the bin! And that's not counting the ones I get online these days (and I'd be very disappointed if printouts of those were accepted as proof as they're so easy to fake). But I managed to find some things in my junk pile so all was good.

But how ridiculous in this day and age that I can't do a simple thing like prove my address?

Which brings us neatly to the recently sacked Charles Clark.

You might think after the rant above that I'd be all for the swanky new ID cards.

Err, hell no!

A single, hackable government database keeping a record of, amongst other things, every house you've ever lived in? Making it a criminal offence to fail to tell the government when you move? Data shared and sold without any control or consent and much MUCH more - I don't think so.

That, coupled with the fact that IT JUST WON'T WORK!

Unless ID cards – and presence on the National Identity Register – are compulsory THE WORLD OVER terrorists, posing as tourists, will always be able to give fake addresses! And making the NIR compulsory, even in just this country, would create a Police State far far worse than watching out for the odd bag on the underground!

But this being a narcissistic blog* Throgmorton does of course have a solution: the National Cross Reference database.

Let me explain.

My passport has my address – but that's far too valuable to wave around in a car showroom – and my new euro-pink driving license has my picture (and address, but for some reason it wasn't enough proof...)

But tie the two together and Bob's yer Uncle!

A very simple chip-n-pin card that contains your photo and address both printed on the front and stored in the chip - cryptographically signed so gov. agencies etc. can know the photo is real** - plus a pointer in the NCR all of which can only be read if the holder types in their pin.

That makes the card incredibly useful to the public, secure against frivolous prying, and protected as much as a bank card – if you lose it or it's stolen just ring the number, the card is cancelled (and watch alerts put in the system for it) and you get a new one in the post with all the “activation” protection of a credit card.

The point is that, what with driver's license, passport, NI number, various social security numbers, criminal records and so on the government ALREADY HAS, all the information it needs plus all the legislation to control it (that's the important bit) – so constructing a new huge, fallible database and legislation is just a colossal waste of money (£5.5 - 19 billion estimates for the rubbish ID Card scheme represents 8 – 30% of the UK education budget for example) Compared to this a National Cross Reference database would be incredibly easy to build – so much so that it would be virtually free!

An NCR card needs no new information to be gathered on the public.

Membership of the NCR would be completely voluntary (if it's useful they will come), a cardholder would just need to nominate at least one existing government number to get on. I'd nominate my main 3 – driver, NI and passport – and be done with it. But the details held in the NCR would be entirely limited by the cardholder. Obviously there'd have to be special checks for the same name appearing at the one address etc. to stop people trying to get more than one identity.

The exception would be anyone who receives a large service of some kind from the State, for whom it would be compulsory: those receiving Social Security benefits (solves some of the £50 million benefit fraud), prisoners (solves some of the recent deportation issues), and new immigrants (should make the whole process more streamlined and easy for them and cheaper for the taxpayer – new immigrants are already compelled to have an ID at customs anyway).

All useful to the taxpayer, solves all the problems the current government have claimed in public, and extremely easy and cheap to implement. But what this doesn't buy is all the extra surveillance that the government secretly really wants.

But it will only happen if you write to your MP. Do it now.

Is there anything I've missed?

* “narcissistic blog” being a tautology of course :-)

** sorry geeky bit there – and it wasn't originally Throgmorton's idea either)

*** blogging on its own achieves nothing...

Please, just stop

2006-05-04T18:00:00.000+01:00

Her of the Majestic Bottom - Carol Vorderman, the thinking man's crumpet - has, I'll admit, one teensy weensy flaw. Unfortunately it's a flaw that makes her the spawn of whatever Satan is in your religion.

I'm talking about about the way she has sold her very soul to the "Secured Loan" brigade - using her reputation as a red-hot maths whizz to sell the utterly ridiculous and frankly objectionable idea that, if you're in debt and short of money the best way out is to borrow more!

At last a real money-whizz with enough Internet clout has had enough. Head on over the the Carol, for the benefit of the masses, please pack it in petition and make your electronic whisper heard.

The rest of Martin Lewis' website is not bad either...

All the best minds...

2006-04-26T18:19:00.000+01:00

...think alike

Neil Kinnock gets a 6 months driving ban for speeding offences :-)

It's obvious (so why is it happening?)

2006-03-29T00:55:00.000+01:00

It may be obvious but V for Vendetta (out in local cinemas now) is more than a bit relevant as the National Identity Register (spun to us proles as the ID Card Scheme) is pushed into compulsion. Thank goodness for the Lords.

When cattle and sheep are branded it's not for the cattle's benefit...

Open jawed admiration

2006-03-18T11:24:00.000Z

I'm slobbed out on my sofa watching the Commonwealth games - the gymnastics section.

And the commentator just said "a fairly basic routine"

What?!!!

She just did a double flippy thing, jumped off the bouncy thing onto the horsey thing, another flippy thing, landed square on her feet and did it all in 3.2 nanoseconds!

"Fairly basic"!!!!

Then there's the girls doing 100 foot leaps and twists while standing on, what seems to me, a piece of wood the width of a matchstick...

Followed by the "uneven bars" where the athelete held a handstand on one bar followed by a swing down and flies to the other bar straight into another handstand.

"Good extension on the arms"

WHAT?! "Good extension on the arms"! Is that the best you can say?

These people live on another planet :-)

What do your kids play?

2006-03-02T23:34:00.000Z

[Warning: this is a number 2 rant]

I'm currently watching Question Time on BBC1 and they're still going on about the inequaltiy of pay between men and women.

Will Self just made the excellent point that perhaps instead of women trying to earn as much as men, men should work less and earn as much as women....

Then another anonymous talking politician tried to score a few points about how this is a big injustice etc. etc. blah blah blah

But they all miss the point!

Executive jobs, where the big money is, is a harsh and nasty business. Dog eat dog. Ego wins. Etc. etc.

But let's think back to when you were in school... what games did you play?

Boys played football, to cries of "get in there!", "kill!", "get the ball", "go on, score"

Girls played netball where as soon as you get the ball you have to stand very, very still and give it away.

Hmmm

Now it's all very well saying that that top jobs should be more touchy-feely and generous, but they're just not! Get used to it.

Drop netball, get girls to play football and wait 20 years. That's all you need to do to equalise pay!

Sorted.

Agnosticism is also not a method of argument

2006-02-25T13:53:00.000Z

I know I bang on about my two favourite subjects, but I like them so there :-)

Last Thursday Radio 4's thought for the day was by John Bell of the Iona Community.

It was only the last bit that really caught my ear, but having listened to it again I was also struck by:

"And in the end of the day you can't dissect a mystery, you can only embrace it..."

ARRGH NOO! You fecking limp lettuce hippy permanent agnostic waste of space! Of course you can dissect a mystery, that's what being a detective or a scientist is all about! A rainbow is no less wonderous for knowing how it's made!...

Ahem, anyway, the last bit was a poem by Lucien Zell:

"I used to believe in God's plan
until I arrived at a great surprise:
God has no plan -
he prefers to improvise."

Which is almost, but not quite, correct.

It should of course be:

I used to believe in God's plan
until I arrived at a great surprise:
There's no need for a God that plans
when evolution can improvise.

[That's enough seriousness for one month: ed]

Fibbing is not a method of argument

2006-02-20T09:42:00.000Z

Radio 4's Today programme this morning included an interview with Eugenie Scott (very patient) and John Henry (blithering idiot) * and an extract from a pro intelligent design DVD:

"Consider the difficulty of generating just two lines of Shakespeare's play Hamlet by dropping scrabble letters onto a table top...."

It's easy to find fault in an idea if one misrepresents it but, in this case, it's easy to fix. Are you watching carefully?

"Evolution is randomness"

"Evolution is small random change plus selection"

The first version is not correct, the second one is. It's a surprisingly small difference, but one that IDers seemingly find hard to grasp.

* Me? Opinionated? :-)

last minute...

2006-02-13T18:14:00.000Z

So the local card shop at lunchtime today was *packed* - queues for the tills stretching the entire length of the shop with gruff businessmen in grey suits clutching lickle ickle teddy bears with "I Wuv You" on the front...

The BBC sinks its teeth in

2006-01-26T22:56:00.000Z

I just saw the Horizon program on Intelligent Design and the Dover School Board.

It was probably a good "general TV population" program -I felt a little dissapointed at the lack of details - and it made no bones about coming down on the side of science.

For example, the program makers were a bit unsubtle on their opinion of Monkeyboy Bush with a quick banjo riff in the background after his speech :-) but hey.

I wanted to know more about the mathematitian's "proof" of AD, but there was a strong enough hint by Kenneth Miller at the end with the analogy of dealing a set of cards. Evolution doesn't state that the universe would end up this particular way any more than shuffling a deck of cards guarantees you a particular hand. Evolution just states that a genetic line will change over time, by dominance of offspring, in a way that is random but also always edging towards a better fit in its niche of the local environment.

But the key point was actually made by an AD proponent.

"The Darwinists claim we must keep god and any form of supernatural creation out of science and nature has to capable of doing all of its own creating" - Phillip Johnson

Not just "Darwinists" but all scientists! Science is a mechanism for explaning nature that uses only objects that are in nature itself (even if we're not bright enough to have spotted them yet). To invent an intelligent designer is to use, by definition, a supernatural mechanism.

Evolution: Science - to be taught in a science class
Intelligent Design: Faith - to be taught in a religous ed. class

QED

The words "hoist" and "petard" spring to mind.

Johnson also showed himself to be more than a little paranoid with his insistance that the scientific community somehow wanted, and had managed to gain, "power" and "monopoly"...

But best, if most trenchant, quote: "fight a rear-guard action against yapping terriers of ignorance" - Richard Dawkins

Musing 2

2006-01-12T12:54:00.000Z

Never go out with someone who has an affair with you in order to go out with you.

It's only a matter of time before they do it again.

Musing

2006-01-07T03:01:00.000Z

A gossip is someone who will say nice things to your face and tell the truth behind your back.

A friend is someone who will tell the truth to your face and say nice things about you behind your back...

Hooray

2005-12-22T10:36:00.000Z

It took an amazing 139 pages, but common sense has prevailed.

Jackanory

2005-12-06T23:02:00.000Z

This was first circulated by email in March 2000. I didn't have a blog then...

Let me tell you a story...

In my kitchen cupboard I have a large number of tins. Some are regular old favorites that get used frequently, some are backups in case I run out of fresh veg.

A month or so ago I was cooking my dinner, but hadn't been to the shops for a while so plumped for some pasta with a tomato and herb sauce. I opened the tin of toms and was a bit put off by the general colour and lumpiness of the contents.

"Crumbs!" I thought "That's been in there a long time to go off like that" - until I realised it was baked beans!

No, I wasn't going mad. The label was definitely for tomatoes.

"Bloody hell." I thought again (I live on my own. No-one to talk to) "Big cock-up in the packing factory. Suprised there hasn't been a big news story about it".

I was in a hurry, and I think I ended up having the pasta with ketchup.

Now, dear reader, cast you mind forward to last night. After the dance rehearsal I was feeling peckish. So I go for my usual sausage rolls dunked in tomato soup (Hey, I said I live on my own. We all have our secret favourites, so don't lie to me).

I reach for the tin of soup, open it, and there's BABY SWEETCORN!

"Huh?" I question.

"Eh?!" I exclaim.

And then my mind starts to make connections.

Connections with a tin of tomatoes that turned out to be baked beans.

Connections with a time when I had our "friends" 'Tee Hee' and 'Elvis' over to stay....

Connections with the cut and loose label on the tin and the HALF DOZEN OTHERS in the cupboard my eye is only now noticing...

...and my heart sinks. How could they do this to me? My life seems somehow pointless! How will I ever get Sandra Bullock to have my love-child when I can't even sort my tins out!

But maybe McScrunton and Phlegming were lazy... So I reach for the tin labelled "sweetcorn". I open it in trepidation, and there is the lovely red nectar! Aroma of sausage-roll is also wafting out of the oven - maybe life isn't so bad after all, but beware who you leave alone in your kitchen!

Transported to another plane

2005-12-04T22:09:00.000Z

I've said it before* and I'll say it again** BBC radio 4 is a National Treasure...

So I was having a sleepy Sunday morning, err afternoon - weeell, I'd had the lurgy so what do you expect? - well anyway, the most superb 15 minute program came on the wireless radiogram: Composers in the Countryside presented by Simon Halsey.

Nothing too amazing about that, but the piece he was describing, Fantasia On A Theme By Thomas Tallis, was one of the more evocative I've heard in a long time. Soaring themes with the most graceful undertones, the piece was designed to describe the majestic beauty of Gloucester Cathedral and by 'eck does it succeed!

Not only that but the way the music and the narrator's description of the history of the music intertwine it's almost like they embrace each other.

If you can, plug your PC into your Hi Fi. If not, no worries. But for the next seven days you can have another listen...

Do it and your brain-cells will love you forever.

*err, might've

**and not the last time

Atheism weak and strong

2005-11-28T17:55:00.000Z

Yes I know it's too early in week for a Thursday rant, but Penn and Teller are two of my gods. Hooray for their clear thinking, if slightly foul mouthed, humanity. They were even on West Wing on cable last night making a well-needed point about liberty!

The Vatican seems, for the most part, to be peopled by intelligent types trying to balance their beliefs with the, increasingly uncomfortable, idea that everything their eyes tell them seems to contradict at least several of those beliefs.

So the Intelligent Design camp (amongst other religions) has collectively said "stuff that" and, instead, has taken up the position that their beliefs are paramount and anything that contradicts them must be wrong. Barking mad obviously, but such unshakable self-belief makes them very dangerous indeed!

If the ID'ers *really* want equality Throgmorton has the answer: Strong Atheism should be given equal time in religious ed. classes in all schools... tee hee :-)

"Believing there's no God means I can't really be forgiven except by kindness and faulty memories. That's good; it makes me want to be more thoughtful. I have to try to treat people right the first time around.

... Believing there is no God means the suffering I've seen in my family, and indeed all the suffering in the world, isn't caused by an omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent force that isn't bothered to help or is just testing us, but rather something we all may be able to help others with in the future.

No God means the possibility of less suffering in the future." - Penn Jillette

Update

Christian fundamentalists are suing the University of California for having a pro-evolution website. Good grief!!!

Sooo cuuuuuute

2005-11-14T11:09:00.000Z

Pan Galactic Bank is truely a nice place to work.

One of the guys - yes GUYS - just brought in his new lickle-ickle baby to show off to the rest of the teams. All the men in the office had big silly grins on their fizogs, but only the women got to cuddle the baby. Ah well, one step at a time I suppose towards true equality.

Ps. and the baby only started crying once it was put back the pram to be taken away. Aaawww

The train on platform 3

2005-11-02T23:19:00.000Z

2nd of November! Woohoo, half way through the ban - and what have I learnt about public transport?

It sucks.

Except when it doesn't, when it's rather good.

If you want to go inter-city, and you can plan a week in advance, then the train is really fast and pretty cheap. And through-ticketing has to be the one thing that makes it work: I recently did a weekend trip half-way up the country and back and must have used 5 different train companies at mad times of the day and night – all on one ticket! The house of Lords did a superb job when they stitched up the Dark Witch Maggie about that one. Hurrah I say!

But take out a mortgage if you want to travel now, be prepared to leave waaaay before the end of any nightlife if you want to get home – even in London - and give up completely if you just want to go to the next town along... *

I've been way too busy with the new job and Opera rehearsals to blog much recently. So go buy tickets and normal service will be resumed after the show...

* except for some very decent friends to whom I owe a lot.

The magic of evolution

2005-10-27T23:52:00.000+01:00

Stupid people get hurt.

Err, that's it.

Sorry, I know it's Science Thursday and all that, but that's the best I can do. I've now been at Pan Galactic Bank for three days and, as anyone in the City knows, Thursday is "Team Night Out" - i.e. leaving the office at 5:30, six pints down and even the new-boy (me) is taking the piss and generally "fitting in".

Fantastic.

So now there's just enough time to stuff down a Chinese takeaway before hoping the Room-Spin of Doom subsides enough to get some shut-eye before developing core code for the bank tomorrow...

But then, on the other hand, I met a man on the train home tonight who broke my heart – but more of that tomorrow when I can see the keyboard straight.

Ps. Carol Vordermann's bottom - yet more magic of evolution if ever there was...

Bottom (2)

2005-10-25T00:30:00.000+01:00

"I'd rather have a big bum than be a size 8" she says, proving that Carol Vorderman has read my blog.

Bottom

2005-10-24T00:24:00.000+01:00

UK TV G2 are currently having an all-weekend, 100% Bottom Frenzy!

What could be more fantastic than that?!! Even Google agrees :-)

Nerds Rule

2005-10-13T20:54:00.000+01:00

Kew gardens is amazingly beautiful. The plants, the glass sculptures, the serenity, and the breathtaking buildings.

Well I thought they were breathtaking, but my two female chums seemed to be too busy nattering to notice! Yes, ok, ok they were old friends and hadn't seen each other for five years but still, I mean, come on! There's a time and place! For goodness sake!

Obviously I felt the need to share my world with them.

"Do you know something interesting about this building?" I said in the Temperate House.

"Err go on" they replied with that tolerant smile normally reserved for a small child clutching a sticky painting.

"This building was the first major building ever to use wrought iron. If they'd used cast iron there would've been too many columns to make the space inside usable!" I grinned.

"Ah, righto" they said.

"Discovery channel", I said, "It's really cool."

"You have far too much time on your hands."

Hmmm, my quest to impress seemed to have failed...

But they'd missed the point completely: the Temperate House is glorious, but utterly, utterly impossible without nerds!

Yup, Sydney Opera House, Eiffel Tower, Fourth Suspension Bridge, Kew Temperate House, the Superdome... the list is endless, and all glorious buildings that could only be built because some nerd somewhere thought to themselves "I wonder if I can make metal stronger?"

Nerds like totally rock, dude.

Leslie

2005-10-10T00:35:00.000+01:00

In the beginning there was Brighton LeRoc. Ok, so not actually when earth was still warm, but when I started dancing: about 10 years ago.

As an innocent-before-my-years type I fell in love with almost every woman immediately, but that's another story.

No, I want to tell you about the "Flip Flop" - or the "Brighton Sway" as it was known in every other dance club in the South:

Start with the woman facing you, right to right-hand grip: beat 1. step away, 2. bring her towards you and turning, so her back ends up basketed against your front, and grasp her left hand. 3. both sway back, with the right foot, down and up. 4. sway forward down and up. 5. project her to the left. 6. bring back to your front. repeat beats 3 to 6 three times and exit.

Intermediate move, takes about 20 mins to teach a whole class. Kindof a fun move as the cuddly stuff gets everyone giggling.

No worries.

So three months in was my first freestyle night and I'm dancing with Leslie. Ah Leslie, slightly older, nicely buxom and a lovely smile.

Yum.

Dancing away, dance diddly dance, Throgmorton is doing a not-a-bad job of remembering all the moves crammed into the old brain-box.

Splendid.

And here comes the Flip-Flop: project out, right-to-right, and bring in - at this point I remember I'm wearing loose trousers and boxer shorts. How do I known this? Because Leslie's lovely, firm, rounded buttocks have just clenched themselves snugly, tightly and firmly each side of Mister Wibbly...

beat 3. Down and Up

eek

4. Down and Up

meep

5. project to the left

Time is beginning to slow down... Not enough for me to do anything about what's going, but long enough for Brain Command to panic at the realisation of what Trouser Command is beginning to think:

Trouser Command: "phwoor, yum"

Brain Command: "what do you mean 'yum'?"

TC: "I mean YUM, what else do you think I mean?"

BC: "But I know what you're like when you think 'yum'!"

TC: "ooh yeah, I'll say"

BC: "nooooooo..."

6. Bring back to the front - aaaand clench! Again!!

repeat 3. Down and Up

BC: "Arghhh no!!!" (as Trouser Command begins to get - how shall we say - 'a bit perky') "No! Down boy, down!"

TC: "Why?"

4. Down and Up

TC: "heh heh heh"

and as Leslie flips to the left again all my strangely sweating brow can now think is "NOO, it's going to happen a third time! And I can't stop it!!!"

But the funny thing is, there's no punchline to this story... With a deft flick of the hips Mister not-quite-so-Wibbly-any-more is placed harmlessly against Leslie's left bum-cheek and nothing was ever said. By either of us. Ever.

Never saw much of her again though :-(

Oh well.

I've done many things in the dance scene since then, but I'll never forget Leslie...

Thanks for all the fish

2005-10-06T21:45:00.000+01:00

Just like Wagon Wheels, the push-button room at the science museum was a lot smaller than I remember. But I hadn't been there for nearly thirty years and only went recently after doing the job-interview thing in London. It was a good idea: the whole museum and the exhibits are absolutely magnificent and definitely worth half a day of anyone's time.

The reason I'd gone, though, was to see the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy exhibit – yes I know, it's sad and about time I grew up blah blah blah but H2G2 is really deep ok! :-)

Unfortunately the exhibit was a bit disappointing and has now closed. After paying the outrageous eight quid something to get in, there was a sequence of promising rooms each depicting a scene from the movie. But they were all fairly static and sparse – lots of missed opportunities for interaction or, at least, active exhibits, and several blank stretches of wall.

A bit of a let down.

Except for just one poster:

"Probability is very hard for most humans to understand. That's why there are many people who smoke but will avoid some foodstuffs because of the additives."

Written by Douglas Adams and worth the entrance price alone it should be the foreword on every maths textbook...

Unfortunately I didn't memorise the exact wording and haven't found the quote in Google yet. If anyone out there has a pointer to the full quote please leave a comment :-)

Pyjama Club no more

2005-09-27T16:53:00.000+01:00

Throgmorton has been "between contracts" since the beginning of July. Ugh. I've had a couple of close calls at finding that four letter word "work" but, at 38, I was deemed too old* for one job and "over qualified" for another.

For goodness sake!!!

But humanity has smiled on me: sent CV to Pan Galactic Corporate Bank on Friday, phone interview on Monday, three face-to-face inna-row today and I'm gainfully employed in their Krellian Relays department (all bar the paperwork).

Woohoo.

Of course it's always a shame to actually have to work for a living - no more duvet-days 5 days a week** listening to the rather excellent Radio 4***. Though I have of course jinxed it all by writing about it so soon...

Ps.

It's completely impossible to be grumpy while listening to Hayseed Dixie :-)

* "line manager" straight out of nappies who felt intimidated by the possibility of a team member with actual experience...

** no I'm not a chav scrounger: being a Ltd Company service contractor means I can claim absolutely no benefits what-so-ever (as fas as I've known) - that really, really means zero income between jobs!

** Andrew Marr is a particularly fine example of super-hero geekdom

Squeak squeak

2005-09-22T02:27:00.000+01:00

It's science Thursday. Let's talk about the subconscious.

I was given a plant cutting. No idea what it's called but it's a water-grass, which means it has to be kept constantly wet. Not just damp like a normal plant, but soaked. Constantly.

Which was a problem 'cos I'm forgetful. The chances of me remembering to water it every day were roughly zero. Ok, actually zero.

So I tried to figure out a solution. Wracked my brain I did.

And all I could think of was hamsters.

Hamster, hamsters, hamsters! I'd apply myself to water and plants and all I'd get was hamsters.

For three days! Bloody hamsters!

So "bugger this" I thought and just stood and watched the little scamps. Jumping and frollicking amongst my lobes, scratching in the sawdust, snuffling their little hamstery noses, drinking from the water bottle.

AH!!!

Drinking from the upside-downey water bottle thingies!

So now the plant has an extra large saucer with a stone and an upside-down bottle that only needs filling once a fortnight.

And that, Dear Reader, is the creative power of the subconscious.

Some may think messages like that are the word of a god, the touching of His Noodly Appendages, or the effects of a highly powerful pattern-matching network.

But I know it's my inner Hamster.

Do you want noodles with that?

2005-09-16T01:32:00.000+01:00

Throgmorton is getting hungry. "Mmmmmm, steak, jacket spuds and veg."

Looks in fridge. No spuds.

Looks in freezer. No chips.

Throgmorton stands in the middle of the kitchen wishing he'd been to the shops more often.

Ah! Noodles!

Finds preserved gingers in the fridge - "Best before 1999" but they still look and smell ok. Tomatoes, well some of them aren't mouldy and some red pepper that's not too squidgy.

Red onions, ooh they're actually fresh!

Stir-fry Beef with Ginger and Peppers is born, yay...

Must go to the shops...

You believe in WHAT?!

2005-09-15T02:22:00.000+01:00

Hell in a handbasket

Radio 4 yesterday included giving air-time to people protesting the new play Paul at the National Theatre. While I support people's right the their opinion, I feel I must object to this one.

There's a difficult balance to be drawn here. While Trust-me-Tony is encouraging the UN to ban all incitements of terrorism, which may or may not be a good thing, invoking the spectre of blasphemy outlaws any critique or analysis at all of any belief! This must be wrong - if any belief, proof, truth or whatever is worth anything then it can only be strengthened by inspection...

I think I'm going to try to make Thursdays "Science and Philosophy" day - which is really just an excuse to dust off my full-blown, number 3 soap box...

In the beginning

"But atheism is just a belief too which makes it a religion" they say with the self satisfied, smug sneer of the ignorant who think they've just made A Really Good Point.

As a strong atheist I have to disagree with this - science is the search for truth and proof after all, there's no space for belief (well, not as a proof anyway even though lots of hypotheses start out as hunches of course). Besides, it's not belief I object to just super-natural explanations.

But, unable to ignore a puzzle, a lot of sitting on the toilet, having showers and other good thinking times were spent on the problem: "What is the one irreducible belief an atheist needs?"

I think it's this:

The constancy of nature.

I don't mean that nature is unchanging, just that the way it behaves doesn't alter for no, or other supernatural, reason. If the apple falls from the tree today then it fell the same way yesterday and will fall the same way tomorrow.

This follows Occams razor nicely and all the other observations and laws of science seem to fall out from it. Newton's First Law of Motion is this constancy of Nature in a nutshell.

But that doesn't give us much moral guidance, so how about:

Do unto others as you'd have them do unto you.

Great, the smallest assumption possible and just one rule. We'll see how that works out in future posts...

2005-09-14T00:47:00.000+01:00

Things I've learnt while being a passenger:

1. I get more queasy than I used to

2. I make comments like "ohh, I'm seeing a lot more out of the windows now"...

3. ...while my chums make helpful comments like "well perhaps if you hadn't been driving so fast"

4. and at least half of my friends go la la la tiddly um te tum while they're parking

amazing, I wonder if I ever did that.

Go buy tickets

2005-09-13T00:11:00.000+01:00

I've joined the Southgate College Opera. They (we) are putting on Die Fledermaus on 17 November - Saturday 19 November 2005 at Wyllyotts Centre, Potters Bar.

Great fun.

Go buy tickets it will be superb even if I say so myself:-)

This, that and the other

2005-09-12T01:58:00.000+01:00

A friend was giving me a lift to dancing.

yap

She's extremely intelligent and I really like her

yap yappity

particularly her ability

yap yap yap

to entertain us both

yappity yap

all the way there

"yappity yappity yap yap yappity ooh, what's this" she says confused at a road junction we've done dozens of times before...

Which we agreed proved that, despite the myth, women cannot multitask.

What they do do though, in computing terms, is Rapid Context Switching which just looks like multitasking *

It's true, human beings really can only pay attention to one thing at a time no matter what the gender.

Men, on the other hand, can sometimes get so highly focused that only the Non Maskable Interrupts of beer, nooky or telly can distract them.

Well, that's not strictly true. Men think about sex every 6 seconds yes (heh, real men can do it quicker!) so that, plus what ever else they're doing at the time... now that's real multitasking!

* for extra flame-bait we could conjecture how well you can do anything if you're that easily interrupted... :-)

All Hail His Noodly Appendages

2005-09-09T01:31:00.000+01:00

Two posts in one day?

Well I'm so in debt to Scary Duck for pointing me at this theory of Intelligent Design that I couldn't wait!

This site would be the funniest thing ever if the Kansas school board and President Forest Gump weren't so scary...

More info on Wikipedia

Driving

2005-09-08T20:57:00.000+01:00

Sage Throgmorton Wallop-Wallop II (aka Dad the magistrate) sent me the following in response to my original email about getting banned from driving.

Dear Throgmorton Jnr,

Three weeks gone already. It will soon be the end of January.

I liked your letter re the case. I can picture it exactly. For most of the defendants, such as yourself, it is the first time they have been in court. For the magistrates, they have seen it hundreds of times. Mind you, we don't see what goes on outside the courtroom.

'Grey' is the court Clerk or Legal Advisor, and was there to help you as you were not represented.

Would you have got off the ban if you were represented? I doubt it. It would have been a £250 gamble and the points would have stayed with you until they became three years old. As it is, although your new licence will show the points you have already, they will not be relevant for 'totting' purposes. Remember to apply for a new licence one month before the ban ends. You are not allowed to drive legally until you have your new licence. Now is the time when you find who your real friends are.

Seriously, though, do not be tempted to drive whilst disqualified. The penalties are not as severe as they were three or four years ago. Then, it was prison nearly every time. Now, unless it is linked with another offence e.g. drink driving, you will get a Community Penalty which will probably be unpaid work but may include a curfew or be made to attend a course on driving. It is likely your ban will be extended. In your case, if you commit any offence within three months of the court appearance, you will be liable to be punished for the speeding offence as well.

Just to remind you, your car must be insured even if remains parked in the road for the next six months. Otherwise you are liable for a £200 fixed penalty fine and six points on your licence, and these points will stay with you after the ban is over.

Trying to sign of in a lighter vein, you could become a drug dealer and drive a stolen car with new plates and a false address but, when you are caught, Severe and Portly will be replaced by a man in fancy dress with a wig and he will neither apologise nor smile as he sends you down for five years.

Now you know where I get my sense of humour from :-)

Does my bum look big in this?

2005-09-05T01:12:00.000+01:00

7 words that no man ever wants to hear! Even the strongest is reduced to sphincter clenching paralysis by that phrase.

So when I heard it I tried to be clever:

Me: "I really hate that question 'cos I know there's no right answer, so I'm not saying anything."

gf of the time: "What? You mean it's that bad!"

AAARGHH!!!

I'm in trouble for SAYING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING AT ALL!

What is it with you women and bums anyway? I heard on the TV the other day that "curves are in this season" which was a surprise to me as I thought they'd always been in!

The Women's and gossip mags aren't unanimous about this yet though. It does seem that, for some of them at least, skinny is the new missing septum but the rest are still sporting the usual crop of shapeless stick figures that drive a million teenage girls to anorexia.

Do you want a hint? Just look upwards and along a bit to the "Adult" section... Great big piles of T&A* everywhere! By real women with big curves (who can earn stacks of cash just for getting their kit off) for, err, men (and some other women too).
That's why you can get porn mags called Hooters, Butts and Big Mamas but never Skinny Bitch Monthly!

So back to the real world. When faced with the Question Of Death:

"Does my bum look big in this?"

the correct manly-man answer is of course:

"Phwoor yeah I'll say. Yum."

(and then beg for mercy :-)

* "Teeth and Attitude" obviously. What else?

A daytrip to Portsmouth...

2005-09-04T22:08:00.000+01:00

...Magistrate Court (a play in 3 acts - and only exaggerated a little bit, honest)

Intro

Ok so I often drive, how shall I say, um, swiftly. But safely. I reckon. Two second gap, stop in the distance you can see and all that. Never had any problems - ok OK! so a close encounter with just ONE gatepost, but that was 17 years ago and due to youthful enthusiasm (stupidity) so, hem yes well we've all done that eh? - and very few comments from friends and other trusted opinions and I'd even slowed done a lot in recent years. So no worries. Sue me. Which, after the fourth camera flash, H.M.Gov decided to do. In Portsmouth no less.

Nuts.

Act 1: Bodes not well.

I'd only got back from a Jive holiday 2 days earlier so the body clock was, ah, well I didn't have one any more... The nearly 4 hour journey to Portsmouth for the 9:30 appointment ("Don't drive there" is the sage advice from Dad the Magistrate...) means setting alarm clocks for 4am!

Though can't sleep until 2am. Ugh.

I miss the train I wanted by ONE MINUTE! GODAMMIT! and sit dejected on the platform. This is NOT going well. Chances of "getting let off due to winning smile and all-round decentness" fading into "contempt of court for showing up late you oik". But then I remember that I know I'm useless and had tricked myself into aiming for a train before the one I actually needed (if you follow). Woohoo, all smiles again!

Hauling ones carcase about the country seems supremely pointless though some of the views are nice. Thank the Lords of all Nerds (Page, Brin and Berners-Lee) for iPods and the light reading of Terry Pratchett is all I can say...

Arriving in Portsmouth I yomp over to Anglesea Road, the scene of my latest indiscretion, with 20 minutes to go. H.M.Police had sent me a delightful portrait earlier - "it's a goddam dual-carriage way" I'd thought calmly (yeah right) at the time "what the &^%&**^! is that doing a 30MPH!!!" - so I wanted to check it out.

Ok, so it is in the middle of town, but there's a central fence for goodness sake! But behind the HUGE 10-line directions sign, and the even HUGER illuminated, parking-spaces sign are the two itsy-wincy teeny weeny itty bitty 30mph & camera signs - all perfectly conforming to road specs.

Bollocks*

As a previous research fellow in usability I know they couldn't have hidden the speed stuff more effectively if they'd tried!!!

Double bollocks!!! Argh! Fiddlesticks! Fudge.

Despondent I trudge off...

2. Department of Information Retrieval

I get to H.M. Court bang on time - it's easy to spot for the gaggle of shifty guys taking their last nervous drag on a cigarette outside...

There's a queue to get in as we're searched and X-rayed and then sign in. The yoof in front of of me couldn't be more cocky.

"What's your solicitor's name" says the guard

"Oh, dunno, Sophie something" says yoof.

"Yes, I know" says guard "court number 6 it's..." he trails off to the back of yoof as he swaggers off mid instruction.

Guard mutters under breath and regains composure to direct me. I'm inna-suit so he smiles.

"That was court 7 you said yeah" butts in the returning yoof.

"What? No, court 6, it's just down..." but yoof has swaggered off again.

The guard doesn't swear. I'm impressed. He just suggests to me that yoof is welcome to wait at court 7 "'cos there isn't one" and grins at the prospect of a regular customer getting banged up soon...

I'm directed to court 8 and the waiting starts.

And continues.

And continues.

I'm thinking the suit is overkill. I'm the only one apart from the lawyers. Everyone else is cheap shirts or black jumpers (do you WANT to look like a burgler) earings and chewing gum and, I'm truly sorry, but the guy with the wife and girlfriend pushing a pram really does look like an ape. I'm sorry, it's just true.

The waiting room is just the corridor outside the courts. I'm sure it was majestic once what with the globe chandelier and marble insets, but nearly all the hands and some the numbers being missing from the clocks and the addition of "Pay your fine or else" posters blue-tacked to the walls has spoilt it somewhat. Also the cafe is a hole in the wall selling crisps, "squash 15p" and cuppa-soups.

It's not actually horrible, which the word "unpleasant" would imply, it just has the complete lack of anything nice...

As my brain is starting to swim from the shear tedium of it all I'm raised from my slumber by the booming intercom "THROGMORTON WALLOP-WALLOP TO COURT EIGHT"...

3. Whoosh

Panic. Argh. Need-to-make-good-impression - Stuff book into briefcase, rip battery out of phone, push on door clearly marked pull and crash into courtroom.

It's barren.

Except for the HUGE Kubrick-esq slablike table confronting me with a grey (he can only be described as grey) guy opposite and the two Lord High Executioners perched vulture like atop his shoulders.

Ok, an old geezer and biddy on a raised platform, but hey first impressions...

I don't have a clue what to do.

I guess it showed.

"Please put down your briefcase and remain standing" said Grey. Ohh, so he's the important one. Great. Now I know who to talk to, though the vultures are eyeing me up keenly - hmm, to see where the juicy bits are I guess.

After a quick confirmation of name and address un-noticed Blue Suited Woman on the right of Slab Table just starts burbling on in an dreary, utterly, utterly dreary dreary monotone. I guess she's the prosecution. "February" Mmm, young and quite nice too "Calibra" though with the makings "36" of a wart on her nose (I'm not making this up) "excess". The room's surprisingly nice as well "slightly above" formal but nicely kept wood paneling etc. "speed limit".

BOLLOCKS! She's talking about me! Eek. Oops. Replay monotone speech in head. Err, yeah, ok Guv, got me bang to rights really.

Grey man comments that I've already indicated a guilty plea and does that still stand? "Err, yeah, yes that's correct". Me? Flustered? Ptchaw.

So we move on to Mitigating Circumstance and Grey reads out what I'd written (without my tongue sticking out or anything!) on H.M.Gov's original threatening forms.

Hmm, only slightly feeble. Not too bad. I can tell what's going on but still don't have a clue what to do.

Prosecution wants to "clarify some points".

Err, righto.

Grey gets me in the dock and I swear an oath and everything. Coo. I declare I'm an atheist so I don't get a bible - boo hiss this isn't like the films at all...

Grey turns to Vultures and starts Explaining Stuff. AH! THOSE are the magistrates - formal and severe old woman and also severe portly ex-colonel avuncular port-and-brandy type! Couldn't be more of a caricature, where do they get them from**! And Grey seems to be on my side after all. Cool, I'm warming to him. It turns out he's the Clerk - or "legal expert" as Severe and Portly call him - and, having recognised my lack of, well anything really, he's taking on the job of keeping everything straight. Groovy.

Lots of questions all round about current lack of employment - and prosecution very pleasantly and gently cuts me off at the knees by spotting that I'm not that badly off actually, oh well. Grey explains to Severe and Portly the law and the difference between "hardship" and "undue hardship"...

Severe and Portly actually take on a slightly despaired mood while whispering to each other. I can overhear phrases like "reduced sentence", and "three months" etc. while Grey takes away my license with two hands and the utmost deference of a Japanese businessman accepting a card.

But I know the end is nigh.

All four of them almost apologise to me. But phrases like "hands are tied" are offered and I'm banned for 6 months.

Fuck fuck fuck bollocks fuck***

Oh well.

Being in the pyjama club brings one benefit. They execute a nifty legal fudge so I get a 3 month conditional discharge or some such in lieu of any fine and costs! Cool, silver lining and all that.

Nods all round and I'm out.

Probably took 10-15 mins, felt like two.

I'm not sticking around, back on the train as quick as poss. and escape into the gentle sarcasm of Prophet Terence...

On another thought I was reading a Donal MacIntyre interview about teenage drug dealers "They all drive without licenses, insurance, tax, anything. If they get stopped they give a false name and address and it rarely gets followed up..." but because I'm mostly law abiding I can't drive for 6 months.

And getting banned for doing 36 in a 30 zone seems fucking harsh.

And if anyone feels like giving me a lift to dancing I'd be grateful...

* Hmm, my Mum's reading this...

** Hi Dad

*** Hi Mum ;-)

Postscript

Would I have done anything different?****

Yes, get a solicitor. In my case I'm sure it wouldn't have made a blind bit of different - I could have argued a case about the signs being effectively hidden but it would have been a very difficult argue and no doubt the signs conformed to rules and regs and that was that - but I might have had more piece of mind knowing that all the right things were said at the right time.

**** well apart from speeding that is, as an old colleague said "won't take long to collect more points" %-> %-> Maybe I'll book up another Silverstone Ferrari day for the 2nd Feb 2006... ;-) ;-)

Post-postscript

This is a slightly edited version of an email I sent to a bunch of chums. They read it and several urged me to start writing a book "The Musings of Throgmorton" or some such!!! Well, I'm too lazy for that (and I don't have a story) but since then I've seen or done several things and thought "that'd make a good blog rant"! I have several in mind to begin with and then we'll see...

My friends might not realise quite what they've created...