Sorted, bruv, sorted

Well the bathroom was finally finished last night (aside from the painting and the flooring which will commence over the weekend) and it was time to crack open a bottle of red and re-acquaint ourselves with the Sky+ box.

I see the Mitchell brothers are back in Eastenders this week, and I'd forgotten how much this show requires a couple of knuckle-draggers like Phil and Grant.  They really do inject some much needed comedy into the show (whether that's intentional or not, I'm not entirely sure, but its a blessing nonetheless). 

I mean this week is "Get Johnny Week" (actually not about a trip to the pharmacy to purchase durex), and it's supposed to be all high-drama and excitement, but I've just found the whole week to be a right giggle.  It appears that the ape-like Mitchell brothers have evolved just about enough so that they don't spend the entire 30 minute duration of the show grooming and slinging pooh at each other, but not quite enough to actually walk fully upright or get through a scene without bashing their skulls together. 

Anyway the whole plot this week has been all stuff and nonsense, (not that it really mattered as a complicated, involved plot would have confused my addled brain anyways)  but it passed an entertaining half-an-hour after the real drama of getting the bathroom finished!!!

The track "Hot Shot City" is particularly good.

Can you believe there are now 979 customer reviews of Hoff's Greatest Hits album on Amazon.Com.

They're still funny, if you've got time to read them all - particularly pay attention to the reviewers names..

The track "Hot Shot City" is particularly good.

Clicky

Trip down memory lane

In order to calm myself after all the bathroom hassle I decided to check out the things that used to make me chortle when I used to surf the web for trivial shite..

Come on you must remember the fun we had with the badgers, in Kuala Lumpar, in Kenya and singing along to the Poo And Wee Song.

However, my favourite will always be Weebl And Bob.. Enjoy!

Not out of the woods yet..

So yesterday evening I was quite a happy bunny, admiring our freshly grouted tiles and thinking: "brilliant, this actually was worth the inconvenience, the mess, the hassle and the cash.  This bathroom looks fantastic and we've not even completely finished yet".  We set off to B&Q (other DIY stores are available) and bought things like shower rails and curtain, vinyl floor tiles, a mirror, and some testers so we could finally see what colour the walls are going to be (looks like it going to be "Water" from the B&Q bathroom paint range (other bathroom paint is available), which is kind of a cyan, aqua-mariney shade). 

It was all going to well, wasn't it?
I should have known..

Because this bathroom is becoming such a saga, I'm amazed it isn't penned by J.R.R Tolkien.

So the evening rolled on and the father-in-law-to-be comes round to help put up the fixtures for us.. The funky frosted glass shelf and mirror go up with a bit of effort, but not too much hassle.  Next up is the shower rail and curtain which is a faff (because it means lots of drilling whilst stood on a slippery bath) but, again, seems to go okay. 

So after the major stuff is done, I leave for a moment to grab a drink whilst my better half discusses the best place to put the shower basket. 

A shower basket? 

Oh don't ask.  It's basically a chrome holder-thingy which is for people who think they're above having to reach down to retrieve their bottle of shampoo from the side of the bath, but want a baskety holder thing halfway up the wall instead.  So, anyway, they agree on a location for this basket, time to drill some holes..

Driillllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
"There's one hole."
Driillllll...
"Argh!"

Argh?

Now if there's one expression you don't want to hear when someone is drilling into your bathroom wall, indeed drilling into your lovely new tiles is Argh (and, arguably, "Bollocks" and "Shite", too.  But on this occasion it was Argh!).

Thinking "Oh no, a tile's been cracked" but also, smugly, thinking "that's okay we've got two thirds of a pack of tiles left" we went into the bathroom to investigate, Scooby Doo stylee, only to see water pissing out of the wall.  The drill had gone right through the cold water pipe up to the shower.

Aww... fuck..

We quickly turned the water off, and then began the process of ripping tiles off the wall.  You remember those tiles, yeah?  Those were the freshly grouted and shiny tiles I was admiring earlier.  And of course, the pipe had been sunk into the wall, so it was not just tile we had to go through to get to the pipe, oh hell no.. 

I looked on at the chaos around me and was genuinely lost for words.. I also really, really, really wanted a cigarette (it's a good thing I hadn't kept a secret stash or knew anyone nearby who still smoked I can tell you).

Luckily a plumber was quickly located and the pipe was repaired, but now we are looking at another night of chaos whilst the section underneath the shower is re-tiled and re-grouted..

Next time "Home Improvements" are mentioned, I'm going to run for the hills I tell you, the only way to improve one's home without dying of stress is to move!!

Smeg

This morning the post man delivered another parcel from Amazon. 
Now before anyone accuses me of wreckless expenditure in what is already proving to be a costly month (what with Car Tax, Car Service, Car M.O.T, New Bathroom, etc, etc), I should point out that this delivery represented the last of my Amazon vouchers I got for my birthday (which were a spiffing idea seeing as there was nothing I wanted in the shops in January).

So, anyway, Amazon have sent me the final series of Red Dwarf (a.k.a "Red Dwarf VIII") -hurrah!  Of course, the BBC were damn sneaky when they decided to sell the Red Dwarf series on DVD, as they knew that no-one would really want all 8 series (as, to be honest, the show peaked about series 5 and was in a steady decline from that point on, reaching a free-fall by the end of series seven). 

So in order to encourage you to buy all 8 (apart from the fact that this series comes on 3 discs and the extras alone run to 350 minutes (two hours longer than the shows)!), they decided to put the Red Dwarf logo all the way down the spine of all 8 DVD boxes.. So without all 8 series you couldn't complete the logo, and therefore your DVD collection would just look pants when it was sat on your shelf (or so an anally retentive completist freak would have you believe anyway).

Actually, I cannot remember anything beyond the first episode of this series (specifically the scene where StarBug flies up a giant rat's arse).  Now whether this is because I never saw them or because my mind has deleted them from my brain to erase a painfully bad memory, I'm not sure.. So, at present, I don't know whether the show went out with a bang or a whimper.. But I guess I'll find out at some point this week.

If nothing else, one of the extras is an episode of the BBC's excellent "Comedy Connections" series.  "Comedy Connections", if you've not seen it, traces where all the cast and writers of a particular show did before and after the programme they are covering, and is usually very entertaining (and I don't think I've seen the Red Dwarf episode either) - so that's a plus anyway.

Loo Progress

Day Four:



Day Five:



Nearly there.. the nightmare is nearly over!!

YAY!

++UPDATE++ ++UPDATE++ ++UPDATE++

Day Six


It's still not done.. arse

Yarr.. My God, No!! - Alt+F4!! Alt+F4!!

If you've been to the the stag night blog recently, you'll see that we've been discussing pirates. Well more specifically dressing up like pirates on the stag night (and ending up in Rock World)..

Anyway discussion of this idea, lead to a conversation about "International Talk Like A Pirate Day" - which has the URL of http://www.yarr.org.uk. However, I couldn't remember the URL exactly to a slightly differnet URL. As a result, all we can say is never, ever go to http://www.yarr.org - it's just wrong!

So, remember - be careful with URL's they can cost lives.. well, eyesight anyway!!

It pays to complain..

Over the weekend it was Mother's Day (Did you remember?  Oh, well done). 
If "Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares" has taught me anything it's that, along with Valentine's Day, Mothering Sunday is one of the busiest days in the restaurant calendar.  So we had booked, quite early on, to go to the local Beefeater restaurant.  Now I know Beefeater is never going to win any Michelin stars for it's food, but it's not bad, had a reasonably priced Mother's Day menu with some good choices on there, and is reasonably kid friendly.  Also Beefeater do this most amazing Ice Cream dessert that has hot chocolate sauce poured over it and contains mini pieces of fudge and mini-Maltesers which is quite yum.  Anyway, my better half was quite looking forward to it which, on that particular day, was all that mattered really.

Now all had begun swimmingly, we'd been shown to our table, our order had been taken promptly, the drinks had arrived quickly (always a good sign) and starters were all well and good..

..and then things all went horribly wrong.
Now, the missus is pregnant (as regular readers will know) and one of the downsides of this is that she's not allowed to have her steak rare anymore (something about it having to be cooked properly so as not to risk anything harming the baby).  However I have no such concerns, so had ordered my steak rare as anything (just show it the flame for a few minutes.  In fact bring me a live cow, I'll slice off what I want and ride the rest home).  Both of us quite fancied the Barbeque sauce with our steak though..

Now when the steaks turned up we immediately spotted one problem.. there was no Barbeque sauce on either, but this may have been a blessing in disguise.. as when I cut into my steak it was clear that mine was severely overdone (well at least medium well done) and when she cut into hers it was like a scene from "The Texas Chainsaw Massacre" as blood spilled out onto the plate.

However this wasn't the problem.. at this point, nothing had to be ruined..  We shrugged, said "Oh dear, they've got the steaks mixed up" and called the waitress over.  All we wanted was for our meals to be changed and the whole incident would have passed unnoticed.

But, oh no, first this waitress tried to argue with us and say we'd got it wrong, until we clearly demonstrated the two differences.. and then she, really shirtily, said she'd get the kitchen to sort it out.  So we were a little unimpressed at this point, you don't expect to be argued with when you have a genuine mistake on your hands, but never mind.. We were a bit annoyed but nothing getting our meal right wouldn't fix.

But, oh no, the restaurant didn't know when to quit when it was ahead..
Next we get this young snotty upstart of a restaurant manager coming over to us next, and at first I'm daft enough to think "Ahh.. here comes an apology, at least".  But oh no, this guy starts to argue with us too, and then has the audacity to begin criticising the missus for not ordering a well done steak whilst she was pregnant.  This, needless to say, upsets her a great deal and I wanted to chin the git.  We left at that point, very, very angry and wondering where the hell we were going to get a Mother's Day meal now..

To cut a long story short, we did find another restaurant and eventually did get a nice meal.
But all day I was really annoyed at the way we'd been treated and spoken to at the Beefeater, and it kinda ate away at me..

So, finally, I went on the internet.. there was no way to Contact anyone on the Beefeater site, but it did mention on there that the Beefeater were part of the Whitbread chain.. Right then, off to http://www.whitbread.co.uk where I proceeded to write a calm, but suitably snotty, complaint mail. 

I must have struck a nerve though, as I got a grovelling phone call yesterday from the restaurant manager apologising (funny, if he's just done that in the first place none of this would have happened).  Now I'm only guessing, but I do reckon that someone from Whitbread head office fired a rocket up the manager's arse in response to my mail, hence this amazing U-turn in apology policy.  We've been offered the standard complimentary meal by way of apology, which I'm not actually sure we're going to use (as we're both pretty annoyed at Beefeater), but at least it does show that complaining can get results!!

Potty Mouth

Well, got to the bottom of my eBay-listing-not-showing-up-in-the-search problem, as ebay finally sent me an email. Unfortunately the response was too late for me to make any changes, as the auction had already finished (D'oh!), but at least I now know what to do to make my re-listed item searchable. So, wanna know what the reason was? Allow Mr Ebay to talk you through it:

"Hello,

Thank you for writing to eBay's Customer Support. I understand your
concern as your items are not appearing in the search results after
searching for it in the current listings.

I have looked at your item description and can see that it contains one
or more questionable words. Our system will not index items for search
that have inappropriate language in them. These words in your auction
prevent this indexing. Unfortunately, this problem comes up occasionally
with albums and CDs.

As for e.g. you can take note in the item description of item number
4855565724 "Welcome To Mexico . . . Asshole (CDDVN3)".

To fix this, you will have to remove the words or accept that the item
won't be searchable. Using asterisks or other symbols and characters to
disguise the word will not work. The system will recognise the attempt,
and if the symbols are in the title, they will break the indexing
attempt anyway.""

So because the name of one of the Pigface albums was "Welcome To Mexico..Asshole" you could not search for it on eBay. D'oh! Fortunately I have now censored my listing so people can now search for it - and as a result to there are already possible bidders "watching" the auction.

It is interesting though that eBay had no such problems allowing people to search for my "Revolting Cocks" CDs.. So an asshole is worse than a cock, eh?

Anyway, have a new batch of auctions on there this week (as I spent the proceeds of last weeks auctions at the LFC shop before the derby on Saturday), so hopefully a few more pennies will be going in the "Baby K" fund this week!

Things that have been good this week..

Well it's Friday, and I don't want to end the week on a bum note, on a downer, on a pessimistic vibe.  I want everyone to leave this post with a happy, smiley disposition, not leave feeling glum and depressed..

So good things that have happened this week..

I've not got lurgy. 
This is nothing short of amazing actually as everyone else at home is ill.. I am surrounded with sneezing, coughing and spluttering each evening and since Tuesday I have been convinced that my immune system would be overrun with lurgy related organisms.. However, so far so good (touch wood), I have remained lurgy free..

I finished "V for Vendetta".
Of course I'm talking about the Graphic Novel, and I enjoyed it immensely.. It had a very different ending to the movie, but this is not necessarily a bad thing, and I cannot decide which version of the tale I like better (why should I? I like them both!).  Anyway, was an excellent read..

Scott Mills Daily Podcasts.
The true saviour of Radio One, Scott Mills, finally has his own podcasts! Hurrah!  You get, on average, two a day and each podcast is about five minutes long (so they're quick to download).  Already there's been some classic phone fun (Scott phoning up the Insurance company to get holiday insurance and then going on to be hit by lightning four times - hilarious).  Check out the radio one website for details..

The FA Cup draw.
Bring 'em on.  I want to spoil Chavski's party - who's with me?

Enjoy your weekend folks.. (don't forget Mother's Day this Sunday)

Day Three

It doesn't look there's been much progress here does there..?



Well, actually, all of the areas that are going to be painted (as opposed to tiled - not being fully tiled this time) have been skimmed with plaster now.

Additionally the bath and sink are now fully fitted with taps and waste bits (or the plughole to you and me) and are ready to be fitted, along with the new loo tomorrow.. (which, unlike the bowl we have at the moment, will actually flush - hurrah!!). With any luck we should be able to use the bath (carefully) over the weekend and the whole tiling job should be complete Monday or Tuesday.

After that we can start getting the house back to normal - and my blood pressure will start to subside!!

On a separate note, wrote to eBay.. here's the response so far:

"Thank you for writing to eBay Customer Support,

Your question is very important to us and will be treated with our full
attention and respect for your needs. If you have received this
auto-response, your email has been received, and it is not necessary for
you to resend it. "

Blah, blah, blah.. your question is important to us my ARSE!

Meanwhile no-one is bidding on Pigface (boo!)

J.A.T.T.A

Or.. Just Another Tedious Thursday Afternoon.

I find myself short on inspiration today, I am neither enthusiastic or annoyed particularly by anything whatsoever.. I'm "running on empty", lacking vim and vigour..

I grow increasingly concerned about my eBay auctions.. When I do a search for "Carcass" on eBay, I can see my auction for Carcass CDs listed there.. However when I do a similar search for "Pigface" or "S.O.D" I cannot see my auctions.  Have had a look at them and I cannot see why this should be so (it's not because they've not had a bid either, as my "Garbage" and "Prodigy" auctions are shown), and I've tried modifying the options to get them redisplayed in the search, but this doesn't work either.  So lord knows what's going on?

At least it's Friday tomorrow..

Day Two

Well, there are some developments today as you can see, there isn't quite as much exposed brickwork as there was yesterday. Additionally, the house isn't quite as covered in as much dusty shit as when we got home yesterday, which is nice..

Apart from the toilet bowl and a few exposed taps, however, there isn't actually a lot to give away the fact that it is a bathroom that the above photo was taken in. Anyway, at least I can see some progress.. Although hope is fading of having this anywhere near done by the end of the weekend (which is bollocks, really).

Still, although I only got around four hours sleep last night (due to the unborn son or daughter giving my better half painful indigestion all night which kept both of us awake, albeit me indirectly) I am in a slightly more chipper mood today.

You see, despite it taking all day to get a result with what I'm doing at work at the moment, I think I'm beginning to make real progress with that now, so that's good. It's been sunny all day (although it's still a little chilly, but it's not bad for March), so that's good. Got my Car Tax sorted on line, so that's good and I'm still rejoicing after seeing the reds score seven against Brum last night (in case you hadn't guessed from the previous posts!!!), so that's good. So quite a lot of things are good at the moment.

What is surprising is that there are so many eager Carcass and Paradise Lost fans on eBay as these auctions are doing really well at the moment. However all quiet on the Prodigy, Garbage, Pigface and S.O.D lots so far - boo! Does no-one remember how good "Suck" and "Speak English Or Die" are??? Shame!

Seven!

No Seven's the magic number..

Seven!

You know..

Seven Seven's

Seven Eleven..

Seven chipmunks, twirling on a branch,
eating lots of sunflowers on my uncle's ranch..

You remember that old children's tale from the Sea!!

It's like you're talking Gorgonzola, when it's clearly Brie time Baby!!!


Step into my office!
Why?
Cos you're fuckin' fired

Day One

Just about a pot to piss in..

K's new wheels

Picked up K's wheels yesterday at a bargain price..

If you go to the Toys R Us website they're flogging this for about £139.99, but we got it for £89.99. So, yes, as you might have guessed most of the boot sale money is disappearing. But we'd have would have had to get one anyway and it's not cost out of our own pocket's yet, really.

Just don't tell my mother we have it for God's sake, she believes it to be bad luck to have a pram in the house before the nipper is born (and me pointing out it's not a pram, it's a travel system, won't cut any ice at all). Superstition eh? Cannot beat it!

Sigh..

So, back to work today.. boo! hiss!
Motivation levels are about zero point zero four.

Add to this the fact that I was supposed to be returning to work content with the knowledge that I had a valid MOT certificate for my car (as the brum-brum is coming up to three years old now, so it needs one) and indeed I had said vehicle booked in for a test yesterday.  But when I went to collect it, it seemed that the new central computerised system for recording MOT test results and details had crashed.  Completely.  Nationwide.  No MOTs at all yesterday.  So my test could not be carried out as, apparently, they cannot even start the test now if the computer is down.  Call that progress?  'Cos I don't..  So now I have to drop the car off first thing Saturday morning (8 a.m. on a Saturday?  Oh, the humanity!) in order to attempt to get my test done before the government come running after me..

Then, of course, I have a feeling of dread about going home, as today is the first day of the bathroom renovation so I will get home to a building site.  There will be dust, chaos and dirt everywhere.. Not to mention the fact that we'll probably be back to the brickwork in the bathroom by now as it's looking increasingly likely that we're gonna have to put new plaster board in.  How are you supposed to relax in that environment?  I'll have to piss in the middle of a construction zone - for fuck's sake!  And this could go on for five, yes five, days!  Where can I get some Prozac or Valium without a prescription?  Anyone?

Also it sounds like response to the stag night has been a bit luke warm.. with only a few people saying they're going to come along.  (Thanks to those who've mailed back, though - it will be a cracking night out, you can be sure of that!) 

So all in all today is a bit of a bummer..

V For... Very Good, Actually

It's been a while since I've been able to wax lyrical about a movie. But over the weekend we went to see "V For Vendetta" and it was very good indeed.

Now I've not actually read the original graphic novel by Alan Moore and David Lloyd. I always meant to "get around to it", but never actually found the time/energy/motivation to actually go out and get it. And then, of course, when I found out the movie was coming out, I thought I'd see that first as there's nothing worse than being disappointed with a film because you're familiar with the source material (like I know my missus will be disappointed with the DaVinci Code flick as she's just read the book - whilst I'm holding off until after the movie!).

But, no, V For Vendetta was excellent, a very intelligent and slick looking political thriller. Any movie where the opening act is the Old Bailey being blown to smithereens has gotta be good. I'd imagine Daily Mail readers will get all flustered about V walking into a building in "suicide bomber" garb, but if you can get past that, it's brilliant. Highly recommended.

Going once, going twice..

Just a quick note..
I've added auctions on eBay for Carcass, Prodigy and Garbage CDs..
More to follow, and if you like that kind of thing then happy bidding!!

++ UPDATE ++ UPDATE ++
Added three more auctions and that's the lot, 'cos it's a right faff adding all the pictures and track listings onto eBay.
However, if you like Pigface, S.O.D, or Paradise Lost, then there's auctions up there you might be interested in..
Again, happy bidding!

Trading Places

So was it worth it?
Was it worth getting up at 5:10am on a Sunday morning?
Was it worth trudging down to the shower before the heating had kicked in?
Was it worth loading up my car with seven large boxes of books and nearly 300 CDs before the sun had crept over the tops of the trees?
The answer was a resounding YES!



I doubted today would go well, even as we drove up to the Market today I had my doubts (my first fear was that wouldn't get a pitch, due to the fact that we could already see that it was a nice day).. But as soon as I parked the car outside our stall we got early indications that things were going to go well. Before we'd even got anywhere near halfway unloading, there were tonnes of people looking around the boxes (some of which were still in the boot).
In fact the intial interest in the crap we had to sell was a little overwhelming at first. We later found out that first thing in the morning is when professional traders come to snap up the bargains.. hence one bloke bought nearly seventy CDs in a single transaction and another just bought a whole box of paperbacks (about 40 books in all) - and all this was in the first hour!!!
It was a fun day actually, haggling over prices, seeing people browsing through your stuff and getting a very welcome bacon butty about eight o'clock in the morning- bliss.
And, we made about £200 profit and sold most of what we had to get rid of to make way for the nursery. Yeah, we came back with a couple of boxes of books (most of which will be heading to Oxfam tomorrow) and about 100 CDs (which will be a mixture of eBay auctions, and charity shop donations), but we got rid of a lot of crap today and made some cash too! Fantastic!!
Oh and we picked up a little something for the yet unborn baby K too, just to fit in with the theme of "Winnie the Pooh" that we're going for in the nursery:

Purr-fect start to the day... NOT!

So, it's the first day of my long weekend... bliss.
I've been looking forward to this all week.
I roll over and briefly open my eyes and see that already I've slept well past the time I'd normally have to be jumping up and making a mad dash to the shower if this was a normal Friday.
As an additional bonus, despite being very pregnant now, my better half has decided that I need the rest today and so very kindly says I can sleep in whilst she does the school run.
So I get settled, and get comfy, and get ready for a well deserved lie in..
I hear the front door slam as they leave for school..
Ahh.. soon be in the land of nod now..

Just then, however, I hear the bedroom door squeak open..
CRRREEEEEAAAAKKK!
Footsteps pad their way across the bedroom carpet..
pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad
With a muted miaow I am all of a sudden aware that something has jumped onto the bed next to me..
I am not alone.
I dare to open one eye and am confronted with the following stare:


Ahh bejesus..!
It's purring and everything..
Even with my eyes closed I can feel it's piercing stare looking at me, through my closed eyes into my very soul
No matter I'll turn over..
Ahh yes..
That's better.. now where was I? Oh right, one way ticket to the land of nod please..

Just then though, the bedroom door squeaks again..
CRRREEEEEAAAAKKK!
There is more padding across the bedroom carpet..
pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad-pad
Before I know it I can feel that something else has jumped up beside me..
I tentatively open one eye, just a wee bit and am confronted with the following stare:


Ahh bollocks!
I'm surrounded!
This one's purring too..
It's a conspiracy..
They're working in pairs like the Velociraptors in Jurassic Park..
The bastards!

So I'm up now, against my will and earlier than expected having had to make a fuss of two cats for about quarter of an hour. Still, at least it should be quite a relaxing day..

It's only blummin' Friday!!!

Which of course, it isn't, but to me it feels like a Friday as I have booked a long weekend off this weekend.. Ahh, bliss.. Four days without being in work..

Actually can I say that one more time
Four days without being in work..
Fan-fucking-tastic..

Thanks for indulging me on that, it just feels like an eternity since I've had any time away from this place (and everyone else here has had at least one day off, so I felt a bit left out).  So I've got that Friday feeling: yeah baby.  If there was a confectioners nearby, I'd buy a Crunchie.

It's going to be a bit of a busy weekend though, so updates may be sporadic.. (at best!)
See you next Tuesday!

Second Coming

So God scores again at Anfield - and he was also kind enough to do it at the Anfield Road end, right in front of me - Cheers Robbie, lad. You can score in front of the Kop against the toffees, okay?

I predict a riot..

..of goals!!!

Is a Brouhaha worse than a Hullabaloo?

As there was not much else interesting going on, we decided to formalise our "sliding scale of conflict" list.  You see, quite often in the office, during a conversation, someone will make an offhand remark such as "I didn't want to cause a rumpus".  Such a statement invariably leads to at least a five minute discussion as everyone within earshot chips in as to whether a rumpus is worse than a furore and where a fracas fits in to it all.

So today we decided to write out the list, and organise it into some sort of order, so that when people say "Uproar" they can be sure that everyone around them understands that it is more serious than a "Mêlée" but not as serious as a "Rampage". 

(Because clarifying your terminology is important to aid effective communication, kids!) 
Of course, this is also the subject of much heated debate now, as finalising a word's position in the list can sometimes be a contentious issue (I mean, do you agree that a Barney is below a Tussle?).  So although this is not yet the definitive list (was hoping might get some further suggestions in the "Comments" section below) or the definitive order (that debate still rages on around me) here's a first draft:

War
Massacre
Battle
Riot
Rampage
Uproar
Mêlée
Fight
Skirmish
Fracas
Furore
Affray
Hullabaloo
Brouhaha
Rumpus
Ding-Dong
To-do
Struggle
Tussle
Set To
Barney
Clash
Disturbance
Commotion
Kafuffle
Dispute
Clamour
Fuss
Stir
Encounter

Hmph

I apologise to regular readers of this blog, but today we are experiencing some technical difficulties (and I'm not talking about the fucking RSS feed - quite why that's up the swanny again I have no clue).

No, it's just that I'm feeling completely uninspired today I'm afraid, I cannot get any enthusiasm for anything this morning.  I suspect this has something to do with the niggling head cold that I've had for weeks now (ever since, in fact, I quit smoking. Coincidence?), which means for about the third night in the row I've had a crap night's sleep and I've woken up to discover my sinuses are absolutely killing me (again)..

Then, to compound this feeling of cannot be arsed-ness, just look at the weather:  It's damp, it's raining, it's miserable, it's grey.. it's hardly the kind of weather that inspires one to throw open the curtains of a morning and begin singing "Oh, what a beautiful morning" now is it?  (This is, of course, ignoring the fact that if I did do that on any given morning I'd probably be beaten to death with a feather pillow by my very pregnant better half for disturbing her slumber with my awful crooning!!).

It's also not helped by the fact that I have only a tedious Software Specification document waiting to be written when I get into work, and should I complete that I only have tedious bug fixing to be getting on with whilst the aforementioned document goes through the review/approval process.

All in all, it's a bit of a shit day.
So I intend to sit here, drink coffee and scowl for a couple of hours whilst I do battle with Microsoft Word (oh joy of joys!).. Hopefully something will pop up, brighten my day and improve my mood and should that happen, in the immortal words of Arnold Schwarzenegger, "I'll be back" to share the joy.. till then, back to frowning..

Later, peeps

Shot from a canon..

Working in the office environment, such as I do, there's a lot of good-humoured banter to help the working day pass a little bit quicker (and a little less painfully).  Now, I'm going to go out on a limb here and make the following controversial statement: your normal Software Development department is traditionally a predominantly male-oriented environment and whilst this is bad in the eye-candy stakes, it does mean that very few topics are taboo, or over-the-line.  Indeed most conversations in this office overstep the line of taste and decency by such an amount that the line is more-often-than-not a dot on the distant horizon.

However, it's not all farts, tasteless jokes, discussions about the last boozy night out and lengthy conversations about the best totty currently on television.  This we proved today.

You see, we were discussing the fact that on Friday it is St. Patrick's Day, and how only the Irish (and the Guinness marketing department) seem to have really exploited the patron saint idea (bear with me, I know this sounds like another "boozy night out" discussion, but I'm going somewhere with this).  You see, this Friday thousands more pints of Guinness will be poured, supped and eventually vomited up than would sell on any normal Friday night just because everyone automatically thinks: "Hey, it's St. Paddy's Day, let's get arseholed!".

Suddenly St. David and St. George look like poor patron saints in comparison, don't they?  After all you don't automatically go "Hey, it's St. George's Day let's go drink some Stella!", do you? 

It was whilst we were lamenting the fact that the other patron saints are ignored (not that I'm religious you understand, but I don't believe you have to have faith in order to get drunk), when a colleague of ours piped up with the following assertion: "Of course, St. George isn't a Saint anymore."

"What?" we exclaimed, as this was certainly the first we'd heard about it..
"Oh no, he's been de-canonised, by Pope Paul in 1969"
"Bollocks!", we retorted
"No it isn't, and he wasn't the only one.. St. Christopher and St Valentine have all been de-canonised too!".
Now, as I've said, I'm not religious at all, but this seemed like a bit of a revelation.  After all I'd heard of all of these saints, I'd even seen people wearing St. Christopher's.

This "Naah, that's crap"/"No it isn't" discussion went on for a further five minutes, and was escalating to the point where the participants were bordering on the eating of arse...

Now..
Allow me to explain that one..

This has become the way, at least in this office, to say that you believe a statement completely, that you are 100% sure that what you are saying is factually correct, and is usually said in the terms of "Night follows Day and if that isn't true, I'll eat my own arse".  We have even seen a variation of the theme, where developer's have been heard to utter: "I'll fix that bug by the end of the day or I'll eat my own arse".  You'll no doubt be relieved to know that a precedent has been set that when the statement is proven to be complete bollocks (as it normally is) or the bug still isn't fixed (as it normally isn't), that the person who uttered the gibberish isn't actually expected to eat their own arse (as that would just be gross, icky and very impractical) but they instead reward the entire department with enough fresh cream & jam doughnuts to go round, so everyone's a winner in the end.  

Anyway, where was I?
Oh aye, yeah.. the debate was getting quite heated in the end as to whether St. George was actually St. George or was just plain old "George", when some bright spark hit upon the idea of using the internet to confirm or disconfirm the assertion that in the late sixties a number of Saints had been de-canonised..  And it turns out that it's actually true, that the Pope did indeed "downgrade" these Saints (and others, such as St. Ursula(?)) because they never existed in real life but were instead borne out of myth.  So there you have it, a serious theological discussion in this office. 

Wow.. 

And then someone let rip with a massive fart and told the funniest arse gag ever, and normal service was resumed..

Thought police?

Have you seen that the Metropolitan police has published new rules on policemen who use blogger? Effectively this means that a number of coppers have now stopped using their blogs, just in case they break these rules:
"Recently the organisation has become aware of a series of weblogs or blogs where authors - claiming to be police officers - have offered their views on a number of issues in a highly personalised, often controversial manner", the rules begin, befre going on to say that there is now a ban on "expressing views and opinions that are damaging to the organisation or bring the organisation into disrepute".
So, effectively, if you are an employee of the Metropolitan police you are not allowed to express an opinion (if you state you're a copper anyway) just in case it makes the Met look bad.
Fucking hell, I think back to some of the posts I've written in the past, particularly those on the thorny issue of process and I realise that if a similar law was brought in countrywide to stop people commenting on their workplaces, then half my rants would be pretty much fucked too..
It's not as if these coppers compromised Police work or investigations or anything, it's not as if they'd be typing:
"Yeah gonna do a big dawn drugs raid at 22 Acacia Avenue next Thursday, so we can finally put Mr. Big behind bars" - although, if they were I could at least understand the ban..
Warning - thought crime can only be around the corner!!

Roll up.. Roll up.. Roll up..

This weekend I will be doing my best to emulate the giddy professional heights of the career of Martin Fowler.  No, I'm not going to go upstairs to wash my hands and disappear for five years (only to reappear looking completely different), nor kill anyone in a careless driving incident, nor get involved with a trumpet-playing-and-secretly-lesbian-boot.  No, none of that.. but I will be running my own market stall.. (apologies for the blatant Eastenders reference to anyone who doesn't watch the Beeb's flagship soap, by the way)

Well, a car boot stall anyway..
Aye, it's finally time for the great "Baby On The Way Clearance Sale" which aims to empty my spare room in readiness for its transformation into a nursery.

Unlike most car boots, this is not being hosted in the middle of some remote muddy field, but on a proper local market (which has permanent stalls and everything) which means we have a lot of space on which to actually display our stuff. 

Which is quite handy really, because we started getting stuff together over the weekend and already we have approximately 300 CDs to sell (£1.50 each - or 5 for £5, step right up for a bargain!).  Actually, there are some really good CDs in there, and I want the personal sacrifice that is being made here by selling so many of them noted, please.  Thanks.  It's an eclectic mix that's being sold too (as we've combined our CD collections to sell), so you've got everything from Black Sabbath to Blue, from Testament to Justin Timberlake and from Carcass to Dina Carroll(!?).  We also have two big boxes full of paperbacks filled so far (50p your paperback books now ladies and gentlemen, that's a lot of book for your buck, roll up roll up) and this has partially cleared the bookcase, but the job's only half done really. Funny though, books by David Eddings and Stephen King occupy nearly half a box each on their own!!  Who knew we had such author loyalty!?

So early on Sunday morning (you have to get there by six to get a pitch) we'll be rolling up with a boot full of stuff to flog.  Hopefully the locals will be buying!

Law Of The Stag

If you know me, then there's a very good chance that you've had an email from my best man, Sean, this weekend to let you know all about the stag do (unless I've lost your email address or accidentally neglected to forward your details - sorry!).
Well in order to assist everyone in getting the Stag Do sorted, we've started a blog so that all details of what we've organised are available online, and also so people can provide feedback and suggestions via the Comments section. So point your browser here, for full details and don't forget to leave a comment if you have any comments, suggestions or ideas!!

Chucking the bath out with the bath water

Well there's only about a week to go before chaos reigns in my home.
You see I'm having the builders in (this is not a euphemism, this is actually happening).  After nearly six years of quietly loathing my bathroom, it's finally being ripped out and replaced, and it is not a minute too soon really. 

You see my current bathroom is a real testament to bad, bad taste, a pink bath, a brown sink and toilet (what WERE they thinking..?), I could go on, but I think you can fill in the rest of the awful details with your imagination. 

When I first looked round the house my initial reaction was - "Eww, that'll have to go as soon as possible".  And it was going to be done as part of my glorious "5-year plan" that was going to revolutionise my house (in reality only stage 1, the kitchen, got done within the five year time limit I set myself and that was only because it was nigh on impossible to cook in there beforehand).

But, despite me quietly hating it every single day since I moved in,  the bathroom has managed to survive since May 2000, which really is a testament to how you can put up with and then eventually just get used to things if you're forced to look at them every day.  Or it could be a testament to just how fucking lazy I am.  You decide.

But soon it will be all gleaming white bathroom fixtures, super sci-fi chrome taps, brand new tiles and lovely laminate flooring - it truly will be a fabulous setting in which to have a dump.

The only thing that bothers me is the actual process involved in converting the shit bathroom into a fantastically modern loo. I don't like having builders in, all those crashing, banging noises set my nerves on edge and it makes me panic when I hear plaster falling off walls or hear the sound of leaking water pissing everywhere.  I don't like the fact that they'll use terminology that I'm not familiar with:  "Oh yeah, mate, we've just got to get a monkey bend to fit onto that jointy pipe otherwise you run the risk of your badger flange backing up".  What does that even mean? 

I just won't like the inconvenience of having a miniature building site in the smallest room in the house.  Yeah it will all be worth it in the end, and I look forward to the many happy craps I will have in my new spangly bathroom.  But, I tell you, I'm going to be a nervous wreck for a week when the work starts, so I'd imagine things will get a bit weird round these parts when it does.

See you then..

Much Cheapness

Hurrah!
Got my Costco membership!
So I can finally look forward to many booze related bargains, fantastically cheap electricals (and some of the HDTV ready 40" LCD televisions in there were fucking lush, I tells ya!) and can also save myself a fortune when I (finally) have to get tyres this year.
However, I can already see that, in reality, the biggest benefit will be cheap nappies and baby wipes... Ahh, how our priorities change, eh?
Anyway, at least I'll have made my brother-in-law happy.. When asked what he wanted for his birthday (which is coming up next week) he asked simply for a crate of Fosters - we'll there's a nice pack of 24 500ml cans awaiting fim not (which I picked up at a bargain price too - so I guess we'll BOTH be happy!)

Evil Spirits

Not talking voodoo hoodoo, here.

They often say: "You get what you pay for", don't they? 
Who this mysterious "they" are I have no idea, but quite often "they" talk a lot of sense and I reckon that "they" should be listened to more often than not.  Are "they" the voices in my head?

Anyway, back to the point: "You get what you pay for".
Yes, nowhere is evidence to support this argument more prominent than when purchasing alcohol.  I'll give you an example.  Last night I was in my friendly, neighbourhood supermarket and whilst picking up the essentials, I swung by the alcohol aisle for a quick browse.  You see I do like a small night cap just before bedtime, a splash of a fine single malt or a nice warming brandy around eleven is a fabulous close to the evening.  Not only does a nightcap dissolve the stresses of the working day, it can also help one drift off into a deep, relaxing slumber.  Marvellous.

So there I was looking at the bottles of Laphroaig (lovely stuff, nectar, and did you know that Laphroaig was the only whisky you could legally buy during the American Prohibition?) and Courvoisier (Mmm.. brandy) and they're all quite pricey.  Now it's not as if I'm buying a bottle of this stuff a week, or that I'm particularly strapped for cash, but I still have some reservations about shelling out nearly £20 on a 70cl bottle of the stuff.  I feel doubly guilty about this sort of expenditure when it's only me who can actually enjoy it (as, while pregnant, spirits are WAY off the menu for my better half).  So, for once, I allowed my eyes to wander all along the rows of bottles that were on display, and happened upon a bottle of "Napoleon" brandy.  Now it looked a very similar colour to Courvoisier, the bottle had a dimple in the bottom of it, just like Courvoisier, and it was £9 for 70cl (compare that to nearly £18 for 70cl of Courvoisier). 

"Hell, it's probably practically the same stuff" I reasoned and grabbed what I thought was a bargain..

CUT TO:

INT - MY LIVING ROOM; LATER THAT EVENING.
ME and THE MISSUS sit on the sofa.  From the television, one can hear the closing bars of the signature tune of the BBC 10 O'Clock news.

So it's that time of evening where, if I feel like it (and it's not every night, don't want to come across as some sort of alcoholic here),  I normally break out a little tipple.  I just happen to mention at this point, that I went for a bargain bottle of brandy this week, a bottle of Napoleon, and I hear, in response, the phrase "Oh.. really?  Well, I guess it's okay with a mixer".

Damn!
You see I never have any mixers in my bedtime tipples (usually because I wouldn't want to ruin my fine single malt or brandy).

No surely, it cannot be that bad, surely she's exaggerating..
I head to the kitchen with a mild sense of foreboding and dread, have I blown nine quid on 70cl of shite?  I sincerely hope not.. My hand reaches for the bottle, my god - it's a twisty off cap.. there's no cork (there's always a cork in Courvoisier and Laphroaig), this is not a good sign.  I upend the bottle and begin to pour and, to be fair, there is a satisfying glug-glug sound as the spirit empties into the glass.  Maybe It'll be alright after all.  I mean it looks alright.  And it sounded alright.  It's gonna be alright, right..?

Sip.
Hmm..
Well it's not thoroughly nasty, in fact it's just about drinkable, but you can tell where that extra £9 goes in a bottle of Courvoisier..  And I shall not look forward to my night cap with quite as much enthusiasm this evening, and won't again until I polish off this bottle of cheap brandy.  C'est la vie.  Lesson learnt.

Are you excited?

3 months today the World Cup will kick off! Yay!

Operation: Mindcrime 2

What?
Hadn't heard of Queensryche for years and now they're back with the follow up to Operation: Mindcrime?
Hmm.. this smacks of desperation (and is a pity cos the original album was, at the time, a pretty good listen).
What's next? "The Wall 2"? - oh no, hang on that was "The Final Cut", wasn't it?

Is it time to publish?

I notice that the Blooker Prize has been announced. It's the first short-list for a literary prize that rewards bloggers turned bookwriters, according to the BBC News site.
So should I self-publish Silentbazz..?
I must admit, though, to being quite interested in reading Russel Davies's eggbaconchipsandbeans blook.

A first!

I'm actually observing a No Smoking Day today - must be the first in seventeen years or so..
Ta-daaa!
No doubt there'll be a lot of non-smoking related guff on the news, and in the papers and even on t'internet (BBC News Health section carries the story that "A fifth of smokers plan to stop" -what they neglect to include in the headline here is the end of the sentence which reads "just before the end of the filter, before reaching for another fag"), and no doubt there'll be plenty of advice on how to quit.  A loft of the softies out there will recommend NHS help lines, or patches or even chewing nicorette gum if you are thinking of stopping.  This, however, is quitting for pansies.  This is quitting for losers.  You're not a loser are you?  Let me hear you shout: "Hell no, I'm not a loser".  Right now say it like you've got a pair.  Good.  Now, if you're looking to really stop smoking here's my 2 step "Quit Smoking" plan:

1. DON'T BUY ANY FUCKING CIGARETTES - If you ain't got 'em, you cannot smoke them especially as all of your friends quit years ago, so there's no-one to bum a cigarette off anymore. 

2. DON'T STICK A FUCKING CIGARETTE IN YOUR MOUTH - If you have cigarettes and want to quit, don't be going sticking them in your mouth and lighting them as this is not, I repeat not, quitting.  If you still think you want to stick them in your mouth, stick 'em up your arse first and see if they still seem as appealing.

However, if you don't want to quit, then for god's sake don't.. don't be peer pressured into it either.  Don't allow a nanny state which advocates things like "No Smoking Day" to sway you.  I always really resented No Smoking Day when I was a smoker, as it gave every non-smoker I knew the opportunity to have a little dig at me and wield their little smoking facts: "You know each cigarette you smoke take's two minutes off your life?" - unfortunately it was never the two minutes when you had to endure talking to the do-gooding non-smoker.

So I think, in summary: quit if you want to, smoke if you don't is the main thrust of this rant.  Just, whatever you do, don't whinge or be whinged at - and I think we'll all get along okay.

Kicking up a bit of a stink

There are some advantages to being a lowly coder, you know.  Sometimes it is easy to feel a bit hard done by and downtrodden when you're at the bottom of the employment food chain, but rising through the ranks has its disadvantages too.

For example: today my team leader and my department manager must take a co-worker from this department into their office and confront the guy with the fact that pretty much everyone else has noticed that there is a bit of a personal hygiene problem going on.  Actually that's not the whole story, this guy is actually the coder equivalent of Alexi Sayle's character, Bobby Chariot.  You know the one that was the world famous warm-up comedian that was living in his car?  Well we've got that going on here.  Not sure if this guy's on pills for his nerves, like, but there is something dodgy going on..

I'd probably feel a little more sympathy if the person in question was a regular team member, but the fact that the guy is filthy-money-grabbing-contractor-scum means that there is certainly no financial reason why living in your motor is the only option (and no, I'm not really against contractors, it's just an in-joke here as that's how one of the other contractors here refers to contractors in general (including himself)). 

You see it's not been a sudden realisation that this guy's habits were decidedly, you know.. odd.  No, it's been a slow revelation, like a long-running series that gradually reveals plot points to you as the weeks go on.  Firstly people just commented on how hard-working this guy seemed to be, well maybe not hard working, but certainly dedicated.  He was always the last person to leave of an evening, and yet always seemed to be the first person in on any given morning.  Then someone else commented on the fact that this guy's car was absolutely packed to the roof with crap.. and we're talking clothes, household items, even parts of a bike(!?) here.  There barely seemed enough free space in the car to actually be able to drive it.  And then there were other things.. how he always seemed to be wearing completely crumpled and unironed shirts (quite often with the collar half down and half up), how he came in only half shaved some mornings, the basic dishevelled look he had going on.  Then, it wasn't long before stories started filtering through from the security guys who worked the night-shift that they'd seen this guy popping out to the chippy about half nine at night (and coming back) and a couple of reports of having spotted this guy sleeping overnight in his car in the company car park.

If it wasn't so potentially tragic, it'd be comedy genius (as the aforementioned Mr Sayle realised when creating the Bobby Chariot character), but at least I don't have to have a meeting with the guy later to ask him all about it.  I mean the poor bloke could be so potentially embarrassed.  But that's the disadvantage of selling out, taking the pay increase and suckling at the company teat as all team leaders and managers do.  As I say, all of a sudden, the role of lowly developer ain't so bad after all.

Shiny, shiny..

It seems everyone I know at the moment is buying (or at least getting via work) a new car.  Honestly the car park seems to be awash with gleaming metallic-painted covered bodywork, upon which hangs "06" number plates.  I was feeling a little left out by this up until recently. 

You see, my current plan is to run my motor into the ground.  I'll get rid of it when it collapses in a smoky heap and all the doors comically (and simultaneously) fall off - like you used to see Clown cars doing.  Seeing that I drive a VW, I'm hopeful that it will do me at least another seven years (my old VW was 14 years old when I eventually parted with it, so I have high hopes that my existing one will do at least 10) as they are reliable as hell as long as they are properly looked after.  Mine is off for it's annual service today (and Smith Knight Fay collected it from work at 8:20 this morning - now that's service!!) so I'm certainly trying my best.

I know this is not the trendy thing to do.  We are encouraged not to drive anything over three years old these days, avoiding costly MOT and breakdown bills (apparently).  Whilst this seems like a marvellous idea, it's shocking to think that few people ever end up completely owning their car any more, but instead only keep on chipping away at the latest finance deal they've got.  Me?  Well I could happily do without car repayments for a couple of years, between keeping the damn thing taxed, insured and filled with petrol, motoring costs me enough as it is.

Despite the fact that I know this to be a sensible thing to do (I mean, baby and wedding on the way this year - I have other expenses to consider, know what I mean?), sensible doesn't always seem so much fun when everyone is driving their new shiny cars to work.  This feeling was compounded when I looked at my car last week: It was a sorry sight, and that was my fault.

You see when I smoked, I smoked in my car.   It's funny, but it seems like such a long time ago now.. I do still get the odd moment of weakness where I think I'd quite like to see what a cigarette tastes like now, but it passes after a few seconds.  But anyway, what this meant was there was always a faint smoky smell inside the car and all of the interior was covered in a fine layer of dust (for dust, read ash).. I was aware that there was a carpet inside my car, but it was difficult to ascertain (or remember) what colour it might have been, and I could write my name in the dust on my dashboard.  In short, my little car - which is always so enthusiastic when I turn the key, so chirpy, so eager to transport me to whatever destination I choose to drive it to- had been neglected by me.  I was a bad owner.  The guilt!

So yesterday, I decided to give ol' brum-brum a treat.. It was off to the Car Wash for a full valet.  This is not as extravagant as it sounds - it's only eleven pounds (and the normal hand wash is six quid anyway), but it was the thought that counts here.  My faithful VW was treated to a thorough clean outside, with high-pressure hoses, and hot wax and then the nice people cleaned it thoroughly inside too: wiping down the dashboard, vacuuming the carpet, cleaning the inside of the windows and hanging a brand new air freshener from the rear view mirror.  When I finally got back in my car the transformation was amazing, the interior gleamed, the carpet was lush, the metal work was all shiny and I swear the engine purred..  All evidence that I had smoked in my car had been wiped away and years had been taken off my car as a result.  Indeed it felt like a new car.. And, I was no longer a bad owner - phew!

I must, I must learn to proof read

Having a blog is all well and good, but often you are at the mercy of grammatical faux-pas.. 
..particularly when you don't proof read what you write.. (and, as you've probably guessed, I don't)
For example, the entry "Brass Monkeys..", posted earlier today, contained an awful typo which completely altered the meaning of a sentence into an innuendo-tastic statement.  Fortunately, no-one seemed to spot it except me (not even PJ spotted it and usually he can sniff out an innuendo at forty paces!!) and I have since corrected the sentence, so I think I've got away with it (apart from holding my hands up to it now, of course).  I shall be more vigilant in future, I think!!

Brass Monkeys..

FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKK!

How cold is it out there today..?
Honestly, this is not funny anymore - it's March for gawd's sake.  It's supposed to be spring in Britain at the moment, not mid-winter in fecking Siberia.  It's hard enough on any given morning to have to leave your nice warm bed and face the harsh realities of having to go to work, but when it's bloody minus five out there then it becomes nigh on impossible.

I'd also like to take this opportunity to point out to pedestrians and other non-drivers that people who commute to work in their cars at this time of year are not posing twats for wearing sunglasses. 

Sunnies, it's true, are normally associated with the months of June, July and August and warm days (more often than not outside of the UK, but occasionally we get a warm day around late August, don't we?).  Outside of these months the wearing of sunglasses is traditionally frowned upon, as it looks like people are trying desperately to be hip when in reality, nothing could be further from the truth.  However, when you're driving to work early in the morning at this time of year, sunglasses are not fashion accessories (actually the pair I keep in the car are so old they could never be described as fashion accessories anyway), they allow us to actually see. 

The winter sun is so bastard low in the sky, the road is shiny as it's wet or frozen, and half the time us drivers cannot be arsed to clear our windscreens properly before setting off (as we're already late, dammit), so the light is refracted off the partially frozen water on the glass and de-icer running down the windscreen.  To be fair, it's a minor miracle that we can see anything when we initially set off.. So sunnies might just help us drivers actually see the pavement, so that we don't accidentally mount the pavement and knock over pedestrian who is looking at us thinking: "What a twat, he's wearing sunglasses in March".

Amyway, it's Friday, no doubt I'll be back soon..

To be sung to the tune of "Let It Snow"

Oh the weather outside is shite
Cos the pavement's all frosty and white
But it's off to work I go,
through the snow, through the snow, through the snow!

And the motorway's cold and icy
Makes the driving conditions dicey
And the traffic doesn't seem to flow
through the snow, through the snow, through the snow!

When I finally get to work
Done my best not to crash and skid
Have to put up with so much crap
Makes me wonder why I did

Well, the day ahead looks boring
And there's little sign of thawing
So I'll go home again, don't you know
through the snow, through the snow, through the snow!

Date for your diary

Everyone looking forward to March 20th?
I know I am..