Its the simple things that cause the most hassle

I have a problem with the mouse attached to my laptop at work. It's gone a bit Pete Tong as the kids might have once said. It no longer single clicks when pressing the left button. Nope, just as a special hassle for me it double clicks no matter how gently I press it. Doesn't sound much like a problem really does it? Pales into insignificance compared to Hamas winning the Palestinian elections, Iran developing a nuclear capability, global warming, bird flu, AIDS epidemics in Africa and institutional racism in the Great British Press. I grant that it seems trivial, but whereas all of the others are issues of concern for everyone, this one is the one that's in my face right now. This is the single most irritating thing that is happening in my working day. An example...try closing an email down in Outlook by clicking on the X button at the top right hand corner. Yes, with a constantly double clicking mouse you will still close the email down, but also the whole Outlook application as well. Try clicking on the Favourites tab in your browser...one click opens, two clicks closes hence it becomes a pointless operation. Writing something in MS Word? Yep, how easy is it to move the cursor around the page to insert new text when all it does is immediately highlight the whole sentence. Writing this post has been an adventure in refamiliarising myself with keyboard commands "shortcuts". Like the good old days of Editor mode in MS-DOS, because they were so good weren't they. The only people who remember them with any fondness are sad act propeller heads who think that proper computing can only be done in machine code through a command line.

None of them are married or have many friends.

This particular trivial but unbelievably annoying and productivity affecting problem just made me wonder how we, a 21st Century society would cope with the loss of other gadgets that have become integral to the way we live..........

The mobile phone : Yes it's a pain in the arse when people talk loudly into it in a restaurant, or on a train. Yes, it's contributed towards a rise in street crime because it's an object of desire despite being virtually given away by The Company and its competitors. But what about the ease of contacting someone when abroad, or when late for an appointment? What about the lives it's saved at roadside accidents because people can ring emergency services straight away instead of having to find a piss-filled stinking public phone box in the middle of the night that some lowlife scumbag has vandalized? What about the immediate aftermath of terrorist atrocities where people have been able to contact loved ones, or in the case of September 11th where those doomed to die could send or speak one last message of love to their families? Yes, society got by without them for millennia but could we really revert to a mobile free society?

The TV Remote Control : Remember the days when turning the TV over meant getting out of the chair and TURNING a dial? Then you're over 40! But seriously how many of us now spend as much time looking for the damned thing instead of manually switching the TV over or off? Bloody Hell - on some TV's I'm not sure there is even a manual option. And who remembers when the remote was on the end of a cable running across the floor? ....me ...unfortunately.

The Car Remote Control: That's right, for all you kiddies out there was a time when Dad had to unlock every door in the car with a key. And then lock it when he had delivered you to your destination. A time that meant when you ran to the car in the car park he couldn't let you in early and you'd have to wait until him or Mum had dragged their sorry arse to the car in order to insert a key into the lock and open the doors! Christ my Volvo even illuminates the car inside and puts the headlights on for 30 seconds so that I can clearly locate the thing from 100 yards.

The Ipod/MP3 player: Yeah, not totally ubiquitous I know, but getting there. Less than 3 years ago my music collection took up 3 CD racks and several plastic carry boxes with Vinyl. To carry it around I'd have needed the muscles of Schwarzenegger and as many arms as Doc Octopus. Plus i'd have needed a system to play it on. As far as my memory serves me there is no such thing as a portable turntable that you can take to the side of the pool on holiday with which to play your oldies. I gave up on cassettes about 10 years ago when my BMW decided to chew my Led Zeppelin III and IV tapes up (on a long journey with no backup except the poxy radio). But now my music collection sits on my Zen Jukebox with a 4oGb hard drive (the cheap MP3 player for those who aren't fashion and marketing monkeys). 5,547 tracks and still with 12Gb to spare. All in the palm of my hand. When i first started in 1986 ats a trainee computer operator i worked ina room the size of a football pitch. The combined memory (mainstore as we knew it) of the mainframe was 23Mb, the total of all the disks (filestore as we knew it) was around 30Gb. A 2.5 Gb disk cabinet was the size of a bread van. Now I have more than that and it's in my hand. Reduced in size by over a thousand times.

So effective are thse things that I'm now desperate to find new things to add to it. Thank heavens for Ricky Gervais, Mark Kermode and Fighting Talk. In 5 years we will be using them. Even your Gran will have one that she can listen to, or surf the net whilst she gazes at the family photo album, and the new photo's you take on holiday that you send via mobile phone direct to her Ipod.

The Cordless Screwdriver: In my view this is the single best invention ever developed by man. Building flatpacks? Get a cordless and smile as they effortlessly drive the screws into the ill fitting poorly machined holes supplied. Fitting door handles as you re-decorate? Building beds? Your life will change with one of these. I actively look for jobs around the house that give me the opportunity to use one. Gone are the days of launching verbal Anglo-Saxon tirades whilst simultaneously hurling inanimate objects across the room because I can't get a screw in far enough to fix whatever I am doing. I just save that for when the computer plays up.......

The PC: Where would we be without this? In the garden perhaps? Spending time with our families perhaps? Building things with our cordless screwdrivers? I know what I wouldn't be doing - writing blogs that get read occasionally or surfing the net buying things I don't need. But what about the information I can get for my studies? Ditto, the kids? Ditto, GMD. How would we get the best deals on travelling to The Money Pit without Google and Kelkoo? And in what other way could I successfully win the FA Cup as Chelsea Manager, whilst almost simultaneously get sacked by Bristol Rovers only to be offered a job managing MK Dons on better money with a bigger transfer pot? (thanks to Football Manager 2006 - a game I suspect might find itself featuring in divorce cases the length and breadth of the land)

Just a few examples of how pampered and reliant we are on gadgets and technology today. That's of course without mentioning the technology workhorses of washing machines, tumble dryers, dish washers and vacuum cleaners.

That whole rant because of a faulty mouse.

Later, GrocerJack.

Politicians..what can you do...

Simon Hughes...Liar
Charles Kennedy ....Liar
Mark Oaten...Liar
Tony Blair.....Liar
Michael Howard....Liar

The list just goes on and on. I had some hope for Simon Hughes , in fact for the Lib Dems, and personally I don't think anyones sexuality is anyone else's business.

Never has been. And never will be.

In fact if I was one and someone asked me "Straight or Gay" I'd have a stock answer ready along the lines of

"Fuck off and mind your own business you miserable piece of shit"

George Michael refused to answer for years because he rightfully didn't want to be labelled because of it. Granted he was outed in somewhat unfortunate circumstances but I think this may have been a deliberate ploy to get it over and done with.

However, if you choose to answer the question, then at least answer it honestly, especially if your a politician making promises to people. Blair lied on WMD, Howard on just about everything but who can forget the HM Prisons episode and his subsequent squirming under fire from Paxman.

All hope for the Lib Dems has gone though. No matter what i think how do I know the new leader isn't concealing other ideas or thoughts, or has a different agenda. I'm intelligent enough to make my mind up based on election promises and manifesto's but I fear the average Sun/Star/Express/Mail reader isn't. You can hear the blue rinses getting bluer with each new revelation.

Simon Hughes at least entertained one idea that I like, the idea of an English Parliament, but seems to have dropped his enthusiasm for that recently. That might be enough for me to not vote for his party, but the fact that he appears "bi" isn't a voting issue. Strange how this is even news in 2006 though.

Oaten on the other hand was a fool and trod the same path of folly that many an MP has done before. He won't be the first, nor the last. But why do it this way? Why not just go to a gay friendly club and meet someone there. If nothing else it must be cheaper? The only person I feel sorry for in his story is his poor wife. Talk about having your world turned upside down.

The upshot is that in a period of declining trust in politics, this lying trait just adds fuel to that fire. Lying feeds apathy. All we ask for as voters is honesty. Most intelligent voters don't care about your sex life. We just care about what you can do to make our lives better.

Later, GrocerJack

Hmmm...part 2

Well, its one way of keeping the kids quiet I suppose.

Later, GrocerJack

Decked...The Money Pit strikes again....

Just when I thought I'd paid everything and saved enough for some decking on The Money Pit we got a quote today from the camp site......errrr....I mean holiday parc (with a "c" apparently). Guess how much to have it installed?

£1500

Yup, 1500 fucking quid.

Now , we had budgeted for about a grand for the decking plus £200 -ish for a portable air-con unit. But somehow another 50% on top again?

Someone, somewhere is making a lot of money out of pieces of planed and pre-formed wood.

Seriously if I had any clue as to where to start with doing it my bloody self I would, but even I know it takes two and GMD wouldn't be much help, bless her, as DIY and stuff is not her forte. I'm not even sure if its beter to buy the stuff there from Monsieur Bricolage, the french equivalent to B&Q or buy it here from B&Q, the English version of ...err....Monsieur Bricolage and take it their in the back of the Meriva. Besides I've never "set a post" in my life, and never built anything even remotely requiring a spirit level, let alone anything with a 1:100 "fall" for water drainage.

What I need is a mate who's a chippy. Just my luck that all I know are builders, sparks, plumbers, militaria dealers, network engineers, lawyers, publicans, health and safety officers, (boo...hiss) and civil servants (apologies to those I have missed). I even asked our resident DIY expert, BigSykes, my brother-in-law if he fancied helping me, but he has issues about going abroad it seems as his answer was a rather wimpy "but I've never done decking before"...hmm...... he's never knocked a kitchen through but he managed that last year.

I know in the grand scheme it's a trivial problem, but you know, I just wanted everthing done and dusted this year. But it seems the financial forces are against me this time.

Thoughts that have run through my mind on this issue today.............

Maybe I should sacrifice the teeth straightening project........

Maybe I should enrol for woodwork classes......

Maybe I should torch the fucking thing and claim the insurance back.......

Maybe I should have bought a touring caravan....

Maybe I should have bought a tent......

Maybe I should ask someone who's out of work to help me.......knowing my luck I'd get an offer from Mark Oaten....hmmm methinks not........

Maybe I could sell a kidney for £500.........

Maybe I could leave it until next year and let evryone drag mud and grass inside it......

Maybe I should sell it and holiday in Bognor every year......yup, 12 miles up the road...not good

Maybe a series of huge bean bags against the front would be just as good......

How would a series of pallets from B&Q look if nailed together?


So, any chippies fancy a free weekend in France? You lead the way, I'll be your apprentice.

Later , PotlessJack.

Tagged

Seven things to do before I die

See England win the football World Cup

Re-visit America at least once

Ride in a helicopter

Own another motorbike

Stand on the Stamford Bridge pitch before a game

Get a hole in one

Retire to France

Seven things I cannot do

Keep my mouth shut

Watch anything with Davina McCall in

Stop supporting Chelsea

Stop letching

Listen to Radio 1, or any dance/rave/hiphop/garage or gangster rap

Hang wallpaper

Winter

Seven things I say

Sorted

Fuck off

That’s why we’re Champions (sung rather said!)

Be good, be careful, be safe, be tidy (to baby, every day)

Where you going?

I need a favour….

Result

Seven books I have loved

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams (all 5 parts)

The Long Dark teatime of the Soul by Douglas Adams

Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency

This Other Eden by Ben Elton

Dead Famous by Ben Elton

High Society by Ben Elton

Around Ireland with a Fridge by Tony Hawkes

Seven movies I have loved

Pulp Fiction

Kill Bill Volume 1 and 2

The Godfather pts 1 and 2

Goodfellas

The Truman Show

Top Gun

Zulu

Seven things that attract me to…France

The wine

The food

The culture

The lifestyle

The weather

The markets

The fact that in one day you can drive to the Med without flying

Seven people to tag…

Mick in The UK

Bloggocks Mick

Inspector Sands

Beirut bar Stool

Nick Barlow

Crox

Onionbagblogger

Later, GrocerJack

Hmmm...part 1

I think its highly likely the words "Oh" and "Shit" are likely to run through your mind should you see this out of the aircraft window.

later, GrocerJack

Twisted

Teenagers bed broke last week. It's a double sized wrought iron (hmm...) bed and the weld on one of the joints has just given up after years of having kids (and the ....ahem....odd adult) bouncing up and down it. Its not often I get results when I buy things, but when we ordered the new pine replacement version for her, we asked that they delay the original delivery date by one week. Yep, you guessed it, they ring on the original date and delivered it anyway because the driver is in the area and their computer system is too fucking stupid to understand the concept of rearrangement. Luckily we were in, when we were supposed to be out so we took it in anyway. The thing is they also rang on the rearranged date when I was at work with a delivery for a bed! What was GMD to do with this moral dilemna? Of course she did the right thing, kept her mouth shut and let them deliver another bed. This one's for Baby if they don't discover their fuck up.

Anyway, tonight I dismantled the remains of the old iron (sic) bed so that we could

a.) get rid of the thing
b.) get it out of the room
c.) pull the carpet up for the install of laminate flooring - I detest the stuff but GMD and the kids love it - GMD wants it in the living room, but I'm fighting that one all the way...cold and noisy shite in my view. How can I lay out on a laminate floor and read the Sunday's in comfort? I might as well lay on the fucking pavement outside and read them!

Simple huh? A few screws and nuts to undo, no problem. Just the job for one of mans finest inventions...the cordless screwdriver. Any man knows how satisfactory the feeling is of tightening or unscrewing 50 screws on a DIY project by pressing a button and letting the screwdriver power the screw in or out without huge weals and bruises appearing on your hands. It must give the same satisfaction as tightening the wheelnuts on Formula Yawn car in 3 seconds. Top marks to Mr Black and Mr Decker.

But no! You see in a cruel twist of fate The Academy of Crap Design got there first. As I stooped to the first screw the memories of building the bastard thing came flooding back. The screws aren't Phillips crosshead, nor do they have the traditional screwdriver groove in the head. No, just for me some vindictve shitneck tosspot decides that an Allen Key fitting is what's needed here. So, 2 hours of twisting a torturously small Allen Key in a screw attached almost permanently to a nut was my night, rather than the planned 20 minutes with my Black and Decker. What sort of twisted cretinous monster decided that this was the way to allow the screws to be tightened?

On a night where Baby asked me for some help in her forthcoming and first ever school debate, on the subject of Capital Punishment, and where I gave her my arguments against it, I think maybe it should be re-introduced for the twats who have graduated from the Academy of Crap Design.

Later, ScrewedJack

The Root of All Evil....

Last night saw the second episode of Life on Mars (see previous blog from….errr….a week ago) and as expected it didn’t disappoint. Innovative and good drama interspersed with genuine laugh out loud moments keeps Monday night alive for me. But also on Mondays on Channel 4, although I don’t know for how long, is an equally fascinating programme called Root of All Evil?

It is presented by the renowned scientist Professor Richard Dawkins, an eminent Oxford University academic and neo-Darwinist. Dawkins is a man who sharply divides opinion, not least with me. he also comes over as rather irrascible, and has the air of a Victorian schoolmaster about to explode with disbelief at the stupidity of the people he talks to. Very enteratining to watch though. I see and understand his arguments for Darwinism and his dismissal of religion, but he never satisfactorily covers the human condition for me. The condition of why we are what we are, why evolution singled us out for advanced intelligence (in comparison to all other Earth species), and to what happens upon death – his blasé proclamation of “that’s all folks” doesn’t, for me, cover the nature and purpose of our existence. In this programme, Dawkins is exposing the fundamental hypocrisies and fairy stories which underpin virtually all religions. He does this by talking to various religious figures across the three main religions of Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Why he chose to ignore Hinduism and Buddhism is not explained. However, each of the people he interviews during the series are exposed as rather nasty people underneath it all. At least the Muslim fundamentalist on last weeks programme was nasty from the outset, but the Jewish and Christian clerics he spoke to were happy to smile for the camera but you could see the festering dislike they held for his atheistic views bubbling under the surface. In fact the American preacher from last week, with the NurembergRally-esque style of preaching physically threatened Dawkins and the crew off of his land. This week saw another American “Reverend” defending his friend, who had murdered a Doctor because he performed abortions.In his view this murdering shitneck would have gone to heaven for such an "act of love" for the unborn child! This lunatic moron even extolled the idea that a death penalty would be deemed a suitable punishment for people who commit adultery. I suppose it's one way to cut the worlds population by half!

What Dawkins manages to expose is the way that fear of eternal damnation and hell is used to exercise control and power over peoples lives, and how religion encourages hatred, intolerance, bigotry and prejudice, and ultimately leads to extreme acts of evil, something not seen by any other species on Earth. Even Chimps, with no apparent concept of social justice, equality or right or wrong have a basic understanding of how the unity of the group is better for all, and of how to gain respect and standing via acts of altruism unguided by any faith in a higher being.

Dawkins also states that although religions preach morality, peace and hope, the fact is they carry and encourage at their heart intolerance, violence and destruction. He argues that the growth of extreme fundamentalism in nearly every religion across the world not only endangers humanity but is in conflict with the trend over thousands of years of history for humanity to progress and under the auspices of our society, culture and the environment of the natural world become more enlightened and more tolerant. Dawkins argues that religion destroys and undermines this by dividing our species and by consequently encouraging insular groups to exist, following unproven, unchallenged and unprovable doctrines, which in turn feeds the unilateral views of the religious groups.

Dawkins goes on to argue that religion can be likened to a generational virus handed down from parent to child, something which the child-brain cannot challenge in its early and most malleable years. Dawkins also argues that for children transmitting such a 'warped reality' to young people, says Dawkins, amounts to indoctrination. Children are uniquely vulnerable and if they fail to question and shake off such superstition, they remain in a state of perpetual infancy. I loved the point about parents not describing their children as Tory or Labour, or of parents indoctrinating their children with specific political views.

All of this just served to strengthen my view that religion is the source of some of the vilest activities, thoughts, doctrines, tools of oppression and disputes the world has seen. It doesn’t dispel my faith in some form of further existence beyond the corporeal form, because as I say he doesn’t convince me that nothing beyond death exists. I’ve always felt since renouncing my own Catholic faith as a young teenager, that whatever follows death won’t be under the auspices of a Higher Being who created the conditions for death, misery, tragedy and hatred but of something far stranger and unexplainable than that. I simply do not believe that the human ”spirit” is a mere by-product of a living collection of molecules and atoms forming flesh and bones. I did however agree with the statement he quoted from physicist and writer Stephen Weinberg when describing religion as an insult to human dignity

Without it you'd have good people doing good things and evil people doing evil things. But for good people to do evil things, it takes religion.

Later, GrocerJack

The Money Pit

Remember my holiday in France last year? For those new to this collection of silly musings I'll recap briefly.

3 weeks
South of France
Lovely weather
Great food and drink
Teenage boys discovering Teenager
Teenager discovering boys (other than Mini-Me)
Baby discovering a new pre-teenage world
Me realising both were at the start of changes to their lives and their dependence on me
Shit drive there, race against the clock back to make the ferry with 15 minutes to spare
The purchase of a caravan…mobile home….holiday home in the South of France

Well guess which one is The Money Pit? Yep, not the kids but the caravan…mobile home….holiday home. To be honest me being a lazy, disorganised knobber doesn’t help the situation either. In fact I told GMD this would be my project to test my planning skills acquired in my stultifying, boring and increasingly dull job. Of course this was a mistake because being a member of the GoGB means delaying everything until the last possible moment. It’s genetic, and only blokes can loaf to the degree where we only leave a burning building when our hair starts to sizzle. And even then we probably just saunter out casually. Similarly that’s how I’ve planned this new adventure.

Anyway because of this I had persevered in getting the balance for the caravan…mobile home….holiday home from a new member of The Fucking Bastards Club – my building society. Since late September they have prevaricated around lending us the money. They don’t answer the phones, they don’t reply to letters until 2-3 weeks later, they can’t help on the phone when you do get through and then finally they refuse the loan after 3 months of administrative bollocks because they won’t lend on something that “isn’t a permanent structure”…well thanks to the Birmingham Midshits for fuck all. And I will get my £300 admin fee (which they say is non-refundable) back believe me. Small claims court here I come! So, we have ended going elsewhere to get the balance – my shares from The Company that I’ve been saving for 5 years!, some other shares that I got as a bonus from the company have also gone, and no they didn’t make me a great deal of money because The Company’s share price is on its arse and falling day by day! We’ve managed to get the £3400 site fees together as well and so in the last week I’ve decimated my long term savings, read contracts until blue in the face, signed loan forms in triplicate, signed contracts in quadruplate (if such a thing exists) been emailing Haven Europe constantly trying to get correct figures and other advice from a very pleasant but unbelievably dim “sales counsellor” – a sort of female Tim Nice-but-dim. Email seems almost mysterious to her judging by the apparent delight she shows every time she gets something from me that has an attachment.

I have been the proverbial blue arsed fly all week. In fact I envy the blue arsed fly because I bet it’s stress levels were way below mine. And at least it gets to sit on the shit instead of having it dumped on its head like me.

On Friday alone I had to negotiate an extra £500 overdraft with the bank to get us through to the next payday, ring the share brokers and get stuff sold and transferred, cancel my OU course (heartbreaking) in order to get an extra £500 for The Money Pit purchase, ring the Halifax for my sharesave schemes to be closed, ring the car company for a quote to buy the car before the balloon payment comes up in September and loads more. I had to try and make 10 phone calls in 45 minutes spare I had on Friday at work. I managed 9 in that time, which in the “select option 1, key in your number, key in your i.d “ world of automated phone systems is nothing short of a performance Sir Steve Redgrave would be proud of.

A picture of The Money Pit is shown above – obviously that’s not mine because mine isn’t in place yet, nor have I purchased any decking (a snip at what looks like being around £1000, or the air conditioning unit, no doubt another snip at £300!). I just hope it’s worth it. The picture above certainly makes me think so. At the moment I veer between child like excitement when I look at the stuff we got from the site. When I remember what it was like signing for this under the hot Mediterranean sun, which no doubt helped sell the dream to me. When I read the various reviews on the web it lifts me up and convinces me that this is something I want. But in the dark moments I slip into despair because that’s it for my savings.

All gone.

No more.

And I’ve still got to find £3375 to get my orthodontic teeth treatment.

But what else are your savings for?

And people wonder why I’m a grumpy old bastard?

Later, GrocerJack

Bad HATtitude? (groan)

Another surefire sign of how mental this country is getting and just how bloody invasive the PC Brigade/Nanny State is getting. Read this article about the 64 year old Grandad asked to remove his Trilby hat in a pub and then tell me that we aren't all off to hell in a handcart. For fucks sake where is the alleged reason, compromise and fairness of todays' society? Do we truly live in a "one size fits all" society where stupid rules are bought in with best intentions but then penalise the innocent or unwary? When are we, as a society going to stand up to this sort of PC/Nanny State/paranoic bollocks and tell these rule making knobbers to go fuck themselves. Perhaps it's time for a new political party.

The Civil Disobedience Party (incorporating The Common Sense Party) anyone?

Rules might include

Anyone over 40 can wear any headgear wherever they like
All Town centre parking will be free
Any parking meter without a debit/credit card facility will be deemed invalid
If I want to stand at football I will
Speed limits on A-roads and motorways will now be Safe Speed Guides
Gas/electricity/water and phone disconnections will be an illegal act
I'll drink however much I want
I'll give up my bus/tube seat when it suits me
If i want to use my mobile in a petrol station I will, bearing in mind that to date not one occurence of mobile phone caused petrol station explosion or fire anywhere in the world has been logged
Ditto on aeroplanes.
Ditto in Hospitals
Hospital Parking will be free (our government will make up the revenue shortfall)
Wheel Clamps can be legally removed via Angle grinders/power Saws
It will be illegal to turf any minor off of a bus or train because they haven't enough money for the full fare and the driver will be responsible for ensuring the kid can call home.
Spikes can be worn in the clubhouse, as can hats and shorts (local golf club rule)
It will be legal to throw someones mobile away or destroy it if they are too loud on the train, in a restaurant, in a waiting room or answer it when indulging in face to face conversation with someone?

Any more?

Later, Grocerjack

For all you nervous flyers

Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!"
Delta 351:"Give us another hint! We have digital watches!"

"TWA 2341, for noise abatement turn right 45 Degrees." "Centre, we are at 35,000 feet. How much noise can we make up here?" "Sir, have you ever heard the noise a 747 makes when it hits a 727?"

From an unknown aircraft waiting in a very long takeoff queue: "I'm fucking
bored!" Ground Traffic Control: "Last aircraft transmitting, identify yourself immediately!"
Unknown aircraft: "I said I was fucking bored, not fucking stupid!"

Control tower to a 747: "United 329 heavy, your traffic is a Fokker, one
o'clock, three miles, Eastbound." United 239: "Approach, I've always wanted to say this.... I've got the little Fokker in sight."

A DC-10 had come in a little hot and thus had an exceedingly long roll out
after touching down. San Jose Tower noted: "American 751, make a hard right turn at the end of the runway, if you are able. If you are not able, take the Guadalupe exit off Highway 101, make a right at the lights and return to
the airport."

A military pilot called for a priority landing because his single-engine jet
fighter was running "a bit peaked." Air Traffic Control told the fighter
pilot that he was number two, behind a B-52 that had one engine shut down.
"Ah," the fighter pilot remarked, "The dreaded seven-engine approach."

Allegedly, a Pan Am 727 flight waiting for start clearance in Munich
overheard the following: Lufthansa (in German): "Ground, what is our start clearance time?"
Ground (in English): "If you want an answer you must speak
in English." Lufthansa (in English): "I am a German, flying a German airplane, in Germany. Why must I speak English?"
Unknown voice from another plane (in a beautiful British accent): "Because you lost the bloody war."

Tower: "Eastern 702, cleared for takeoff, contact Departure on frequency
124.7" Eastern 702: "Tower, Eastern 702 switching to Departure. By the way,
after we lifted off we saw some kind of dead animal on the far end of the
runway." Tower: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff behind Eastern 702,
contact Departure on frequency 124.7. Did you copy that report from Eastern
702?" Continental 635: "Continental 635, cleared for takeoff, roger; and
yes, we copied Eastern... we've already notified our caterers."

One day the pilot of a Cherokee 180 was told by the tower to hold short of
the active runway while a DC-8 landed. The DC-8 landed, rolled out, turned
around, and taxied back past the Cherokee. Some quick-witted comedian in the DC-8 crew got on the radio and said, "What a cute little plane. Did you make it all by yourself?" The Cherokee pilot, not about to let the insult go by,
came back with a real zinger: "I made it out of DC-8 parts. Another landing
like yours and I'll have enough parts for another one."

Allegedly the German air controllers at Frankfurt Airport are renowned as a
short-tempered lot. They, it is alleged, not only expect one to know one's
gate parking location, but how to get there without any assistance from
them. So it was with some amusement that we (a Pan Am 747) listened to the
following exchange between Frankfurt ground control and a British Airways
747, call sign Speedbird 206. Speedbird 206: "Frankfurt, Speedbird 206 clear of active runway."
Ground: "Speedbird 206. Taxi to gate Alpha One-Seven." The BA 747 pulled onto the main taxiway and slowed to a stop.
Ground:"Speedbird, do you not know where you are going?"
Speedbird 206: "Stand by, Ground, I'm looking up our gate location now." Ground (with quite arrogantimpatience): "Speedbird 206, have you not been to Frankfurt before?"
Speedbird 206 (coolly): "Yes, twice in 1944, but it was dark,...... and I didn't land."

Allegedly, while taxiing at London's Gatwick Airport, the crew of a US Air
flight departing for Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose
with a United 727. An irate female ground controller lashed out at the US
Air crew, screaming: "US Air 2771, where the hell are you going?! I told you
to turn right onto Charlie taxiway! You turned right on Delta! Stop right
there. I know it's difficult for you to tell the difference between C and D,
but get it right!" Continuing her rage to the embarrassed crew, she was now
shouting hysterically: "God! Now you've screwed everything up! It'll take
forever to sort this out! You stay right there and don't move till I tell
you to! You can expect progressive taxi instructions in about half an hour
and I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you, and how I
tell you! You got that, US Air 2771?" US Air 2771: "Yes, ma'am," the humbled
crew responded. Naturally, the ground control communications frequency fell
terribly silent after the verbal bashing of US Air 2771. Nobody wanted to
chance engaging the irate ground controller in her current state of mind.
Tension in every cockpit out around Gatwick was definitely running high.
Just then an unknown pilot broke the silence and keyed his microphone,
asking: "Wasn't I married to you once?"

Later, Grocerjack

Quality, quality, quality

It's good to be English. There are loads of reasons for this, none of which conflict with my pro-Europe stance. I do not believe being pro-Europe is anti-English, in fact the most fanatical of Europeans are often the most patriotic for their homeland. Hence, Germany as a big European player has a very strong sense of nationality, which has not been diluted by the Euro currency or European laws on human rights etc. Ditto France. Ditto Spain. Ditto Italy. All have remained fiercely proud of their national identity. I'm also OK with being British as well, but despise the Little Britain mentality of small minded island race bigotry which says that for some reason we are better than Johnny Foreigner.

However, one bastion of Englishness and Britishness envied by all others is The BBC. I have a logo on the page declaring my support for this organization and have often posted before about it, specifically the fantastic value we ALL get for around 35 per day, without a single advert in sight. So, once again its hats off to them for yet another innovative and compelling piece of drama in the form of Life on Mars, aired for the first time last night. Starring the marvellous John Simm and Phillip Glenister it is the story of a copper transported from 2006 back to 1973. Well, in fact he's hit by a car in 2006 and the assumption is he is in a coma and all the 1973 stuff is happening in his head whilst he fights for life in hospital. The show is made by Kudos productions who made Spooks, another of my favourite shows and is fast becoming one of the most classy of independent TV production stables around. However, this is not just simple time travel, with the usual paradoxes and conundrums. No, this is about the capability for someone to accept massive change and to do the best they can when things change beyond all reality. A sort of Groundhog Day scenario without the constant repetition. But what wins me over the most is the attention to detail in the nostalgia-fest for everyone over 40. The little touches like flowery wallpaper, TV's with no remote control, old news bulletins featuring Robert Dougall as the newscaster, a Cortina Mk3 Ghia with Vinyl roof, an 8-track as the music system in a Rover car. The list just goes on, wonderful shots down streets lined with parked Austin Allegro's, Vauxhall Viva's and Morris Marina's, a vinyl record shop with listening booth playing "Teenage Wasteland" by The Who and Simms characters reference to buying his first record there - Cars by Gary Numan, not released until 1979. And of course the Sweeney like attitudes of 1970's British police. A sexist environment where women police are referred to as "skirts" and charged with making tea or filing paperwork, where all the men made jokes about a recently murdered woman because of her alleged sexual exploits, a police station where smoking in the office is de rigour, and a world of no computers or mobile phones. The look on Simm characters face when he learns it will take two weeks to get some lab results back because it's all done by post is priceless. Alongside this there is the intriguing story of the link between a murder in 2006 and something very similar in 1973. It is a series so I guess each week there'll be something different story wise with the underlying story-arc around the time travel bit and how they wrap it up will be intriguing to say the least - I wouldn't imagine it's a multi-series...err...series if you get my drift.

However it is simply indicative of how a public funded service can be innovative, different, take risks and produce high quality drama. To put it into context, the offering on ShiteTV last night was the abysmal Soapstar Superstar. Need I say more?

Later, Grocerjack

So farewell then.........

Tony Banks. A proper MP in his day with a passionate nature and a fierce and sometimes cruel wit. He followed my beloved Chelsea with a passion unmatched in political-celeb fan circles. I once sat in the old Galleria with him in the Shed End on a Corporate jolly when we played Leicester a few years back and he was as loud as me, much to the chagrin of the collected Prawn Sandwich Brigade you tend to get there. I think he shared a similar hate relationship with Ken Bates as well, although Ken would never ban Banksie because he was if nothing else speaking honestly about what a curmudgeonly old goat Bates was. After the game, as we walked back to our respective tables he looked over to my bit and I caught his eye. He lifted his glass and with a knowing wink mouthed the words "keep the passion...good result". In fact he might have said "fucking good result* but I didn't notice as I'd gone a bit star struck at that point. The point was he had recognized in me a kindred spirit, that of the real football fan , the one who'll sit and eat the luxury free food of Corporate jollies, but in his heart wants to be in the terraces with the fans, singing, chanting and swearing. I guess the point is that although not all of his opinions were along my lines he had the inate ability to respect those on the opposite side of the fence in all walks of life. At that game he was sharing a table with true blue Tory Stephen "Shagger" Norris with whom he'd had many a political tussle both in The Commons and later in his failed attempt to be nominated to stand as Mayor of London. All throughout he afternoon they baited each other and were having a laugh, all political differences set aside in order to get behind the one set of Blues he truly loved - Chelsea FC.

I remember one other instance where he captured the feeling of supporting Chelsea perfectly. We reached the FA Cup final in 1997 having been trophyless for 27 years. For whatever reason it was the last time the BBC did the "all day" coverage and build up to the game. Cue Des Lynam at the peak of his presenting powers as he said "and now over to a true blue..the MP Tony Banks". He asked Banksie how he felt and commented that it must be great to be at the game and how much he must be relishing it. Banksie's reply was the EXACT summation of how I felt that morning

"Des...this has been the worst experience of my life...I couldn't sleep, I can't eat, my mouth is dry but I can't drink, my stomach is turning over in circles and I;ve never felt so awful about anything. It's been bloody torture!"

Even GMD smiled at that and looked at me as if to say "I think he's summed you up there as well!" And he had, for that day was as nerve racking as any I've encountered before or since. The level of expectation was so high that had we lost I think I might still be in therapy somewhere now!

His passion for animal rights was well documented and although it was too extreme for me it was also something to behold when he was in full debate about. He also shared a love of art that I have acquired over the years. I also felt that when he was Minister for Sport he was truly a man who understood the importance of Sport within the social fabric of this country. He knew the positive effect that success in any sport had on the beleagured people of Britain, and the feelgood factor it would induce. As a true football fan he more than any other Sports Minister before or since just how much the passion of sport can be a force for good in people. How it teaches you to accept defeat graciously (well unless it's Chelsea losing) and to win with dignity (again Chelsea excluded!).

I have a feeling that day he acknowledged me we could have been in a pub and he would have happily sat there and chewed the football cud over a few beers or glasses of wine until the night ended naturally with a handshake and a mischievous smile as he walked away. A true man of the people, he will no doubt be missed in politics but also at Stamford Bridge where everyone was his friend and he was everyone's friend.

RIP mate, and wherever you are KTBFFH.

Later, GrocerJack

How NOT to complain

Here is an edited transcript of my letter of complain to SKY about their total inability to install a dish, SKY+ and therefore let me have ChelseaTV. Hopefully you can spot the edits of what I really wanted to send and what I did actually send. And yes it is nothing more than a big sulk.

MR. JACK GROCER

Jack Palace

SmallishVillage Lane

SmallishVillage, Hampshire

4^th January 2006

British Sky Broadcasting Group

Customer Relations

Grant Way

Isleworth

Account Number FU/CK-0FF-U-SLIM3Y-CU/NTZ

Dear Morons@SKY TV,

With regard to my recent order for Sky + Multi-room at the listed address this letter is a letter of complaint tirade of built up hatred unfortunately with regards to what I consider to be very poor unbelievably pisspoor customer service and relations. The order was done via the affinity agreement you have recently signed with The Company and the associated staff offer to employees of The Company.

I ordered the equipment in good faith, the equipment being a Sky + box, along with two additional normal STB’s for a multi-room installation. Under the deal I paid £49 for the boxes and signed up for SkyWorld at the reduced rate of £21.50 per month for the first year. Is that simple enough for your amoeba like brain to comprehend? When signing up I also agreed to ditch my NTL telephone service in favour of BT Option 1, in lieu of transferring to Sky Talk Anytime phone package at £7.99 per month. On the day of my order being confirmed I asked NTL to terminate both TV and Telephone services and on the Sky rep’s fuckwits advice got the phone service cut over two days before the installation in order to ensure I could transfer to Sky Talk Anytime.

On the day of the Install (November 24^th) the Sky monkey brained/monkey trained non-installer turned up. Instead of “Good Morning…..” His first words were (and this is an exact quote)

“Your mobile isn’t working mate”

Charming was not my first thought. In fact my first thought was “Twat”, followed immediately by “Sky do train their staff well don’t they?”

I checked my mobile against what he was dialling and pointed out the fact that he was dialling the wrong number. He protested that it must have been printed wrong, but in fact the work order did have the correct number down, it was just his inability to read the number correctly that was at fault. Perhaps this moron hadn’t plugged in his “function as human being chip” instead of his “be an ignorant fatuous cunt” chip he uses when he goes out with his mates to get skulled on Carling and WKD every night. He then pointed out the fact that I was a Chelsea fan (not hard to detect as I was wearing a Chelsea Polo shirt on the day) and stated that he was a an Arsenal fan and that we had “bought the bloody league with bent Russian money”

I was slightly surprised by this level of familiarity which wasn’t done in a particularly customer friendly manner.was done as if I’d inadvertently wandered into The Clock End at Highbury just as we scored our 2^nd goal wearing a shirt saying Chelsea shit on Arsenal from a great height! He then stated immediately that he couldn’t do the job because my house is cladded. This much is true. Front and back are indeed cladded with decorative tiles. The non-installer stated that he wasn’t insured or authorised to drill through tiles This apparently simple question regarding cladding had not been asked of me by the initial Sky telephone sales rep.muppet. However each side of the house is ordinary brick to the roof with a clear South facing view as the house is detached. Translation – the dish can be positioned there with ease as there are no tiles within 3 feet of the position! I did point this out to the non-installer but he wasn’t convinced. I did say he could install the dish on either side and then run the cables through the brick into the garage and then to each room. Kapiche? I was happy to pay any extra for additional cabling. He Plant-brain then stated that he was not authorised or insured to do this either!. I’m not sure what he intended to do originally so I asked him whether he intended drilling through my uPVC window frames! Because frankly he was so fucking thick it was probably exactly what he wanted to do. I didn’t get an answer of course. He said he would check with his boss “Jamie” and so he disappeared for 5 minutes. On his return he said “Jamie says don’t fucking touch it” (presumably Jamie probably being a Spurs fan) and then informed me he had rung Sky and I could expect a phone call from them to arrange an “independent” install. Throughout the whole period he was rude, unhelpful and definitely unwilling to seek any alternatives despite me showing him at least two. I just got the feeling that he did not want to do the job. I even asked him if he could leave the equipment and I would install it with the help of friends. His answer was that only he was authorised to ring and get the cards activated. He disappeared with some haste and was pretty terse with his departing comments, along the lines of “nothing I can do mate, just one of those things”.

I then received a call from a Sky cretin rep (presumably the non-installations team) who said as the house was cladded it could not be equipped with Sky. I also remonstrated with this person that the house was normal brick on either side and that there was a route through the garage on one side or via the NTL cable entry point on the other. He was just as intransigent unbelievably thick and said that in his insufferably high pitched, cheerful, patronising and near indecipherable Scottish “I’ve got one over an Englishman” accent “nothing could be done it’s tough shit you stupid English bastard, that’s for Culloden and the clearances , we’ll refund the money someday when we can be fucking bothered and you’ll have to eat a massive slice of the Shit Sandwich from the Humble Pie lorry cancel the NTL cancellation”. Of course on this day I was already on BT for the phone and without the Sky install could not sign up to Sky Talk Anytime. I asked about arranging an “independent” install as suggested by the installer but was told “Sky don’t offer that service couldn’t give a fucking shit about you, you’ll have to get off your imperial, enslaving and oppressive English arse arrange it yourself by shopping around and that will mean we can’t do the same deal on the boxes or the SkyWorld package”. In other words The Company staff offer would not be valid on an independent install.

I took a days leave to be available for this non-install, all to no avail. I have had to eat a huge slice of shit sandwich/humble pie to get NTL to cancel the cancellation and get the “deal” I had with them reinstated. So, another delightful experience courtesy of SKYhite TV – how to grovel in order to retain something you already have! I am still waiting for BT to transfer the phone line back to NTL and in the interim have had a bill for £38.41 from them for the phone which is far more than I normally pay NTL, but then I don’t get any discounts from BT as I did with NTL. So, Sky’s pisspoor customer service has cost me a days leave and a higher than normal phone bill. Thanks for fuck all you moronic bunch of mindless, brainless, incompetent, festering pus ridden wankers

As you can understand I am very angry and upset with the way I was treated and of the costs I have incurred as a result of your own automaton like pre-programmed staff’s inappropriate and commission based greed driven recommendations regarding the phone, not least the loss of a days annual leave. A day that could have been spent doing something I like, such as playing golf, riding my bike with my family through sunlit country lanes, having an all day boozing session with mates, or just sitting in my own garden reading a book has been spent being pissed off by a lumbering corporate megalomaniacal company hell bent on seizing money and time from people and not delivering anything remotely close to what has been contractually agreed. Be assured this experience has been shared on our internal intranet discussion boards, as well as with as many friends as possible. I am not asking for any compensation, unless BT decide to apply a punitive charge for cancelling a contract after just two days but would like some explanation as to why potential high value customers mug punters such as me can be treated so poorly.shittily and with such utter contempt. Frankly people like me willing to pay the price of your top premium subscription after the special offer period had expired should receive better treatment than outlined here. In fact if Sky intend to be a serious company regarding customer acquisition and retention then I would expect them to be going out of their way kissing arse and sucking cocks to get my custom. In the interim, could you please arrange to have my details erased from all of your databases and to cease from sending me marketing propaganda regarding services you provide which I apparently cannot receive due to decorative tiles cladding the front and rear of Jack Palace.

Yours covered in bile and vomit, Faithfully

Jack the very annoyed Grocer

Same time every year

Every year around this time I get swollen glands in or around the throat and ear area. Well, OK the neck then. Every year I trot to the Good Doctors and every year he says the same thing.

Every year.

Every year I go and get a blood test which is inconclusive. Every year he decides I have an infection and that the debilitating pain is actually a good thing because it means my body is fighting the infection and thats what causes the pain.

Every year he refuses to give me anti-biotics and recommends Ibuprofen. Every year he also prescribes a nasal spray. Every year he links it to my sinuses becoming more frequently troublesome.

Every year this goes on for about 6 weeks. Every year I think it's neck cancer, throat cancer, or something similarly horrible. Every year I stop singing in the car in case this is making it worse.

Every year this happens immediately after the Christmas break where I haven't been near the office for a week or two. It never happens during the warmer months of the year.

Last year the Good Doctor decided finally that the the cause was my failing sinuses not draining away the mucus properly, allowing it to sit in the throat and then infect the glands and sometimes the throat. Last year he decided there was no real answer other than defying the laws of science and actually growing younger each year.

Still, it gets me a couple of days off work, so yet again proving the maxim that "every cloud has its silver lining". Of course these couple of days are not spent lying around catching up on DVD's or Podcasts, nor reading books I got for Christmas, nor just playing Football Manager 2006 for 2 whole days. No, they're spent catching up on all the crappy admin stuff around the house. This years "sickie" admin delights to sort are

1.) the cost of Christmas
2.) how to finance my teeth straightening,
3.) how to finance the mobile home we bought now that the wankers at the Building Society have refused to let us add to the mortgage
4.) fit a trip to Argos in to buy a replacement desk pedestal for the MFI one that collapsed in pieces like a demolished block of flats two days before Christmas
5.) can I afford my OU course this year?
6.) Why has the golf club subscription risen by £20 per month this year
7.) Why haven't NTL asked BT to return my phone line to their system - incompetence being the answer there.
8.) Write my letter of complaint to Sky about their fuckwit installers and staff - done (an edit to be posted later)

Thus proving the opposite maxim to the one quoted above - "that every silver lining has it's cloud".

Later, GrocerJack

Battle Stations

How are you ? Well? Have a good Christmas,? Enjoy the break? Didn't it go quickly! Christ, one minute I'm packing up and thinking about my week and a bit away from the office, and precisely one minute later I'm back at my desk thinking "funny...thought I had a break due to me?". How did my Christmas go the? Actually it wasn't too bad. I tend to endure Christmas Day as my house is taken over by hoardes of children running riot through it like speed crazed kids from Village of The damned. And yes I include my own in that evaluation. It's just not the sort of Christmas day I grew up with and therefore it's hard to adapt. For some the noise of kids screaming, shouting and playing drum kits/keyboards as their prezzies is joyous, but for me...well it just raises my blood pressure instantly and I end up smiling through gritted teeth for the latter part of the day. The morning is always nice though as my kids open their prezzies and the adults (me, GMD, The Grand Master, Audrey and our special guest Helpful Auntie) open ours. Helpful Auntie is a recent addition to Christmas Day. She has been down previously with her husband but unfortunately he died earlier this year so this was a new experience for her, Christmas without someone you've been with for 40 odd years. No doubt a new and rather unwelcome experience one would imagine. Why Helpful Auntie? Well, she's always doing something around the house. Making tea, helping with the cooking etc.

However, the day started with a present to me which frankly took the wind out of my sails and left me in a rather emotional state. And it was Teenager that did it. In brief, Teenager is the product of GMD's rather brief first marriage to Dickhead. Dickhead is a man who, no matter what you've seen or done, has seen or done it bigger, better or quicker than you. He lies and bullshits his way through life. In effect he lives in a Billy Liar themed alternative planet to the rest of us. Yes he's that sort of Dickhead. He proved his worth in his short marriage to GMD by being her childhood sweetheart for many years and then having an affair with another woman whilst GMD was pregnant with Teenager, having already been traumatized by an earlier miscarriage. Quality bloke huh?

Anyway, because of this and despite the fact that teenager has lived with me since the age of about 1, Teenager has had to use the surname on her birth certificate at school, and well everywhere a legal name was required. This has meant she has been missed at fire drills because they called out her name with his surname and has been referred to in letters from the school in the same way. Something I know she has never been happy with. Over the years Dickhead has seen less and less of he, not due to me or GMD, but because she is a growing young woman with her own values and friends. Stroppy, yes. Typically confused by teenagerhood, yes. Easily distracted, yes. In fact she has all the stereotypical symptoms associated with being a Teenager. She also has her own growing sense of independence and this is what has caused the decrease in her seeing him over the years. Context set? Right, on Christmas day she hands me a wrapped box which rattles. I am told I must open this first before anything else. I proceed to do just that. The box is a shoe box and the rattling things were just Christmas Tree decorations. However inside the box was also a certificate, and when I opened it up it was a legal document, signed by Dickhead, Teenager and witnesses, that Teenager had changed her surname from that belonging to Dickhead to that belonging to me.

She had done all of this off her own back and by her own devices. She asked him face to face if he would allow this as a Christmas present from her to "her Dad". He is a Dickhead but this must have hit hard, and to his credit he agreed and sad that this would be his Christmas present to her. I can't tell you what this did to me, but suffice it to say, the normally verbose Jack suddenly had a fit of being somewhat tongue tied, and frankly speechless. Every present after that seemed rather trivial to be honest. But I have revised my opinion of teenagers in general, and especially my own Teenager. She's a special one and no doubt. And so other news. I won the Battle of Boxing Day. This was the battle that GMD had decided to start by preventing me from going to see my beloved Chelsea play Fulham that day. Quite simply I put my foot down and said that the days when I was told what I can and can't do are gone, I'm 44 years old after all. I also recruited the covert help of The Grand Master, Audrey and several other friends to lobby in my favour. At least I thought it might be covert but in the end it was obvious that I had lobbied my lobbiers as it were. I also argued that after Christmas Day I deserved a few hours of Jacktime in more peaceful surroundings. believe me, the cacophony of noise at Stamford Bridge paled into insignificance against the competition between Christmas CD's, kids drum kits, electronic robopets, kids electronic keyboards and hand held microphones with built in amps! I didn't get the job I applied for before Christmas, but luckily I hadn't put too much hope on that. Just getting to the second interview stage was cathartic enough for me to snap out of my wage-slave depression. I liken it to reaching the final and losing. You can let it devastate you or you can treat it as a good learning experience. So I guess my days at work continue to be unchallenged, but buffered by plenty of "working" from home, days off to play golf , no arguments over long holidays and time to write this blog. See , life ain't so bad when looked at from another angle.

I also passed my exams that I took in October time, so am now a fully qualified IT Service Management professional. So, things begin to look up, and the lesson learned is don't think there are no surprises left. Good things come to those who wait as they say in the world of Guinness.

Later, GrocerJack