Normal Service Will Resume. Sometime.

I have no idea what's going to happen tomorrow. I know what could happen tomorrow, depending on how well or badly it goes. This could be the last time I post here for quite a while; hopefully not, but there's really no way of knowing for sure right now.

Anyhow, to the few people who have been reading, thanks. I'm glad I wasn't just talking to myself for the past few months.

Normal service will resume, at some point in the future. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.

In the meantime, here's the Test Card.

Bye.

Doctors And Lawyers

Today I've been to the hospital and the lawyer's office. I'm not sure which of the two was the more depressing.

I'm going to need further surgery on my ankle. It's not healing properly, and the alignment of the ankle in relation to the foot is all wrong. That's visible to the naked eye; my lower leg curves out to the side, and just doesn't look right at all. I'm going to be referred to yet another consultant who specialises in fixing things like this. It's a remote possibility, but a possibility all the same, that I may need an artificial lower limb. Just fucking great.

The less said about the visit to the lawyer, the better. So I'm saying nothing about it, other than that I'm going to be in court tomorrow. If this blog goes quiet in the near future, you'll know why.

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Wha-a-a-a-at? All day? You can't be serious. That's just impractical. You'd have to cancel everything for the rest of the day. And a quickie on your lunch break* would be totally out of the question. Unless you have a desk job, I guess. You could probably conceal it by sitting really close to the desk - being careful, of course, not to get jammed in there.

*As if.

There Goes The Weekend

Whooooosh! WTF was that? Oh, just another weekend passing faster than the speed of light. Seriously, what's going on? Is someone going around on Fridays nights and tampering with all the clocks to make them go twice as fast until Monday morning?

Sigh. I'm not working tomorrow. Instead I have to get up even earlier than normal for a morning appointment with the consultant at the hospital. It doesn't seem like three months since the last one, but I've checked the calendar and apparently it is. Maybe this proves that it isn't only the weekends that are going by too fast. On the plus side, having an early appointment means there's less chance of being kept waiting around for hours on end. Less chance, but not no chance. I'm hoping to get in, have an x-ray or two taken, and then be told that everything looks fine and I won't need further surgery (at least not in the immediate future). I just can't face the prospect of another spell in hospital - although a hip replacement is on the cards in the next couple of years. Joy.

Tomorrow afternoon, I have a meeting with my lawyer ahead of the court appearance on Tuesday. Looking forward to that even less.

Hey Santa Claus

Screw the iPod*. I want this.


*World Peace? That can take a hike, too. We both know it'll never happen.

The Late Bing Hitler

Blimey. Craig Ferguson has been named as the host of CBS' The Late Late Show. Brings back memories for me, I remember him being a brilliant stand-up comedian in the 80s and 90s. He played our local town hall in 1988, at around the same time as he started appearing under his own name, instead of his alter-ego Bing Hitler.

Bing, in case you don't know, was a mad-eyed, permanently angry Scotsman, who'd rant about anything and everything from whales to The Broons. A ranting Scotsman, can you imagine such a thing?

I went to another of his shows a few years later, and he was outstanding. Billy Connolly? Forget it. Ferguson could make him seem about as funny as a funeral. These days, of course, Billy can do that without any outside help.

Queen Tour 2005

Oh. My. God.

Apparently, it's really happening. Here it is, straight from the horse's* mouth.

*Roger Taylor

My Favourite Year

I've been thinking about this. I guess it was while I was sorting out my CD collection that it really hit me. 1989 was a fantastic year for music. Seriously.
Well, OK, it was a fantastic year for music I like.

Aerosmith: Pump
Bob Dylan: Oh Mercy
Daniel Lanois: Acadie
Don Henley: The End Of The Innocence
Elvis Costello: Spike
Fine Young Cannibals: The Raw And The Cooked
Lou Reed: New York
Madonna: Like A Prayer
Neil Young: Freedom
Paul McCartney: Flowers In The Dirt
Pixies: Doolittle
Queen: The Miracle
Rolling Stones: Steel Wheels
Roy Orbison: Mystery Girl
Tom Petty: Full Moon Fever
Tin Machine: Tin Machine
Traveling Wilburys: Volume One
XTC: Oranges And Lemons

Just think about that. All those fantastic records, in the space of a year. I don't think there has been anything like it since.

It's Shite Being Scottish

6 crap things about being Scottish.

1. Rotten teeth.
I blame Irn-Bru for this, unless it is libellous for me to do so, in which case I do not.

2. Ginger hairs.
Head/facial/other (delete as applicable).

3. Pronunciation problems.
Sample phone conversation:
Caller: Hello, is that Mr. Michaeljohn?
Big Al: Nope.
Caller: Mr Micklejohn?
Big Al: Nope.
Caller: Mr Michel-Jean?
Big Al: I'm Scottish, not French.
etc.

4. Gaelic TV Programmes on BBC2.
Less of a problem now that it has moved to Channel 4, but it was a real pisser when the rest of the UK was getting The Simpsons on BBC2 while we got a bunch of subtitled highlanders. Seriously, how many people speak Gaelic anymore? Three? Four?

5. Geographical confusion.
No, I don't know your uncle in Aberdeen. No, really. I don't.

6. Rotten teeth.
Yes, I know. But the one at the back is really playing up tonight.

Roy

This alphabetising of the CD collection is turning out to be a real hoot*. No, really. I now have Roy Orbison next to Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (The). Now, before anyone starts thinking I might actually have a cultured bone in my body, it's a recording of the Philharmonic performing the Queen Symphony - which is probably the most weird-ass CD in my collection**.

*OK, I'm easily amused.
**And it was a Christmas present, so don't start.

For The Beauty Of Wynona

Here's a rather annoying piece of censorship I discovered whilst copying one of my favourite CDs of the 90s onto the computer. Media Player correctly identified the CD as For The Beauty Of Wynona by Daniel Lanois, and displayed the CD artwork. Well, sort of. Here's what it came up with.

Hmm. Well, close, but it's not the version I'm familiar with. Here's what the original cover looks like, scanned from my own copy.

How ridiculous is that? And what kind of job is that for an adult, working out how best to position a 'C' in order to obscure a pair of nipples? A totally unnecessary piece of censorship*, if you ask me.

While I'm on about it, I should probably say it's a fantastic CD - as is Daniel's 1989 album, Acadie.

*And not just because I like looking at naked ladies. Although I do.

Adam Ant

A propos of nothing, I just noticed that 'Random Rant' sounds a bit like 'Adam Ant' - another inhabitant of my CD collection. Go ahead, laugh. See if I care.

For as we all know by now, ridicule is nothing to be scared of.

BT: Bastard Telecom

Not content with copying my CD collection onto the computer (still working on it), I'm putting some of my favourite viewing on there too. There's quite a few movies, including The Matrix and Apocalypse Now - and by the time I finish typing the post, both series of Little Britain should have completed copying on there too. Hurrah. Well, I figure I spend at least half my life in front of the computer, so it might as well have some entertainment value.

Thanks to BT I wasted half my evening trying to update Friends and Family phone numbers, in order to get some measly discount on the phone bill. Of course, their website was running slower than shit, and on the final confirmation of the new numbers, the whole thing just died on its arse. Thanks a bunch, BT. British Telecom? Bastard Telecom* more like.

Still in a slightly bad mood. You may have noticed.

*Of course I don't really mean that. What I really mean is Bastard-Fucking-Arseholes Telecom.

PowerOff (Geek Alert)

A quick mention for a cool application named PowerOff. It's a program that allows you to schedule a time for your computer to close down any open applications, and shut itself down. It does much more than that, but my main use for it is this - I can watch DVDs in bed and not have to worry about getting up to switch the computer off when they finish.

OK, I could achieve the same results through setting up a scheduled task to run shutdown.exe, but that's, like, effort.

Next, I want one of those USB remote controls. Lazy git.

Words Are My Tool*

For the first time ever, I was sorry when I had to leave the gym this morning. No, really. I'd done the parallel bars thing, the stretching thing, the walking-with-sticks-and-not-falling-over thing, the stairs thing, the step thing (different from the stairs thing), and was finishing up with the exercise-bike thing. While I was doing the usual gormless forward-pedalling as far as my knee would allow, and then back-pedalling, this girl arrived. Early twenties, I'm guessing. Blonde. Not entirely unattractive. Actually, entirely not unattractive. And judging by appearances, no stranger to a gym.

So, yes, I admit it. I was being a dirty old letch. I was enjoying the view. While she was doing something or other on one of those fiendish-looking exercise machines**, she turned in my direction and said something along the lines of "Boiling in here, isn't it?". OK, Al, this is it, this is your big chance to impress her with some incredibly witty rejoinder. Quick, Al, think of something...

"Yeah".

Brilliant. Oscar Wilde would have been proud of that one. Words are your tool.

*The reference to 'my tool' might reel in a few more Google perverts. You never know.
**Don't ask me the names of these things. I can identify an exercise bike, due to its similarity to a regular bike. Other than that, though, forget it.

Google

Ooh. Just been checking, and I've finally had some referrals from Google. Quite a flurry of them, in fact. All related to the nude Snow White post a while back. People looking for more information, or pictures, more likely. Well, at least I know where I stand.

Of course, a less mature-minded person would use this as a cheap opportunity to try and attract more hits by using phrases like teen slut, lesbian orgy and pictures of my ex-girlfriend.

But I'm above that sort of thing, obviously.

Best Invention Ever

If anyone were to ask me to nominate the best invention of all time (which I notice they have not), I think I know what I'd pick.

The electric light bulb? I think not. The television? Nope. The motor car? Hardly. The microwave oven? Don't make me laugh. The PC? Hah.

There's only one contender. The Easy-Reach grabber. For those lucky enough not to know, it's a handy little device that allows people with restricted movement to do awkward things like pull on socks and pick up dropped items from the floor.

Other (unadvertised) uses I have found for the grabber include:

1. Inserting and removing DVDs from the player (which sits just above floor level).
2. Removing cobwebs.
3. Changing the channel on my crappy remote-free bedroom TV.
4. Making scary shadow puppets.
   
5. Scratching hard-to-reach places.

Best invention ever.

Better Never Than Late

An occupational therapist showed up here this afternoon, to make arrangements for installing a rail at the front door to the house. I should explain, there are two steps up to the front door, and there's a handrail on one side. When I first got out of hospital, I was still a bit uneasy going up and down stairs, and felt that the rail stopped a little short, and maybe could do with being extended further at the top of the steps. That was four months ago. And today they finally get around to doing something about it. Phew, just in the nick of time, eh?

Suffice to say that I'm now a lot more confident on crutches and stairs* and the problem with the handrail is no longer a problem. So that was a wasted visit. Ho hum.

*But still using crutches. Bastard.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz

This working for a living is tiring stuff. At around 7 this evening I decided a short nap was in order. I woke up just after 9. I wouldn't mind, but evenings are short enough without losing two hours to sleep. Guess I'll just have to stay up until 3am to make up for it. Bad idea, though - I have a physio appointment at, wait for it, 8:45 tomorrow morning. 8:45? That's the middle of the night, FFS.

That's the great thing about working from home - I could fall out of bed at 8:59* and be at my desk for 9 sharp. I can finish work at 5:30pm and be home for, ooh... let's see... 5:30pm. Even better, I don't have to worry about the office dress code. For all they know, I could be sitting here in a clown suit, a Napoleon outfit, a Spiderman costume or my birthday suit**. It's more likely to be jeans and a sweatshirt though, just in case you're worrying.

*Although I'd rather not. It hurts.
**If only it weren't so damn cold.

Modern-Day Mr Men

I did this. Sorry.


Big Al in no way condones the use of drugs. You shouldn't do drugs. Drugs are bad, mmm-kay?

Music

I've embarked on the mammoth task of transferring my entire CD collection* onto my hard drive. It's going to take forever, but it'll be handy having it all in one place at last. I've never been quite sad enough to alphabetise my CDs, but Windows is conveniently doing that for me, placing Elton John next to Elvis Costello, the Ramones alongside Randy Newman, and Eminem snuggling up to Emmylou Harris. Who'd have thought?

I never realised it before, but it turns out that I have no fewer than three Midge Ure/Ultravox 'best-of' collections**. Three. All different, but basically the same. And an album by the Pooh Sticks, which I don't even remember buying, or for that matter, playing.

*Or as much of it as I can find.
**Note to self: Stop buying CDs when drunk.

Separated At Birth?

I knew Natalie Appleton's appearance on I'm A Nonentity, Get Me On TV reminded me of someone, but I just couldn't think who - until I saw her picture* next to one of this guy from the Harry Potter movies.

Could they by any chance be related? Separated at birth? Ever seen together in the same room?

*Natalie is the one on the right. I think.

fUZZYLOGIC

It was a very quiet night in the pub. Seriously, very quiet. If the place had been any more desolate, a tumbleweed rolling across the floor would not have looked out of place. The experience was enlivened though, by the presence of Glyn and Ben from local rock band fUZZYLOGIC. Local heroes at the moment, due to their success in representing Scotland in the final of the Global Battle Of The Bands.

As well as being a really cool bunch of guys, they rock like a bastard. Check out The Postman's Wife from their Authentic Hiss EP.

When they're famous (and they should be), remember I told you so.

Project: Cell Block Zeta

I'm going to apologise up front for this post. Actually, I should probably do that more often.

There's been some restructuring at work lately. The project developers (which includes me) have been split into small teams, or Project Cells, as they've been named. Sound wanky to you? Yep, me too.

Anyhow, there are Project Cells Alpha, Gamma, Delta, Epsilon and Zeta. I'm guessing Beta has been omitted due to the negative connotations of beta software. Each cell consists of one project co-ordinator and three or four developers. I'm not sure how they determined who would be in which cell, but it turns out that I'm in Project Cell Zeta.

To be honest I quite like the idea of being in Zeta.

Don't think Michael Douglas would be too happy though.

Gorgeous George

Blimey. George Galloway has won his libel case against the Daily Telegraph, which claimed he was in the pay of Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein. The MP for Glasgow Kelvin was awarded £150,000 in damages.

I'm willing to bet that tonight's news reports will dig out the old clip of George and his buddy Saddam, where George says, "Sir, I salute your courage, your strength, your indefatigability". Which George has since insisted was a comment aimed at the Iraqi people in general, rather than Saddam himself.

Of course.

Walter

We've known it for a while now, but today Walter Smith was officially named as the new manager of the Scotland football team. The former Rangers boss was unveiled as the successor to Berti Vogts, who 'resigned' a month ago.

Walter must be some sort of glutton for punishment - he visibly aged about thirty years during his time in charge at Rangers, so I hate to think what this job is going to do to him. Good luck Walter, you'll need it.

A Very Minor Rant

Not sure quite why I feel the need to rant about this one, but I do. Here's a short extract from a letter I received:

"If this time is unsuitable you must contact me at the above office and we can arrange an alternative time or date."

Charming. "You must contact me". How about, "please contact me"? Wouldn't that have been slightly less... arsey?

Just a small thing, but it's been annoying the hell out of me.

Music: Warren Zevon: Excitable Boy

Baby It's Cold Outside

Cold weather never used to bother me, due to the extra layer* of blubber I was carrying. In fact, I used to get really ticked off with co-workers complaining of being too cold in the office, while I was sitting on the other side of the room sweating my lardy arse off. Don't tell them this, but I used to turn up early for work, before anyone else, and go round turning all the radiators down. Or off. They always blamed the cleaners.

Anyhow, that's all changed. Instead of being permanently hot, now I'm permanently cold. Even in bed, where up until a few months ago, I'd happily have slept au naturel in all but the coldest weather**. Not anymore though. Now I can't go to bed in anything less than a t-shirt, shorts, three pairs of socks, a woolly jumper, thermal long-johns, snow-boots and a balaclava.

OK, I'm exaggerating a little, but you get the idea.

*Or layers.
**I'm sorry if that's too much detail, but no-one is forcing you to read this.

More Work-Related Stuff

Today was my last day of working afternoons-only. My holiday allowance for the year is pretty much used up now, so from tomorrow I'll be switching to a part-time working arrangement, working three full days per week - Monday, Wednesday and Friday. I always quite liked the idea of working a three-day week, but the associated drop in pay isn't quite so welcome. Anyhow, my Tuesday mornings are mostly taken up with physio fun, but Thursdays will be mine, all mine.

Except, of course, they won't. I know exactly how this is going to pan out. I'll spend most of Thursdays working. In fact, I'll probably get more done on Thursdays than on any of my official 'working days' - for the simple reason that I can. I'll be able to get on with work without any of the distractions of phone calls, emails, and all the other things that crop up.

Still, at least I won't have to get out of bed so early.

Talking of distractions, after owning my current mobile phone for almost nine months, I've finally figured out how to email photos from the phone camera. It turns out that the phone was set to Vodafone multimedia instead of O2 multimedia. You can see how I got a job in Technical, huh?

Snow White

From Yahoo News:

German Snow White sacked for posing nude

BERLIN (Reuters) - A German singer who plays Snow White
has lost her job at Dresden's Christmas market after
posing for nude photos in a bathtub, Bild newspaper says.

Market organisers sacked Samira, 22, after photos appeared
in Bild and other publications showing her lying naked in
a bathtub filled with soap suds and rose petals, Bild said
on Monday.

Samira, whose surname was not given, has played Snow White
for five years. Dresden's mayor and others who miss her
performance are asking that she be reinstated.


Oh my. She doesn't sound like the bashful type, does she? I'm sure she's not happy about being fired from her job, in fact she's probably more than a little grumpy. To be fair though, it was a pretty dopey thing to do. Anyhow, I'm off to bed now, as I'm feeling quite sleepy. Also, I think I might have a cold coming on - I've been sneezy all day. If it gets any worse I might have to go to the doc.

Robbie

No luck getting the photos off that CD. Well, I can get screen grabs from the disk, but the resolution is pretty crappy, to say the least. On the plus side, I found this scan of an old photo of my dad (Robbie), which I'm posting here for no other reason than I think it's a pretty cool pic.

I think it was taken some time in the late 1940s or possibly 50s. The bar in the background - The Lonsdale - is still there. Another Robbie - the visiting Mr Williams, no less - was spotted in there this summer.

D'oh! (again)

D'oh! I decided to do a bit of spring-cleaning* last night, specifically removing some of the more 'artistic' photographs that had accumulated on my hard drive (no idea where those came from). Seemed like a good idea at the time. Unfortunately, I got a little trigger-happy and inadvertantly deleted a bunch of photos I took last summer (perfectly innocent, honestly. No, really).

Of course, someone in my line of work would have the sense to take regular backups of important data. Hrrrrrmmmm, well...

I have a back-up of sorts, on a CD I created using DVD PixPlay a while ago. It's a slideshow type thing, so I'm going to see if I can extract the original photos from it. You never know, it might work.

*Or winter-cleaning, if you want to be pedantic.

Rangers 3 - 2 Hearts

Hurrah. Rangers beat Hearts 3-2 this afternoon to go top of the SPL table. One of my friends showed up (with beer) and we listened to the whole thing on Radio Scotland. Except the best reception to be had around here is through Sky Digital* - so basically, we were listening to the radio, on the TV. The weird part is, we both spent much of the time staring intently at the screen, although there was nothing to see but a blue screen with the name of the station and a brief description of the current programme. Don't know why we did that.

Another thing I don't get is why people go out to the pub of an evening with a group of friends, and instead of talking to the person sitting right next to them, spend half their time sending text messages and generally fannying about with mobile phones. Quite irritating, that one.

*I thought about including a link, but it's not like they need the free advertising.

I Hate Computers

I've just spent about an hour trying to get my picture to appear in the About Me section on this page. No matter what I did, it just wouldn't show up. The picture showed up fine on the Profile page, but not on here. Finally I figured it probably had something to do with me having made manual changes to my template. So, I went through the template, copied out all my changes, re-loaded the template, added the changes back in, republished and - bingo. There it is.

Worth the effort? Nope.

Ealing Groovy

Ouch. Sorry about that title.

Don't think it has stopped raining at all today - which gave me a convenient excuse to stay indoors in front of the TV. Not that there's much worth watching on there, so out came the DVD collection again. This afternoon I settled down to Kind Hearts And Coronets (the one where Alec Guinness plays eight members of the endangered D'Ascoyne family), another film I've seen a hundred times, but I still enjoy it every time.

Next up, The Ladykillers. Or possibly The Lavender Hill Mob. Aren't DVD box-sets great?

You Are NOT A Celebrity

I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here!

No - you are not a celebrity. In order for you to be a celebrity, people would need to have some idea of who you are, or what you do. That's a sort of minimum requirement. Being married to a celebrity does not automatically make you a celebrity. Neither does consuming copious amounts of illegal substances. And neither does being any of this lot:

Joe Pasquale - Squeaky voiced Z-list comedian. Punchable.
Paul Burrell - Formerly Princess Diana's butler. Does that count as 'celebrity'?
Sophie Anderton - I think she used to advertise bras, about ten years ago.
Antonio Fargas - Played Huggy Bear in Starsky & Hutch. A quarter of a century ago.
Fran Cosgrove - Never heard of him. (Yes, him).
Nancy Sorrell - No idea.
Sheila Ferguson - Allegedly Prince Charles's favourite pop musician. Enough said.

This has to be the most inaccurately-titled show on TV*. A more appropriate title would probably be I'm A Washed-Up Has-Been and/or Wannabe, Get Me On TV!**

*With the possible exception of Dead Ringers.
**Slightly less catchy, I admit.

Moan Moan Moan

I'm not going to start naming names here, but certain people are starting to seriously piss me off these days. I won't pretend that I don't complain from time to time, because I clearly do (you probably noticed). But some people seem to spend their entire life complaining from dawn till dusk, every day of the week. I reckon they're only actually happy when they're moaning about something or other. It makes me wonder what would happen if they had nothing to complain about - would they complain about that? Probably.

The bit that really bothers me is this - if you're going to complain about something, you should probably complain to someone who:

1. gives a shit
2. can do something about it

In other words, Not Me.

Er, I think I'm done ranting* for now.

*Maybe when I retire, I'll move into a little cottage** somewhere, and name it Dunrantin'
**I've heard all the cottaging jokes already, so don't bother.

Is It Friday Yet?

Today was my first full day of work, and I don't feel any the worse for it - my back's a bit sore, but other than that I don't feel any worse than usual. I got a medical report from one of the consultants at the hospital a few days ago, in which he noted that, as a result of my injuries, I would probably never be able to undertake an occupation involving standing, walking, lifting or carrying. Lucky break for me then, that my job largely involves sitting on my fat arse* for most of the day.

Back to working a half-day tomorrow though, which is a good way to wind down into the weekend. I don't have anything planned for the weekend, except maybe watching some movies I've recorded over the last few weeks, including Apocalypse Now and Memento.

The excitement just never starts.

*Actually not all that fat anymore.

Freddie

Believe it or not, it's 13 years to the day since Freddie Mercury shuffled off this mortal coil. I used this as an excuse (not that I need one) to dig out a few favourites from my Queen collection - if I had to choose, I'd have to admit to a preference for their mid-70s work, but I enjoy all their albums to some degree or other. Even the much-maligned Hot Space.

My Top Three looks like this:

1. A Night At The Opera
2. Queen II
3. Sheer Heart Attack

And while I'm on the subject, I was watching Max & Paddy's Road To Nowhere earlier. In one scene, Max was reminiscing about a former (diminutive) girlfriend...

Max: She was a kind of midget
Paddy: Isn't that a Queen song?

Full Frontal Nudity

No, not a cunning ploy to attract more visitors to this page (although if it works, what the heck). Just part of a description of series 2 of Little Britain. The good news is that BBC3 is showing the entire second series back-to-back this weekend. Woo-hoo!

This is the last chance to see the series in its original form, before it transfers to BBC1, where it will be toned down for a 'mainstream' audience.

From what I've heard, some sketches have been slightly altered to remove the more potentially offensive parts, while a few other sketches have been completely replaced in the BBC1 version of the show. So, Sunday night is the last chance to see Little Britain 2 in all its projectile-vomiting, cross-dressing, adult breast-feeding, full-frontal* glory.

*OK, most of the nudity wasn't for real - it was Matt Lucas in a fat female body-suit. But it still counts.

Stop... Hammer Time!

I wish to retract my remarks in a previous post, stating that this is a quiet place to live. For most of this evening, I heard:

Thump. Thump. Thump. Clatter. Thump. Thump. Bash. Thump. Crash. Thud. Thud. Thud. Bash. Thump. Thud. Clatter. Crash. Thump. Thumpity-thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

And so on. I think one of my neighbours is attempting to construct a garden shed. I can't see what's going on, but I can hear it just fine. Meanwhile, the new people across the road appear to have decided they need a section of the wall surrounding their garden removed, and that this work has to commence at some ridiculously early hour*.

I still remember the good old days when there was only one irritatingly noisy person around these here parts. Me. Guess I'm gonna have to turn the music up again.

*Anything before 9am qualifies here. I'm still only working afternoons, remember.

Who Are You, And What Have You Done With Big Al?

I'm considering starting working a couple of days, or maybe half-days, per week from the office instead of just working from home all the time. The company are quite eager to get me back to a more normal working pattern ASAP, which is flattering in a way, I suppose.

I don't know if all of my work colleagues will recognise me - a few haven't seen me since March (specifically those who didn't visit me in hospital, but I won't hold a grudge*). Back then, I estimate I was around 5 stone (or 70 pounds) heavier than I am now. That's hospital food for you.

Also, I had a slightly disastrous haircut at the weekend - I can't remember a time when it's ever been so short. In summer I wouldn't mind so much but Scotland recorded one of its coldest November nights in recent years on Saturday - and that's up against some strong competition. I'm concerned that my brain might freeze.

*Actually, I will. Bastards.

Me And Mrs Malaprop

Not content with sending me incomprehensible text messages, my mum is developing a tendency to speak in malapropisms. Well, perhaps malapropisms isn't quite the right word, but it's close.

For example, whenever she has occasion to mention Ulrika Jonsson, the name always comes out as Eureka Jonsson - as if Archimedes had found a Scandanavian TV presenter in his bath.

Today was the annual Wintertainment festival here. Unless you were talking to my mum, in which case it became Winterama. Which, to be fair, is no worse than the correct name.

Finally, the game show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire is now named How To Be A Millionaire. Apparently.

Men 2 - 0 Bhoys

Arf arf. I love using that title. In other words, Rangers made it two-in-a-row with a 2-0 victory over Celtic at Ibrox earlier this afternoon. Not content with merely being rubbish, Celtic had two players sent off (Alan Thompson and Chris Sutton). Celtic's lead over Rangers is now reduced to a single point.

As Monty Burns would say, 'Excellent'.

Embarrassment

My boss visited this afternoon to discuss my current working practices, i.e. working- afternoons only - from home. We also talked about plans for me to return to working from the office - something that he's keen to see happen as soon as possible. One thing holding me back, I guess, is my wariness of public transport - hobbling on and off trains, low seats, all that stuff.

He asked if my reluctance in this area was caused by embarrassment. This nearly provoked a full-blown rant - he seems to forget that I spent twenty weeks in hospital. Twenty weeks of being poked and prodded, having objects inserted into every imaginable orifice, pissing either through a tube or into a bottle, shitting into (or on a couple of regrettable occasions, not quite into) bedpans, being in traction and out of action, and at one point being unable to shit at all. For three weeks.

So what's left to be embarrassed about?

End of rant. I actually feel better for getting that out*.

*A bit like the time when I couldn't shit for three weeks. Did I mention that already?

The Walking Stick(s)

Another physio appointment this morning - on my previous visit, the physiotherapist said they might try me out on walking sticks instead of crutches today. Sure enough, this morning she produced a pair of sticks (the metallic sort at first). My first attempt was a bit wobbly, to say the least - but the same could be said for my first try with crutches (before which I'd been using a Zimmer frame).

The major difference is the sticks give you a lot less support than crutches. I can't put so much of my weight through the sticks, so it forces me to take more through my legs. And that, I guess, is precisely the intention.

A pair of wooden walking sticks were cut to size for me to take home and practice with. I feel like I have turned into my dad - except he at least had the sense to reach his fifties before his hips gave out (an outcome that I blamed on a lifetime of physical activity and exercise, particularly during his time in the Parachute Regiment - jumping out of airplanes can't be good for anyone's joints, I reckon).

It appears to be the weekend. Hurrah.

Sanity Clause

I know I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist it.

Roksana (12:17 AM) :
This is Santa Clause
Big Al (12:18 AM) :
hi, I want world peace, and an end to hunger please.
Big Al (12:18 AM) :
oh, and an iPod.
Big Al (12:19 AM) :
Hey, Santa, is it true that you only come once a year?

Radio Ga Ga

Saw the video for the Electric 6 cover version of Queen's Radio Ga Ga on the Kerrang channel earlier this evening. The video, much as expected, takes the piss quite heavily - but as cover versions go, it's damn good. I managed to get a couple of screen grabs, below.

Music: The Flaming Lips: Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots

Like A Rolling Stone

Rolling Stone magazine has named the top 500 songs of all time, as voted by a group of music writers, industry execs, songwriters and musicians.

Here's the top 3 - see if you can spot a pattern here.

1. Like A Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan
2. (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction - The Rolling Stones
3. Like A Rolling Stone - The Rolling Stones

OK, I lied about number 3. It was really Imagine by John Lennon.

Big Al's Get-Rich-Quick Schemes, #4392

OK, I'm gonna do it. Tomorrow. Easy money.

All I have to do is phone in to the Richard & Judy show and answer a piss-easy qualifying question to play the You Say, We Pay competition.

The competition goes something like this - R&J sit with their backs to a screen displaying images of movie stars, landmarks, everyday objects or whatever*. The caller describes whatever is being shown on the screen, and R&J try to guess what the caller is talking about. For each one they guess correctly within one minute, the caller gets £1000. Most contestants recently have been getting about seven correct answers, or (for the arithmetically challenged) £7000.

Seven grand for a minute's work? I'm having some of that, thanks.

*One of the items on today's show was a wigwam, for which the caller gave the clue, "It's where Indians live", prompting Richard and/or Judy to answer, "India". I'm sure the caller meant to say "Native Americans", which I believe is the politically correct version.

NB: I don't personally watch Richard & Judy. A friend told me about it. Please believe me.

The Office

Not that I'm obssessive or anything, but I've been spending a probably unhealthy amount of time watching The Office on DVD of late. It's a good thing it's on DVD, as tapes would probably have worn out by now. I've been through the whole lot time and time again, including special features, deleted scenes, out-takes, even the Easter Eggs. I guess it's one of those rare shows (like The Simpsons) that stand up to repeated viewings.

Anyway, I think I now know who the real star of the show is; Not David Brent (Ricky Gervais). Not Tim (Martin Freeman). Not Gareth (Mackenzie Crook). Not Finchy (Ralph Ineson). Not even Keith, the Scotch-egg-munching office fat bastard played by Ewan Macintosh.

It's this bloke, the office caretaker played by Ron Merchant*.

He only appears in a couple of episodes, and always does the same thing. He'll walk out of the store-room carrying some supplies, then catch sight of the camera, and stare, transfixed, into it.

OK, it doesn't sound like much when written down. But it's funny. No, really.

*Ron is the father of The Office co-writer/-director Stephen Merchant - who also appeared in the show as Gareth's mate Nathan (aka The Oggmonster, described by David Brent as a "lanky goggle-eyed freak").

Scotland 1 - 4 Sweden

Another fantastic result for Scotland, with a glorious 4-1 defeat at home to Sweden. I was confident that the departure of Berti Vogts would herald a new era for Scottish football, and it's pleasing to see that I have been proved right.

And another thing, I wanted to post this about an hour ago, but Blogger would have none of it. Temperamental bastard.

EastEnders Goes StateSiders

Make it stop. I think that's in danger of becoming my new catchphrase.

Fox Broadcasting has ordered six scripts for a US version of EastEnders. Good grief, haven't the Americans suffered enough? First it's four more years of Bozo in the White House, now this.

Or is this just the price to pay for The Office?

Wild At Heart

Surprisingly accurate...


Which File Extension are You?

Oooooh

It must be my lucky night...

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Hello Al

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Hello Darkness, My Old Friends

See what I did there?

Brian May and Roger Taylor of Queen being inducted into the UK Music Hall Of Fame by Justin and Dan from The Darkness.


Brian May: Thanks, can we have our act back now? And Freddie's clothes? Cheers.

Oops

I think I may have made a dreadful mistake. Back in March, I upgraded my mobile phone and, as I had fulfilled my twelve-month contract, I got to keep the old one. At the time, my mum was complaining about her phone (understandably - without being overly technical, it was shite).

Being the all-round nice person* that I am, I told her to take my old phone if she wanted it. It was, after all, only a year old. Not quite state-of-the-art, but certainly closer than the one she was currently using - which was more like state-of-the-Ark. A couple of weeks ago, she took me up on the offer.

All well and good. But now, for some reason, she has decided to experiment with text messaging, always aimed in my direction - with the following results:

1. hi al luv mum - Actually not a bad first effort.
2. [BLANK]
   
3. hi al hmmm spr - No idea. Possibly had one sherry too many.
4. hi al how are u lowe mum - Starting to get into abbreviations here. Don't get cocky now.
5. [BLANK] - Again.

On the plus side, she hasn't figured out email yet.

* modest, too.

Aaaaarrrrrggggghhhhh!

Big Al is in a very bad mood. Intemperate language may follow.

Unbelievable. My ISP decided to go tits-up at about 3:30 this afternoon, and was out of action until about 20 minutes ago. To make matters worse, I couldn't even phone their support line to shout at someone, as the phones at Virgin Net (yep, it's them) weren't being answered. I'm guessing because they had too many irate callers to cope with.

I came pretty close to kicking the PC under my desk, which would have been stupid for (at least) two reasons:

1. The PC I was actually using was the one on my desk.
2. It would have hurt like fuck. Bad foot and all that. So I hit it with my crutch instead.

Absolute madness. I got by without the Internet for over about twenty years, so how come I can't get through five net-free hours without turning into the Incredible Sulk?

Not Enough Time

That's another week just about over, then. I can't believe the speed with which the weeks (and particularly the weekends) are flying by. The four-and-a-half months I spent in hospital felt like a year, but the three months since I came home feels like one month. Not fair.

The problem is, there's so much I want to do but far too little time to do it in. Not helped by the fact that almost everything takes nearly twice as long as it used to.

Queen Rocks

Watched most of tonight's final of the UK Music Hall of Fame on Channel 4. Cliff Richard, The Rolling Stones, Queen, Michael Jackson and er, Robbie Williams were inducted.

After accepting their place in the Hall of Fame, Queen were joined on stage by Paul Rodgers (Free/Bad Company) to perform We Will Rock You and We Are The Champions. They were good too; Paul Rodgers did a great job with both songs, but Freddie was sorely missed. Would have been nice if John Deacon could have turned up too, but it looks like he's not interested anymore.

Rodgers and Queen closed the show with a performance of Free's All Right Now. They rocked.

D'oh!

The Tories have sacked their vice-chairman, the shadow arts minister Boris Johnson, in the wake of tabloid newspaper rumours about his private life. It was reported in some newspapers that Boris had an affair with a colleague - rumours that Boris dismissed as 'piffle'.

The Conservative Party leadership has said that its decision to sack Johnson was not based on a moral judgment of his behaviour, but on its belief that, in denying the reports, he had lied.

Or more plausibly, Johnson had to go. He didn't fit. He is likeable, charismatic, and displays more than a microscopic trace of a personality.

No place for that in the Tory party.


[80s reference] Ooh, little bit of politics. My name's Ben Elton. Goodnight!

Scotland 100 - 8 Japan

No, it's not a typo. That really does say 100 up there, next to the word Scotland. It's the score in today's rugby Test match at McDiarmid Park in Perth. Not a bad result, really.

So, unless the Scotland football team get themselves sorted out PDQ, I'm switching sports.

Question Time

That was weird. I just saw someone I know on TV - the surgeon who operated on my ankle was in the audience of Question Time, and asked the panel a question about Yasser Arafat.

PEBKAC

Oh boy. I'd forgotten what a pain in the ass some clients can be. There's one in particular who is really beginning to get on my nerves.

He keeps sending emails, complaining about some or other problem, which I deal with as quickly and courteously as possible (no, really). And this week I get a phone call from my boss telling me he'd taken a call from this same guy, saying that he'd reported a problem to me two days previously and heard nothing since. Huh. That would be nothing apart from the followup emails I sent and the voicemail messages I left for him, then.

And the cause of the problem? A SQL script sent out to him by one of my colleagues over a month ago, which he never bothered to run. My fault, obviously.

A definite case of PEBKAC*, if ever I saw one.

*Problem Exists Between Keyboard And Chair

Big Al And The Obsolete Technology

I normally do quite well when it comes to buying appliances, gadgets and gizmos. I've never owned a Betamax VCR or a Sinclair C5 (a ZX81 and just about every version of the ZX Spectrum, yes. But a C5, no).

That's not to say though, that I haven't accumulated an abundance of antiquated appliances. Far from it. Here are just a few of the Completely Redundant APpliances currently cluttering up Chez Big Al.

1. No fewer than three VCR's. None of which are ever used anymore, since the advent of the DVD recorder. The one in my bedroom isn't even hooked up to a TV anymore. Basically, it's a clock.
2. A black-and-white portable TV. Purchased when I was 11, for use with the ZX81.
   
3. A colour portable TV. Doesn't work properly - only displays pictures in B&W.
4. A hand-held scanner. Actually, I never got this to work, but was too embarrassed to take it back to the shop.
5. A US Robotics Sportster 14.4K modem. For that ultra-slow internet experience.
6. A flatbed scanner. There wasn't really much wrong with this, other than its apparent inability to withstand a frustrated kick or two.
7. A Casio solar-powered watch. A watch, powered by sunlight. In Scotland. Bad move.

Big Al Is A Happy Hun

At long last. Rangers have finally managed a win over arch-rivals Celtic, beating them 2-1 to reach the semi-finals of the CIS Insurance Cup. And about time too - this was their first victory against Celtic since way back in March 2003 (in the final of the same competition).

The two teams will play again, this time in an SPL match, on November 22nd. Would two in a row be too much to hope for?

Make It Stop

It gets worse. In the latest FIFA rankings, Scotland have fallen a further nine places. To 77th. This puts us behind such footballing titans as Congo, Angola, Ghana and Thailand.

Still, now that Berti Vogts has gone, it can only get better.

Can't it?

Worst Song Ever

A recent online poll of 1000 people to find the worst song of all time has produced the following results:

1. Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da - The Beatles
2. Fog on the Tyne - Gazza and Lindisfarne
3. I'll Do Anything For Love - Meat Loaf
4. Diamond Lights - Glenn Hoddle and Chris Waddle
5. We Will Rock You - 5ive featuring Queen

Hmm. No problem with 2 and 4 on that list. But Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da shouldn't be anywhere near the top of the list. Haven't these people heard Octopus's Garden? Sheeeesh.

And as for number 5, come off it - it's not a bad song. It's a great song, just a really crappy version of a great song.

Smoking (And They Banned It)*

Scotland's First Minister, Jack McConnell, has announced that a 'comprehensive ban' on smoking in public places will be introduced by the spring of 2006. I expect there'll be a fair amount of outcry from smokers, and from the pubs, clubs and restaurants concerned about loss of trade. Personally speaking, it suits me just fine. It'll be nice to come home after a night out, not smelling like someone with a 200-a-day habit.

And for another thing, the ban may well stop some people from going to the pub, but it might also bring in a whole new set of customers - people who currently steer clear of places with a smoky atmosphere.

*Sorry about the title - it was the best I could do at short notice.

Googlewhack, Part 2

Awww, poo. Apparently 'frogspawn' is not a valid word to qualify as part of a Googlewhack.

Googlewhack

Inspired by Dave Gorman's Googlewhack Adventure, I set off to find a Googlewhack* of my own. And I found one:

Frogspawn Alleviation

Just the one hit (at the time of writing!).

*A Googlewhack is what happens when two words are entered into Google, and it comes back with one, and only one hit.

No Pain No Gain

After my session at the gym this morning, the physiotherapist warned me that I might experience 'slight muscle pain' later in the day, and tomorrow. Yeah, in the same way that a person in the path of a tidal wave might soon experience 'slight moisture'.

I spent about fifteen minutes on an exercise bike, of all things. A pretty frustrating activity, as I don't have enough movement in my right knee to push the pedal all the way round; I had to pedal forward as far as I could, then back-pedal to get back to the starting position, and so on. And on.

It's all having its benefits though, despite the tedium. Walking is becoming easier, my ankle is moving a bit better (although it's never going to be anything close to perfect), and generally I feel fitter. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to throw these crutches away sometime.

Trailer Trash

Just watched the teaser trailer for Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. About fifteen times in a row. The movie is released on May 19th 2005 (exactly a week before my birthday, incidentally), and if this (very short) trailer is anything to go by, it's going to be well worth the wait. Almost makes up for not having a new Lord of the Rings movie to look forward to this Christmas.

Music: World Party: Egyptology

Poppycock

With the exception of all the fireworks, it's been a very quiet weekend. This afternoon I was at a birthday party for my cousin's daughter, who turned three today. She's a very bright kid with an unusual range of vocabulary for her age - the word poppycock seems to be a current favourite, as do a number of fairly awful knock-knock jokes, including:

Knock knock
Who's there?
Bear
Bear who?
Bear naked

Actually, not that bad for a 3-year old.

Music: Johnny Cash: American III: Solitary Man

Uncomfortably Dumb

OK, making President Bush seem dumb is like shooting fish in a barrel, but I can't help myself. You could fill books, in fact you could fill libraries full of books, with all the dumb things he's said. This one, though, is my personal favourite (today). It's not just dumb, it's terrifying.

Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.

Glad I'm on this side of the Atlantic.

Incoming Goods

According to an article on a German website, Brian May and Roger Taylor are considering the possibility of a new Queen album and tour next year. Well, I think that's what it said; my German isn't too hot, so I ran the article through the AltaVista Babelfish translator.

Anyhow, I'm not sure about this idea. It's been thirteen years since Freddie Mercury died, and as good as May and Taylor are, it's never going to be Queen without Freddie. Or for that matter, without John Deacon, who appears to have quietly gone into retirement. I don't have a problem with May and Taylor recording together - quite the opposite - but I'd rather they didn't call it Queen.

Back to Babelfish: amusingly, the title of the We Will Rock You musical translated as Incoming Goods Want Skirt You.

Now there's a show I'd pay to see. Possibly.

Bonfire Night

It's Fireworks Night again. Or Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes night. Whatever you want to call it, it's tonight. I've heard a few fireworks going off already, and no doubt I'll be hearing a lot more before the night is out.

As a kid, I used to love all that stuff. But after a while, once you've seen one fireworks display, you've seen 'em all. And when you have a dog in the house, fireworks become a real pain. Dogs in general, and ours in particular - hate fireworks. It wouldn't be quite so bad if it was only one night of the year, but it goes on for weeks. As soon as the shops start selling them, people start lighting them. Christmas starts in September, Bonfire Night starts in October.

So, uh, Happy New Year!

Doggy Style

OK, I wasn't planning to post pics here, but it's not often Max stays still long enough to take a half-decent photo of him. So this is quite a rare event.

Max, who doesn't like fireworks, attempting to hide under my desk.

Books, Part 2

I just remembered one that I left off my list a couple of posts ago.

• Stupid White Men - Michael Moore

How the heck did I manage to forget that one, after everything that's happened this week?

Big Al Is Typing Carefully

Someone* has just brought it to my attention that, by simply typing my name a little carelessly, I could go from being Big Al to being Bi Gal.

I guess it would save a lot of painful and expensive surgery.

*OK, it was me.

Books

For no reason other than boredom, here is a list of books I have read so far this year. The list is, I think, complete and in chronological order, most recent first.

• A Short History of Nearly Everything - Bill Bryson


• The Hippopotamus - Stephen Fry


• Dreamcatcher - Stephen King


• The Truth - Terry Pratchett


• The Silmarillion - J.R.R. Tolkien


• Everything's Eventual - Stephen King


• Angels And Demons - Dan Brown


• The DaVinci Code - Dan Brown


• The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night-Time - Mark Haddon


• Billy - Pamela Stephenson


• The Hanging Garden - Ian Rankin


• Bored Of The Rings - The Harvard Lampoon


• Waiting For Godalming - Robert Rankin

Dubya Pulls It Off

It's official, then. President Bush has been elected to a second term in office. How the hell did that happen?

The only explanation I can think of right now is a 'better-the-devil-you-know' attitude amongst the US electorate.

Maybe we're not getting the full picture, but on this side of the Atlantic Dubya is widely perceived as a buffoon. Maybe his policies are preferable to those of his opponent, John Kerry. Maybe people don't know what Kerry's policies are. Maybe Americans aren't prepared to entrust the 'war on terror' to Kerry. Maybe Bush isn't the monkey we see him as.

Or maybe, people are just scared of change.

Ho hum.

Big Al's Second Law

Immediately following a session of physiotherapy, you will feel considerably fitter and surprisingly free from pain. Ten minutes later, and for the rest of the day, you will feel like a big old sack of shit.

I am hobbling off to bed now.

Rocket Science For Dummies

Amazingly, quite a few people are still impressed by my job title. "Software developer," they'll say. "You must be awfully clever."

Yeah, right. What they don't know is that computers, unlike people, do exactly they're told. Mostly. You tell a computer to do something stupid, a computer will do something stupid. People, on the other hand, are perfectly capable of doing something stupid without having to be told.

The thing is, getting computers to do what you want them to do might look impressive to some folks, but as the saying goes, it's not rocket science.

All of which made me wonder - what do rocket scientists say when they want to play down the importance or difficulty of their job? "It's a great job, but it's not..."

Not what?

Or do they just say, "Well, it sure as hell beats being a software developer."

All this is basically just my way of noting that nothing of any interest happened today. Again.

Music: U2: All That You Can't Leave Behind

Parkinson's Law

Work expands to fill the time available for its completion.

I was first made of aware of the existence of this law in 1990, during my university days. There's definitely something in it, but it's just a little wide of the mark, in my experience.

Here then, is Big Al's Law.

Work expands to fill, and then massively exceed, the time available for its completion.

I am considering having this engraved on a plaque, which would then be placed on or near my desk.

Bye Bye Berti

At long last. Berti Vogts has finally resigned as manager of the Scotland football* team, citing 'disgraceful abuse' as the main reason for his decision. I'm not sure if this 'abuse' includes a load of Scotland fans chanting 'Berti, Berti, Get to f*ck' after the 1-1 draw with Moldova, but it's a possibility.

The truth, of course, is that Berti is jumping before he's pushed. His dismissal has been looming on the horizon like a big looming thing for quite a long time. To be fair, we can't solely blame Vogts for the shambolic state of our national squad. The pool of players currently available to him (and whoever succeeds him) are, frankly, a bunch of diddies. Even Alex Ferguson would struggle with this lot. Speaking of Ferguson, on his recent arrival back on home turf, a TV reporter asked if he was here in connection with the Scotland job. He almost fell over from laughing so hard. That'll be a 'no', then.

The question now is, who's willing to grasp the poisoned chalice? Walter Smith and Gordon Strachan are both reported to be in the frame for the Scotland job, but would either of them be mad enough to take it?

Not without a lobotomy or two, I'm guessing.

*soccer.

Simpsons

The funniest thing I saw on TV today came, not surprisingly, from The Simpsons. It's a line spoken by a Canadian customs official, to a bunch of US customs guys.

"Take a hike, you Shatner-stealing Mexico-touchers"

Made me laugh, anyways.

Sixties

The UK Music Hall Of Fame reached the 60s tonight. The nominated acts were The Beach Boys, Aretha Franklin, Bob Dylan, Diana Ross & The Supremes, James Brown, Jimi Hendrix, The Kinks, The Rolling Stones, Simon and Garfunkel, and The Velvet Underground.

Tough choice. The Beatles are already in - and if the Beatles are in, the Stones should be in too. Personally, I'm trying to decide between Dylan or Simon and Garfunkel. I think Dylan probably gets the vote, but it's a tough call.

And I'd have liked to see The Byrds on the shortlist. Ah well.

All Play And No Work

Technically, I was supposed to working round about now, but things being the way they are (specifically, me being a lazy git), it hasn't worked out that way. First, the Sunday papers distracted me. Secondly, the Plus TV channel has taken to showing Sherlock Holmes movies on Sunday afternoons. The old black-and-white ones, with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce. I'm a sucker for those - today it was Pursuit To Algiers. Thirdly, and fatally, when I finally got around to switching the computer on to do some work, I made the mistake of logging on to check my emails. And scan through a few newsgroups. And read a blog or two. And that's what knackered it, really.

Looks like it's going to be a busy evening.

Big Al Is Very Very Drunk

In the last few hours I have learned that:

Halloween pumpkin lanterns can be made to give off a more eerie glow (not to mention foul stench) by tipping monkey-nut shells onto the flame.

No kidding, they burn like nothing you have ever seen before. Although your friendly neighbourhood bartender may become less friendly as a consequence. It's rather impressive, though.

Music: Manic Street Preachers: The Love Of Richard Nixon

Fall Back

OK, brace yourself. I spent a large part of today, Saturday, working. Yes, you did read that correctly. Working. And unsurprisingly, I achieved far more in three-and-a-half hours today than on any other day over the previous two weeks.

Unsurprising, because there were no distracting phone calls from the office, and no emails demanding to be answered. No project co-ordinators asking for 'tiny favours' - which usually grow into 'massively time-consuming tasks which must completed now, if not sooner. Or else'.

As a result, while I'm not quite in the clear yet, I think a few more hours tomorrow should be enough to get me ahead of the game. In the meantime, the pub beckons.

I had the sheer (not necessary good) luck to see part of Strictly Come Dancing this evening. This is the BBC's idea of Saturday night entertainment. Movie blockbusters? Nah. How about some quality new comedy shows? Forget it. Ballroom dancing, that's what the punters want. A bunch of minor celebs noncing around with professional dancers, and (in the case of the male celebs anyway) looking like a right load of plonkers. The whole sorry spectacle is hosted by Natasha Kaplinsky and Bruce Forsyth (easily old enough to be her grandfather) and is, frankly, more camp than a row of tents.

I've just remembered that the clocks go back tonight, meaning an extra hour in bed. Although I would much prefer an extra hour in the pub.

Big Al Plays Guitar

Yes, it's true. Not very often and not very well, but it's still true. I can bash out a few chords when the mood takes me. If I'm really feeling good, I'll sing too. However, the less said about my singing voice, the better. In my head I sing like Freddie Mercury, but the outside world hears something entirely different. I once attempted a karaoke version of Bohemian Rhapsody with three friends, but this was mysteriously thwarted when the karaoke machine suddenly developed a technical fault.

And to this day I remember my dear old dad, on hearing my rendition of Queen's Who Wants To Live Forever, asking: "Is that difficult to sing? Because it's [expletive deleted] difficult to listen to".

Smells Like Rat Spirit

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Stuff

I was going through a drawer tonight, and found the box containing all the stuff that was salvaged from my car after the accident - my mum collected it, and brought it home for me. There wasn't a lot in there - a bunch of CDs and a DVD of a couple of shows I had recorded off the TV the night before the accident. I had planned to watch it during my lunchbreak at work.

The thing that amazed me was that all these disks survived completely intact. They survived an accident that mangled my car and mangled my body. And there they were, all in perfect condition. Not so much as a scratch on those notoriously fragile jewel cases.

Weird.

Blog Off

One of the neatest little things on Blogger is the navbar - that small strip along the top of the screen, with the 'Next Blog' button on it. The trouble is, though, pressing this button is almost guaranteed to take you to either a debt-consolidation site, some vague porn nonsense, or - likeliest of all - a US election blog. There must be millions of them. Please can we have some sort of filter option added so that we can bypass them? I'm sure there are lots of blogs worth reading out there, but the chances of finding them amongst the dross are negligible. Shame really.

If you'e lucky enough to avoid that lot, you're doing well - but you're probably not out of the woods yet. Wander a little and you'll probably encounter the dreaded TeenBlog. This one is easy to spot; the background is, almost without exception, black. The text will typically appear in the smallest font known to mankind, usually in a bewildering array of garish colours. The use of upper and lower case letters will be arbitrary. And spelling? The aim seems to be to deliberately spell as many words incorrectly as possible. U kNo Da KyNd oF Ting. What the hell is that about? And just to make sure they piss you off, they'll often change your mouse cursor from a perfectly reasonably pointing arrow into some ridiculous cartoon that leaves a trail of pixie-dust or love-hearts in its wake. Thanks a lot, I really need that.

And another thing: To those bloggers who have a 'Welcome to my site' popup message - JUST FUCKING STOP IT, OK?

Biting The Bullet

I decided today to tell a couple of colleagues about my current legal situation. My boss already knows, but I'd prefer word didn't get around the whole company just yet. The few people who know have been very supportive, if more than a little shocked by the whole thing. I'm really trying not to spend too much time thinking about it, and working in the afternoons at least gives me something else to concentrate on. I'm still finding it a bit tiring though; I suppose that's not surprising after months of doing almost nothing.

I don't plan to write any more about the court case in the immediate future - it's on my mind more than enough without dragging it up here into the bargain.

John Peel R.I.P.

The Radio 1 DJ John Peel passed away today while on holiday in Peru. A sad loss to music world - he championed countless up-and-coming artists. He was one of the original group of broadcasters on Radio 1, and had remained with the station ever since, long after all the others had departed. He was also one of the few presenters on the station who preferred the music to the sound of their own voice.

Me, I remember his occasional appearances on Top Of The Pops, back in the days when it was still presented by Radio 1 DJs. He always looked like a man about to collapse from terminal boredom brought on by the banality surrounding him - which was probably not far from the truth.

Good Day At The Office

Today I surprised myself by managing to work flat-out for the whole of my working day (i.e. the afternoon). Even better, I have results to prove it. There's nothing like a looming deadline for boosting motivation.

That's not to say I didn't avoid distraction completely. While I was busily (frantically, even) working away on one PC, the other was downloading a selection of (mostly) fine music using Deepnet's P2P feature. Today's playlist included, in no particular order, Franz Ferdinand, Bowling for Soup, Travis, Goldie Lookin' Chain and the magnificent David Brent performing the all-time classic Free Love Freeway - a guaranteed Christmas number one, if only they'd release it as a single. A good reason to buy The Office Christmas Special DVD, if not.

Big Al Is Easily Distracted

Today was supposed to be a catch-up day; I've fallen a tad behind on the piece of work due to be finished tomorrow. But, due to a combination of circumstances (namely visitors, new software and sheer laziness) it didn't quite pan out this way. Still, there's always tomorrow morning for a few extra hours.

Working from home isn't quite as easy as I thought it would be. I don't think any of my school report cards ever contained the phrase 'Easily distracted', but it certainly seems applicable now. In the office, everyone knows that web access is monitored, personal phone calls are discouraged, and it would be fairly obvious if anyone decided that watching Lord of the Rings DVDs was preferable to actually doing some work. No such problem at home, though.

I got a present of Bill Bryson's book A Short History of Nearly Everything today. It's probably not a book I would normally have picked for myself - only because I don't often go for non-fiction - but it looks like an interesting read. It's gone straight to the top of the 'to-read' pile (which is now quite tall).

Best music video: Eminem: Just Lose It

Deepnet (Geek Alert)

I downloaded the Deepnet web browser this afternoon, after reading a recommendation in one of the Sunday papers. So far it looks good; it has a lot of the same features I like in Firefox - tabbed browsing, RSS feeds, popup blocking - but where it wins over Firefox is its P2P file-sharing feature. I've already used this to download a few songs today (Jackson Browne and Warren Zevon, if you're wondering).

It also displays my employer's website correctly, which is more than Firefox does - although this is probably more of a reflection on the website than on the browser.

On the down side, I've become used to pressing the F6 key to get to the Address bar quickly. This works in both IE and Firefox, but not in Deepnet. On balance, though, I think I can live without it.

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Making your way in the world today takes everything you've got
Taking a break from all your worries sure would help a lot

Wouldn't you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go

Where everybody knows your name
And they're always glad you came
You wanna be where you can see
Our troubles are all the same
You wanna be where everybody knows
Your name

You wanna go where people know
People are all the same
You wanna go where everybody knows
Your name

Guess where I was tonight?

Best music video: Goldie Lookin' Chain: Your Mother's Got A Penis

Piss Off, Postie

I want Saturday postal deliveries abolished. I'm sick of getting bad-news mail at the weekend (generally bad-news mail comes in brown or windowed envelopes; if you find a brown, windowed envelope you know you're really screwed) and being unable to do anything about it until the following Monday. I'm talking about the kind of mail that makes you want to pick up the phone and scream at someone: "What the fuck are you doing to me, you bastards?!'. But, because it's the weekend, you can't. All you can do is stew over it for two days, and allow it to wreck your weekend.

I'm sure they do it on purpose. Can't you just picture the evil sods behind their desk on a Friday afternoon? "Put this in the mail tonight for me, would you? It'll really fuck up their weekend for them!".

Bastards, the lot of them.

2+2=5

Text message received today at 12:49pm:

Thanks for playing along with the The Great British Spelling Test last night. Your final score was 44. Look out for the next Great British Test coming soon!

Ah. Looks like my spelling is better than my ability to keep score.

A Bad Spell

Tonight, in one of my geekier moments, I decided to play along with the Great British Spelling Test on TV. I registered by texting my gender and age to the number given at the start of the show, and sent my answers for each round in the same way.

By my count, I got 43 correct answers out of 50 - way above the national average. Hurrah.

I don't have a great deal of faith in the texting system, though. At the end of the show, just before 10:30pm, viewers who texted their answers in were told they would shortly be receiving a message notifying them of their official score. Approximately an hour after that announcement, I received a text message... informing me that I had successfully registered, and reminding me to be sure to watch the show. Ah.

86% isn't bad though. (See, I can do arithmetic too).

And yes, I know I need to get out more.

Today's music: R.E.M.: In Time: The Best of R.E.M. 1988-2003

Car Alarm Chaos Theory

Occasionally someone will point out how lucky I am to live around here, because it's so quiet. Not just quiet, in the sense that not much happens (although that's true as well), but there is so little noise. My cousin - who lives in the south of England - visited a couple of years ago, and while we were walking home after a night out, he stopped in the street and said, "Listen to that...". I gave him what I imagine was a puzzled look, saying "I can't hear anything". This was, of course, his point. It was just after closing time on a Friday night, we were not far out of the town centre, and it was almost completely silent. No cars, no sirens, no drunken shouting, nothing. If I'd had a pin with me, I would probably have dropped it, just to check.

I was thinking about this last night whilst on the verge of drifting off to sleep, and noticing once more how quiet it was. It was at this moment that my mobile phone decided to alert me to the fact that its battery would soon need recharging, by playing an irritating little tune. Not content with doing this once, it will proceed to repeat this performance at regular intervals until action is taken to remedy the situation.

Here's a thought: Wouldn't the battery last a little longer if the phone didn't bother with this type of warning?

And another thing. Car alarms. Why are these still in use, when it's an accepted fact that they don't work? Your car alarm could be ringing for days on end, and no-one would pay a second's notice, because everyone knows the Car Alarm Chaos Theory; if a butterfly in Brazil flaps its wings, your car alarm will go off.

It has been said that if all the people in China were to simultaneously jump in the air, the tidal wave caused by their landing would go around the globe twice. And just think how many car alarms would go off.

Today's music: Gordon Lightfoot: If You Could Read My Mind

Doctor WhU2

Phew. That bit about the Raindancer tune being used as the new Doctor Who theme was merely a wind-up, designed to stop people complaining about the new logo (which, I think, is OK - not great, but it'll do). I've seen some speculation that U2 might record the DW theme - fuelled, I think, by their appearance last week on Top Of The Pops outside Television Centre, with a Tardis near the stage. If there's any truth in this, then... cool!! But I doubt it, really.

Had a very short physio session this morning, barely 30 minutes, and was back for around 9:30am. I feel more tired than usual though, but more because of working in the afternoon. But I'll get used to that quite soon, hopefully.

Doctor Who

I've just downloaded a tune called Calling Dr Who by Raindancer (nope, me neither) after reading that this is to be the theme tune to the new Doctor Who series. I desperately hope that this information (which I read on a Doctor Who newsgroup) is false, as it is a dismal, arse-wipingly awful pile of old cock.

Fortunately, the new logo for the series is marginally better. Not too cheesy. I considered downloading the logo as desktop wallpaper, but decided this would be a terminally sad and pathetic thing to do. Anyway, I have a nice picture of my doggy on there.

Work, Part 2

As promised, my boss brought along my work PC to the house today. Even better, he also brought a basket loaded with goodies - a present from the company for those people who couldn't make it to the summer party - wine, Pringles, cookies (the kind you eat) and a bunch of other stuff. Did I say wine?

I made a start on the first piece of work. True to form, I've done the easiest bit first to ease myself back into it. So far so good.

Work

I think I'm ready to start work again tomorrow. The last day I worked was March 15th, seven months ago. My boss is coming over here tomorrow with my PC from the office and my first assignment - a data download (in other words, taking a client's data from some other system into ours). It's a two-day job, but I've been given three days to complete it, which is probably wise. I took a three-week break over Christmas last year, and was mildly alarmed how much I'd forgotten by the time I went back. So after this long, I dread to think. I reckon it'll be OK, though - might just take me a bit of time to find my feet again.

Smoke Gets On Your Tits

I'd forgotten about the smoke in pubs - the clothes I was wearing last night were reeking of cigarette smoke, even though the pub was pretty quiet. I only saw two or three smokers, and none of them were particularly close to me. It must be a thousand times worse for the people who work there - as if spending your evenings listening to drunk people talking crap wasn't bad enough, you get to stink of other people's smoke into the bargain.

And another thing. On a completely unrelated subject, when did the Booker Prize become the Man Booker Prize? When did they sneak that in? And why? (see also Jif/Cif, Oil of Ulay/Olay).

OK, I know why they changed Jif to Cif - it's because the name Jif doesn't work in Spanish, due to the way the 'J' is pronounced in that language. Does this mean we'll someday have to change the name of Loch Ness to Lock Ness to allow for our southern neighbours who seem unable, or unwilling, to use the correct pronunciation? The same goes for Auld Lang Syne, which they seem to have renamed Old Lang Zyne. Where the heck did they get Zyne from? A hint: pretend you're singing about a sign, and it'll sound right.

New Look

Ever had one of those days where do you absolutely nothing, but somehow manage to stretch it out for the whole day? I just have.

The only thing I've done today is to change the template for this blog, as I thought the previous colour scheme was a wee bit hard on the eye. Not that I'm even sure if anyone other than me is reading this - only one person has left a comment so far, and he was a cretin anyway.

I think the new layout is better; fairly simple, clear and readable. Now all I need is something worth writing about and we'll be rockin-and-a-rollin.

Hello Hello It's Good To Be Back

So I finally made it to the pub tonight (or last night if we're being pedantic), after a seven-month absence. And nothing, absolutely nothing, give or take a member of bar staff or two, has changed. It was almost as if I'd never been away, other than getting a few free drinks and having a few people not recognise me. It's amazing what a bit of weight loss can do.

Had a slightly shorter physio session yesterday, but felt pretty good at the end of it. With my usual therapist off on holiday, I now had the choice of exercising at home by myself next week, or going in and seeing a different physiotherapist. I decided do take the second option, sometimes I need a bit of a push.

Music: The White Stripes: Elephant
Reading: Stephen Fry: The Hippopotamus

Lazy

I just realised that the bag containing all my stuff that I brought back from hospital is still sitting on a chair outside my bedroom. Still not unpacked. After over two months. That's pretty lazy, even by my standards. I had a quick rummage around inside, and found a whole stack of books which people gave me while I was laid up - so at least I won't be stuck for something to read for a while.

Another physio appointment tomorrow morning (9am, why does it have to be so feckin' early?), after which my regular physiotherapist is on holiday for a week. I'm not sure this is a good thing, given my current bone-idleness.

Today's music: Zwan: Mary Star of the Sea

Fitba

Looks like Scotland are almost certainly out of the 2006 World Cup, after scraping a 1-1 draw against the mighty Moldova. I didn't pay close attention to the match (I can't bring myself to watch Scotland games properly anymore) but the TV was on the background, so I had a rough idea of what was going on.

Berti Vogts' job as coach is said to be safe until it is arithmetically impossible for us to qualify. OK, at the moment, qualifying is still technically possible, but it's highly unlikely. And if we can't even beat Moldova, we don't really deserve to get there anyway.

Like Renton said, it's shite being Scottish.

Family Fuckwits

OK, I admit it. I've been watching reruns of Family Fortunes on Challenge TV. I'm sure the contestants must have been taking some sort of mind-altering substances, judging by a few of the answers they gave. Over the last two days alone, the following answers have been given (I've heard these before, and always doubted their authenticity - but I promise you, they're for real).

Q: Name a famous Scotsman
A: Jock

Q: Name a famous Scotsman
A: Vinnie Jones

Q: Name a bird with a long neck
A: Naomi Campbell

Here's another that I haven't seen personally, but I'm assured it's true...

Q: Name a song with the word 'moon' in the title
A: Blue Suede Moon

Today's music: The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band - Uncle Charlie & His Dog Teddy

Nude Bush

From the Yahoo News site:

Nude Bush taken off display

A painting of President Bush in the nude has been taken down from the wall at the City Museum in Washington, having been branded "unsuitable".

The painting, a caricature of the President, shows him reclining naked on a chaise longue, his head propped up by a pillow.

Myra Peabody Gossens, public relations consultant for the museum, said the exhibit was not what had been expected.

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Just out of curiosity I ran a Google Image Search on 'nude bush' to see if it would turn up a photo of this painting. Although it returned a high number of matches, I didn't quite find what I was looking for. On the plus side, I now have a new favourite website.