I wanna tell you a story...

I was reminded of this classic gag yesterday by a colleague and ended up humming the classic crap song all evening.

Enjoy

Bnag!

My bike is being serviced today so I caught the train to work. I have to change trains at Woking station. Upon arriving at platform one the first thing I noticed was an unattended black plastic bucket containing a trowel and a spirit level with a small backpack perched on top of it. I asked myself what was missing from the picture; a bricklayer was missing from the picture, that's what. I looked up and down the platform for a likely looking candidate but saw only commuters, all engrossed in their newspapers, all reading about yesterdays bomb attacks in Madrid. Now, I spent several years in the RAF in my youth, served two tours of duty in Northern Ireland, lived in London. I've seen my share of bomb stories on TV, in the newspapers and once in real life. I reckon that I'm quite aware of what's happening around me. I'm not being sensational here and I'm not scare mongering. Bombs are not like bowling balls with fuses sticking out of the top and the word bomb written on them in large white letters. They are hidden in innocent looking everyday objects like backpacks. This small pile of belongings could easily have been a bomb. Woking station would be an ideal place to plant a bomb to cause the same kind of carnage we saw in Madrid yesterday. I resolved to report it to the station staff but then spotted Bob the Builder sauntering along the platform with a fag in one hand, a coffee in the other and not a care in the world. So, how come nobody else noticed this? How come this idiot walked away from his belongings? We've had enough practice with the IRA over the years to know that we do not leave packages unattended at railway stations. We all watched the news last night. Hello, wake up!

North Eastern wisdom

The Neveratossblog comment of the month award goes to Sujatin for her contribution to my earlier post about the benefits of Thai food when debugging programs. As Buddha once (may have) said "I'll have the Pad Thai Noodles please and… doh!, it’s an array index error!"

Buggerit

I spent the whole morning chasing a problem in one of the programs that I'm writing. I went to lunch, came back and found and fixed the problem in less than five minutes. Conclusion, Thai red beef curry and rice helps to solve programming problems.

I'll have the Surf and Turf please

An idea from the Neveratoss think-tank. I've worked out a way to keep everyone happy. We go ahead and ban hunting foxes with dogs; we go ahead and ban whale hunting with ships and harpoons. But, and here's the best bit, we allow whale hunting with dogs and we allow fox hunting with ships and harpoons. We also make it compulsory that you have to eat what you catch, all of it.

Fishing for answers

Sam saw our next door neighbour in his garden this morning.

Sam: "Who's that Mummy?"
Cathy: "That’s Hanna's Daddy."
Sam: "What's he called?"
Cathy: "He's called Mr Fisher."
Sam: "Where's his fishing rod?"