The Lazarus effect

After drinking 642 pints of Wife Beater (Stella Atrtois) last night, I felt rather rough this morning, I even had to call Ralph on the big white telephone. Suddenly, out of the blue, in the manner of the phoenix, I have risen from the ashes of my hangover to be reborn. Anyone fancy a pint?

Nicknames

Some rather childish people at work who shall remain nameless are playing at giving people nicknames. It seems that they have a rather odd view of yours truly.

The Nerd versus the Nanny State

Joining the Nerds (Simon and Andy) and Michael for beers this evening up London (The Stage Door near Waterloo if you're interested). We'd better be careful though, the Nanny State are clamping down on binge drinking so none of the usual anti-social behaviour: "smug dadism"; inciting hatred on the grounds of one's choice of IDE; discussing Extreme Programming in an extreme manner; slagging off the iSeries (Andy!); starting fights in kebab shops (Simon!); tripping up (Simon!); spilling drinks (Simon!); emptying the contents of one's briefcase all over the floor (Simon!); dressing smartly and having nice hair (Michael!); falling asleep on the train home (Moi!). In fact, we'll probably just have the ten pints of Wife Beater and wander off home.

Family UNfriendly campsites

Does anyone know of any family unfriendly campsites (ie: will accept large groups of blokes) in Cornwall or North Devon? Ideally twixt a good beach and a good pub with a dodgy kebab shop/Indian restaurant on the way home. Swiss Toni and I are trying to find a venue for his surfing, golfing, chilling and drinking stag weekend. Everywhere we have tried seem to require chaste, clean cut, born again christian type behaviour.

3.6 Million Coins in the Fountain

The Diana Memorial Hospital? No! The Diana Memorial School? No! The Diana Memorial Children’s Home? No! The Diana Memorial Defensive Driving Academy? No! The Diana Memorial Fountain? Yes, I can do you nice a fountain for £3.6 million. If Diana was indeed the saint that people say she was, she would be turning in her grave at the very idea of people pissing such an amount of money into a concrete trough. Maybe we, as a society, need to be rethinking our priorities a tad.

Another straw towards breaking the camel's back

Fitted to my motorcycle is an immobiliser: to stop the scumbags nicking it. Fitted to my key ring is a little control with a button on it to mobilise my immobiliser. The batteries are a little low. You know the kind, a bit like watch batteries but different, the batteries that no fucker sells, anywhere. Aaaaargh!

Those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer

Whilst Sam was in the bath last night he was chatting away to himself as three year olds often do. In a very plaintive little voice, to no-one in particular, he piped up with, "I wish my Mummy and Daddy would take me on holiday." It was enough to melt a heart of stone. I now have to convince my granite hearted, slave driving, horse whipping, Mr all Stick and no Carrot, project manager - who has already had his holidays with his family thank you very much - that a bloke needs to have more than one and a half days off per year: work life balance, and all that sort of Dilbertesque management, bollix, speak, theory, blah blah blah!

Wonderful spam, splendiferous spam

NeveratossBlog got comment spammed over the weekend, I'm not sure whether I should be annoyed or happy that someone thinks that my blog is worth spamming. A pain in the butt to clean up though.