Help with lyrics

Can anyone help my colleague Simon and myself with the lyrics to that timeless classic, "Hitler, has only got one ball…"?

Moving the GGGGoalposts

Apparently they've got four of the little buggers tucked away in there. It can't be natural.

Update: Brace yourself Cathy, I’m afraid I’m going to have to frisk you when I get home.

The power of one

Dave and I went to the local pub last night for a swift one. Three hours and a gallon of Fuller's finest London Pride later we had: sorted out Iraq and the Middle East problem; improved the appalling standard of driving in this country; discussed and fixed various human rights issues; decided on starting up at least two business together; talked knowledgeably about ladies breasts at length. We then toddled off home for a nice Ruby. Lovely jubbly!

And whilst we're on the subject of Steve

A colleague has brought my attention to an article, The morphology of Steve, in The New Scientist about the National Center for Science Education’s Project Steve. Unfortunately, whilst I wholeheartedly agree with them, I can’t join them and wear the Project Steve T-Shirt on a minor technicality, I was selected out as I don't have a relevent PHD. I've got a couple of O'Levels and have read The Origin of the Species and Almost like a Whale, I wonder if that counts as relevant experience?

Top of the Google pops

According to Google I seem to be the number one Steve Rose on the interwebnet. That's fine until you consider that I've actually contributed nothing of any great interest or importance, to the internet, science or to society in general, compared to say Steve Rose (some of who's work I have read whilst barely scratching the surface of psychology at the Open University). It's nice to appear to be important, even if you're not…yet! Maybe if the other Steve Rose could find the time to keep a blog I could link to it and give him a Google boost: I'm sure that it would make for fine reading.

BTW: Google for Stephen Rose and you get a very different, and somewhat more respectable, result with hardly a mention of cosmetic anal bleaching or Naomi Watts naked (fnar fnar!).

The nasal warrior

With red rimmed eyes, a patina of perspiration shining on his pallid face, and nostrils a flaring, he snuffled and wheezed onto the train with what seemed like his penultimate breath. The nasal warrior, determined to soldier on to work in spite of a filthy cold, sat opposite me. He closed the window against the fresh, clean uninfected, mild autumnal air. Between a series of racking coughs and trumpeting sneezes he proceeded to vent his sinuses into a snot ridden handkerchief. The pervasive sweet smell of burning martyr and Vicks Vapour Rub reached me across the carriage; camouflaging the sinister airborne virus delivery system that immediately began its assault on my usual rude good health. Every fibre of my being wanted to scream at him, "Take the day off you contagious idiot. Go see the doctor. You're not that important. The world will continue to turn without you. Your colleagues and fellow commuters don't want your cold you selfish twit!".

I read the Independent, drank my coffee and tried not to breathe instead.

Overheard in the office

Is the Internet not working then?

Sometimes…

…you get to work on a well designed, well written, well tested, well documented piece of software. No, really, you do, sometimes. I'm doing just that today. I was given the task of system testing something a colleague wrote prior to leaving the company. Not only is it a pleasure to work with, I'm picking up some very useful tips about how to do things more thoroughly as well.