Friday, March 11, 2005

Gerroff me you humpy backed devil!

Dave Allen was one of the most irreverent of all the comedians of his time: he cocked a snook at religion (of all flavours) which is not a bad thing in my book. I remember watching his show as a kid and not quite "getting it". I remember the "ghost" story of how he lost his finger. I remember the joke about the (politically incorrect) hunchback's funeral. I remember him drinking his whisky and brushing away the cigarette ash with his missing finger. Do you think, as I do, that he's simply dead or do you think that he's spending eternity with an angry Irish Catholic God ramming red hot pokers up his arse?

Option "A" I think.

May your god go with you.

The joy of specs

Programming from a very detailed spec. Some people would call it typing.

As Marvin the Paranoid Android would say, "Here I am, brain the size of a planet...."

Aaaaaargh!

Thursday, March 10, 2005

You want chilli sauce on that?

I have had a theory for many years that if you eat kebabs whilst sober you will be ill.

Listen to me, I know what I'm talking about.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, Difficulté

When you go skiing in France you may come across the odd piste marked with a small yellow sign at the top which says, "Tres dificile". This does not mean that it is a slightly difficult run, or an easy run. It means that it is a "very difficult" run, with an emphasis on the "very" and on the "difficult".

When the French say that something is very difficult they mean it. They seem to like difficult. Where Mother Nature fails to provide them with the desired amount of difficulty, they have a special Government Department, Le Département de la Difficulté, which step in to compensate.

Skiers wear large cumbersome boots which are ideal for skiing but which tend to make walking, especially up and down stairs, "tres dificile". All French toilets are either up or down at least one flight very narrow, steep, slippery stairs. Toilets are allocated on a ratio of one toilet per 10,000 skiers to maintain the level of difficulty. Queuing is actually illegal. French toilets are very small. There is only one toilet roll in France which is allocated by Le Département de la Difficulté on a random basis.

Skiers, when not actually skiing, tend to have their hands full of skis, poles, gloves, goggles and stuff. Le Département de la Difficulté has a Sub-Department of Doors, Turnstiles, Gates and Obstacles, their role is to confound skiers on foot. No two doors, turnstiles, gates or obstacles are the same.

Le Département de la Difficulté prohibits a ski resort from having more than one lift of a particular type: this prevents skiers from working out which hand they need to have free prior to stumbling on board. A general rule of thumb here is that if you need to show your lift pass on the left then you will need your right hand free for grabbing the drag lift. If you present your lift pass to the lift attendant, he or she is bound by departmental procedure, to ignore you. If for any reason your pass is in your pocket, tangled in your poles or otherwise hard to get at then you will be required to show it.

Restaurants on the piste adhere rigidly to Le Département de la Difficulté guidelines: their quaintness obscures the fact that they are designed to be difficult for anyone over 1 metre tall or who weighs more than 20 kilos. French waiters make things difficult by ignoring your attempts at French by addressing you in perfect English. They will also make things difficult for you by ignoring your attempts to speak English to them by speaking perfect French.

Le Département de la Difficulté exists to prevent France from joining the rest of the world in its headlong rush into mind numbing Disney, McDonalds, Starbucks, Coke Cola sameness.

Vive Le Département de la Difficulté!

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Nitty Nora, the hair explorer

One of my enduring memories of school came to mind last week. Whatever happenend to Nitty Nora, the hair explorer? Sam and I got nits whilst on holiday. Between you, me and the gatepost, I think we may have taken them with us. I bet we caught them from one of those rough kids from the council estate.

Going downhill fast

I'm back from holiday, overwhelmed, as usual, by how much I love the mountains. I just spent a week skiing in the French Alps with my family and some good friends. Skiing is good for my soul: it gives me a sense of scale and puts things into perspective. It is difficult to think of the mundane whilst surrounded by the sheer beauty and scale of such a place. It is difficult to worry about your deadlines at work whilst up to your knees in fresh powder snow on a glacier. It is difficult to worry about your mortgage repayments whilst your little boy is shouting, "Faster Daddy, faster" as you snow plough him down the nursery slope. It is difficult to worry about anything as you try not to drop your bread into the cheese fondue.

Did I mention the free beer yet?