h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Oh, they didn't knock Jimmy McNulty's house down, did they? If he'd been English they'd have slapped a preservation order on it, called it a national monument and nailed up a blue plaque beside the door!

I've been up and down my last message trying to find the trap I cunningly set for you - the one you fell into and found yourself in the midst of poetic discourse - and almost succumbed (how awful for you). Being, in general, not the sort of person to inflict grievous poetry on a person that I bear no grudge, I'm a bit baffled. In fact, I give up. Where was it, this poetry region I allegedly recommended? You don't mean the hangover page do you?

I take it you've met my aunt then. That was a fairly accurate analysis of her Tesco trolley technique you gave. She and her elderly chums are lethal. They drive all before them. There's a wailing and a gnashing of teeth and a nursing of bruised toes and knees.

I'll be ready for them the next time RBS tries to force us into online banking. Barclays have just made another of their habitual cock-ups. They were on the news this evening - several of their customers having logged on only to find themselves perusing another bank customer's account details. You have to laugh don't you?

It sounds as though you now have the council pretty much where you want them. Slowly slowly catchee monkey, as some inscrutable oriental person's reported to have said. If you're still there when everyone else has left, they'll probably be desperate enough to give you a penthouse in the poshest part of town, just to be rid of you. If it weren't for the sewage farms down the road obliterating the smell of all else, I'm sure you'd have the scent of victory by now.

My boss too worried to go on holiday? That's a joke! His life's one long holiday. He goes abroad every year with his wife and goes off with his mates several times a year on golfing days, weekends and weeks. Can't get a stroke of work out of him. The positive thing about him is that he's well liked (even by me) and when he goes away, the 'phone never rings - but the moment he gets back, it doesn't stop ringing. My other boss and I were only remarking today how spooky it is how all the world seems to know when he isn't in the office. He was in London all day today and the 'phone didn't ring more than a couple of times. So when he goes off for a few days, he's swamped when he gets back - and I can look all innocent. I hate answering the 'phone. I think you have the right idea for dealing with your boss's calls - have all callers poised to ring him on the morning of his return. (Is there a smiley to represent an evil grin? )

Hehehe! Yes they probably would have blue plaqued Jimmy McNulty's house, and a TV crew would have been on hand to make a cheap half hour programme of the event.

OK time to see if my prediction about this link changing back to a hangover cure comes true. Here's the link you gave me http://www.h2g2.com/A10314 which takes me to a near empty page with another link called 'Tips' on the left hand side. Click on this for some poetry. I'm getting the awful feeling that we're going to be going round in circles on this one!

I heard about the Barclays ballsup on the news, and find it very amusing, in fact pretty hilarious. What with this, and closing a lot of village branches whilst running an ad campaign saying saying something along the lines of 'Big is best', they really are on the ball (if you'll excuse the sporting allusion). Now all we need is their cash machines to screw up after an 'upgrade' (Hmm, not that any bank's cash machine has ever, ever, ever screwed up according to the banks). About the only NUS campaign I remember was the "Boerclays" one from the 80s telling people not to bank with them cos of their South African links, perhaps this should be updated to Berkclays or something.

I'm currently almost ruled out of online banking as the Bank of Scotland only caters for PC users, so I'd have to go track down some shareware to even think about the idea. Somehow now, I don't think I'll be interested for a few years yet, so I'll just sit on the sidelines and laugh at the human guinea pigs.

Is this a Class A pun I see before me, about the boss not doing a stroke of work? Have you considered that it may just be the one person phoning him, Sharon in London? I think Mugwump of the Yard should investigate this affair. Hmm, maybe you're not the best choice for the job, aren't you a mattress or something? It'ld make things kinda difficult to tail him unobtrusively, tho I suppose you'ld be good at springing traps.

I think my boss is also coming back to a self-inflicted sacking on Monday as well as all his phone calls. One guy (who's never been on time for more than two days running and is a pain) took three days off last week saying he was sick (we knew he had set up a load of interviews), and came in on Friday asking what had happened to his wages. The other director asked him whether he wanted to continue working there, and he said no. Half an hour later we got a call from his brother asking if there were any vacancies! Yesterday, we got a phone call from this genius asking the director if he was out of a job! He was allowed to come in to work a week's notice as we're behind in orders because of the holidays, and now says he's refusing to leave.
Not only that, he asked for a sub on his wages! I'm bugging the boss's office on Monday, this should be a scream.

Well, I'll go to the foot of our stairs! How on earth did that happen? Somehow a zero got knocked off the end of the hangover address. It should have been http://www.h2g2.com/A103140 . Still, never mind - the wrong site was quite entertaining too. I was fairly impressed with rhyming couplet.

The thing that really surprised me about the Barclays bank PC banking fiasco was the number of customers they reported were using the service. Almost every other week some internet security issue comes to light. Why would anyone trust the internet environment with their bank account. I don't even trust my bank with my bank account. Trouble is, it's difficult to function without one and banks are like governments - it doesn't seem to matter which one you choose, you still get the same old nonsense. Why would you need to track down some shareware to use the online service, by the way?

I'd like to take credit for that pun, but it was a pure accident. I hadn't considered the possibility that it might just be the one person 'phoning him. We have an open-plan office so I get to eavesdrop on his conversations. If it's all Sharon in London, they must have a pretty elaborate code or a very odd relationship. If you met his wife, you'd understand why he wouldn't dare. She's a bit terrifying. He'd have to be feeling suicidal or at least willing to dice with death. Mugwumps aren't mattresses. What ever gave you that idea? I know the creature you mean but Mr Adam doesn't put indices in his books and I can't remember which book it was in, so I won't rifle through them all to find out what they're called. Wasn't it some name like "squashsomethingorother"? According to my dictionary, a Mugwump is a person of great importance or one who thinks themselves to be so. Well, I'm important to me - that's what counts. And what of yourself? I feel a Wumbeevil may have more legs than seem strictly necessary for a mammal - like a vine weevil for example. I'm prepared to be entirely mistaken - that happens.

Wow, there are dramas afoot at your gaff! I bet the tension's building. The hell of it is, this guy who's obviously not doing his job, and consequently, piling the burden of work he expects to get paid for onto his co-workers who probably won't be paid any extra for doing it, will very likely get away with it. He could drag your employer to a tribunal, cost them a packet and win. I'm glad I'm not an employer. How is this going to impact on your returning boss? Did he employ the guy or something? You might not need to bug the boss's office - they might oblige you by raising their voices. You never know your luck.

I was even more impressed by the hangover site, so impressed I had to put my feelings down in electrons and despatch them to the editor. Imagine advising people not to drink Pernod and beer, this is sacrilege. At the Wedding in Cana, did Jesus not turn the water into Pernod and Beer? Never mind your loaves and fishes, this was THE miracle.

I can't say I've ever had any trouble with internet ordering, (uh oh famous last words) which is more than I can say for using my credit card at the Temple of the Timmites - ah we'll just deduct £30 extra from this one.

As for the shareware and the bank, promise not to laugh. This is a Mac and according to the Bank of Scotland (amongst many, many others), I therefore don't exist.

Had a quick laugh imagining the 'elaborate code' and 'odd relationship'. Thank your boss for me, that should puzzle him.

Whilst at work today I spent a little time checking out a few things. Well why should I use an 0800 number at home for net access, when the boss can pay 4p/minute?

Turns out the swamp mattresses are all called Zem and are from Squornshellous Zeta, but don't seem to have a species name. I don't know what gave me the idea that Mugwumps were mattresses, other than it sounds an entirely suitable name for a swamp mattress from Squornshellous Zeta.

I checked Britannica for Mugwump and it originated with rebellious Republicans advising people to vote for the Democrat (Teddy Roosevelt) was a Mugwump). Seems the meaning has changed since then, tho not as much as I had imagined!

I ran checks on Wumbeevil today as well just to see if I had done a George Harrison and inadvertantly lifted it from somewhere, but it seems I am the only Wumbeevil on the planet, a product of too little sleep and too much caffeine and nicotine at 3am. You don't even get Bum weevils in any search engines I tried. Oh what a hard day at work, I'm knackered.

I don't think the amusing pain will be dragging anyone to a tribunal, he walked out about 21 months ago, to elope to Blackpool with his pregnant woman, after her father refused to let her see him. He returned last June and timed it perfectly as someone was just movin' on (voluntarily), so he got his old job back. So you could say my boss has been daft enough to employ not only me, but him...twice. I think it's still two years for a tribunal isn't it? Besides he left voluntarily, so I don't think he's got a hope.

Since then she's kicked him out of the house I don't know how many times (inc. last weekend), had him arrested, and her father has beaten him up. He's also got a female from Donegal chasing him for maintenance and six weeks before he decided to quit he got a £2000 bank loan from some lunatic bank manager, which he spent in three weeks. I swear this is all true and not in the least exaggerated. Oh yeah, he's just turned 19, amazing what you can cram into a few years after school isn't it?

His latest was when he asked if he would still be in a job when the boss got back. He was told he could come in on Monday morning to find out, but he hadn't a hope in hell. "Och, kinye no jist phone me n' let me know?"

Roll on Monday morning!

I'm pleased the hangover site moved you. I'll pop over and see what you ranted at the editor later. He seems to have been a talented boy, this Jesus dude. No wonder he was so popular with his (presumably) drinking buddies. I must confess (seems the appropriate paragraph for the job) I've never been tempted to mix pernod and beer. This probably indicates a sad lack of imagination on my part. Mind you, the fact that JC went for the loaves and fishes rather than the chips and fishes suggests a lack of salt and vinegar on his part.

I wouldn't expect to have any trouble using my credit card online straight off. I should think the system would be geared to lull you into a false sense of security over the course of several transactions before some spotty little hacker came along and emptied your account for you. I'm often tempted to order a book from Amazon but, upto now, I've resisted.

I've also been tempted to get a Mac from time to time. One of my cousins has been using them for years and considers them to be near perfect. Have you got one of those pretty ones where all the guts of the computer are incorporated into the back of the VDU? I wonder if I've been using the IBM compatible type and the MS software too long. Feels like it sometimes. But for all it's faults, this set up is flexible, upgradeable and relatively cheap.

I'll be sure to thank my boss for you. I'm always pleased to have an excuse to confuse him.

Lucky you to use an 0800 number for the internet. Is the provider any good? Is your time limited? Do you get slung off-line for no apparent reason on a regular basis? If the answer to the first Q is yes and the answer to the next 2 Qs are no, what service do you use? I'm prepared to change to get my telephone bill down.

It must have been the planet Squornshellous I was thinking of when I said I thought the mattresses were called "squashsomethingorothers". That gave me a bit of a buzz because it was years ago that I read the book and, as rotten as my memory may be, it's not as bad as I feared. I have to agree with you that Mugwump does sound kind of mattressy. I think it's an example of onomatopoeia - it's the sort of sound your mattress makes when you jump on it. I never knew Teddy Roosevelt was one. It does say something in one of my dictionaries about Mugwumps being politically aloof. Can't say I am though. Before the republicans and democrats got hold of it, I think it may have originally been an native American term meaning great chief. Can't say I am though.

The spoonerized version of you name did occur to me, but I thought no, can't be. For some reason I feel sure that weevils are all vegetarians and what would a vegetarian be doing associating with bums? Or maybe it's a type of weevil that goes for rotting fruit at it's sugar-turns-to-alcohol stage of fermentation and they've inadvertently, through no fault of their own, become bums as a result of being permanently pissed. Who knows. Anyway, it turns out that my speculations were way off the mark and you are, in fact, one of a kind and not a weevil at all.

Caffeine and nicotine and listening to the dawn chorus (it starts at about 4am down here - I'm assuming it starts earlier up there) must really set you up for work. You don't have to get in for 9 am do you? Or are you one of those lucky, lucky, lucky people who can get by on 3 or 4 hours sleep a night?

Your boss must be incredibly tolerant or else take a hell of a long time to learn or be absolutely desperate for people to do the work to take that nit wit back a second time. And the nit wit himself must seem very plausible on first meeting to take so many people in. He'll probably become a politician. In a few years time he'll be knocking on your door and asking for you vote. Cliff-hanger. To be continued Monday . . . Don't miss the final episode! The suspense must be killing you.

I've only mixed pernod and beer in my stomach, but I did go thru a phase of trying pernod with a lot of different mixers. |The best mixers IMHO were Creme de Menthe, and Cassis. WARNING:If you've just eaten, you may want to skip the next bit. The worst mixers I found for pernod were, in runner-up spot, green ginger. However the most foul combination known to Wumbeevilkind was pernod and tomato juice, ick, ick, ick! If you find yourself in a pub with rotten beer, try it. Everything else will taste like nectar afterwards...providing you can still drink!

Re: JC going for loaves and fishes instead of chips and fishes. This was mainly due to an oversight on the part of his old man, who hadn't thought out the implications of continental drift before saying "let there be potatoes".

This Mac is one of the tower ones, but my last was one of the all in one types. The trouble with it was a lack of expandability, and from the look of things the iMac's have followed in this great Apple tradition. I was toying with the idea of joining the seething masses at the intel altar, until I discovered that a quarter of my class had been hit with PC hardware problems. Add to this, my last PC died after 13 months (and 3 out of the 4 I've used have had some form of hardware failure), and that kinda settled it. Software problems I can put up with, but unreliable hardware is a definite no-no. I've now dealt with 5 Macs and haven't had a hint of any hardware trouble from any of them. I run Windows on this anyway, whenever I need to. You have a point about the price tho, I reckon this set-up probably cost about £500 more than its Wintel equivalent.

It's always a pleasure to confuse a boss, no matter how unknown they are to me!

No luck with the 0800 query. I'm with btinternet and hardly a night goes by without getting slung off, but it's no great hassle unless you're into chatrooms or ICQ, you just dial in again. My main complaint is that because I paid a year's subscription I can't join the £10/month pay thru your phonebill surftime scheme and extend my 0800 hours after midnight during the week. I figure the 0800 has already paid for the year's subscription, my last phone bill was £25. If you want to check out the ISPs offering surftime deals it's ... oops, it's gone. I'll need to check this out at work as I sent the page from there to my brother.

This midnight 'turn into a pumpkin or pay to stay connected' drawback with btinternet has led to a change in my sleep pattern. I used to come home and have a couple of hours kip while the soaps were on TV, and then another 2-3 hours from 4am, but now I'm ashamed to admit that I'm keeping almost normal hours except at weekends (tonight being an exception). Roll on next March when I can get back to real hours and going into work in a sleepy daze. About the birdies, around a month ago I think they were starting around 2.30-3am, but I forgot to listen out for them this morning. Helpful, eh?

Hmm, so you're a living example of Mugwump evolution, you've climbed down from the trees, political aloofness and great chiefdom. I suppose it could also be construed as everything tending towards disorder!

Please don't mention onoma *checks spelling* topoeia, no matter how relevant. It just brings back bad memories of school poetry. Aaargh! here comes "dulce et decorum" and "Not waving but drowning". I hope you feel guilty.

I've just checked, and the news for me is good - "two legs good, six legs weevil", tho I have in moments of desperation resorted to searching out rotten fruit, but Safeway's cheapo counter is another story.

I've been using my credit card online since late 97/early 98(?), so these hackers must be very patient chappies. Amazon are one of the best. Twice, courtesy of the local Post Office, books have went missing, and both times Amazon sent a replacement out within days, no questions asked. The reason I know it was the local post office is that after Amazon confirmed the second missing book had been sent, I phoned the local sorting office just to check, and it turned out that they had 'forgotten' to card me about an undelivered parcel. By the time I got this news back to Amazon, a replacement book was in transit, and they told me just to keep the first one as well.

I think the boss's thinking on Clydebank's finest was that no training was involved second time round = greater productivity = more money in his pocket, cos I honestly can't see any other reason (we'll ignore drink, drugs and insanity for now) for taking him back.

As for the pest knocking on my door, it'll make a change from knocking on his own when his woman has had the sense to lock him out. I think I might as well just go into work early today, as this'll give me two hours peace before a certain pest arrives for what (hopefully) will be his final day.

I think you may have succeeded in putting me off pernod.

Your defence of the loaves and fishes incident doesn't really stand up under close scrutiny. Spuds may have drifted off with South America and condiments may have been unavailable for some other reason, but the incident in question was supposed to be a miracle, wasn't it?

Aren't Macs all made by the same company (used to be Apple, perhaps still is)? If so, that could be the source of their reliability. All the machines I've ever had have been of the IBM *compatible* type. Not actual IBMs but clones of one type or another. They're all cobbled together from (usually the cheapest) components from a wide variety of manufactures - some of which clash with each other quite badly. Currently I have a scanner and one of those digital camera thingies that won't work together. I've had to uninstall the camera software altogether because when I try to use the scanner all I get is a slowly moving image of myself with a surprised/annoyed expression as the camera comes to life and does it's thing. Time Computers, who supplied the system, haven't a clue and the possible solutions they suggested didn't work. I'd have willingly paid £500 more for a reliable machine with all its bits working in harmony.

I thanked and thereby confused my boss today, as you suggested. It was a small pleasure that broke up an otherwise tedious day. I would have done it yesterday but he was being entertained by RBS. They played golf and didn't have the wit to let him win. Ridiculous isn't it? They spend all this money to wheedle round him and keep his custom and don't have the good sense to lose.

Wazungu was telling me about BT's service. I might go for it. I've had quite a lot of trouble with my current ISP but they seem to be improving so it's not something I'd do lightly. If there's one thing I really don't like, it's being wound up. And failing to get through half a dozen times and then getting slung out another half dozen times is apt to vex me. But my bill's going to be awesome next month. I'm not looking forward to it at all. I don't use chat rooms and I don't know what ICQs are so if BT's not toooo bad, it may be the remedy I seek. What's the difference between btinternet and surftime?

It sounds as though your body clock is also knackered - but you seem to find this state of affairs agreeable. Maybe you can cope with it because you need so little sleep. I find being awake an irritation and an intolerable interruption of my sleep. I like birds but when they start singing their raucous dawn chorus in the middle of the night, I could go off them. My sleep pattern certainly seems to tend towards disorder. It goes with the flow. Pointless trying to circumvent the second law of thermodynamics.

Scottish schools torture their charges with poetry too, do they? Did you get any of that Louise McNiece, Prayer Before Birth, that went:
"I am not yet borne: O hear me.
Let not the blood-sucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
club-footed ghoul come near me."

They knew how to get a kid's attention at my school, I can tell you. Sorry about that. You have a serious poetry allergy don't you? If McNiece is typical of Scots poets, that could explain why poetry gives you the heebie-jeebies.

Speaking of heebie-jeebies, I'm going to a wedding party tomorrow evening. A couple in their late 40's, second time round, should know better. The last couple who lived in the house they now live in, got married after 12 years of living happily together in an unfettered state, then fell out big-time less than a year later and had a very acrimonious divorce. I wonder if I should make some hangover preparations before I go.

No, no, no, don't blame the pernod. Take it out on the tomato juice and boycott it instead.

Giving the potatoes, loaves and fishes even closer scrutiny. Had JC conjured up potatoes, no one in the audience would have been remotely impressed (barring Incas with no sense of direction, of course) as they wouldn't have had a clue what they were, owing to continental drift and a gap in global communication at the time. They might even have thought they were soft stones for throwing at failed conjurers, and the incident would have become known as The Pelting from the Five Thousand.

I'm not sure that Apple actually manufacture Macs themselves any more (over here anyway), but they'll specify the components to be used, which could well be the reason for the reliability. Either that or I've just been very lucky. I like the sound of the scanner/camera clash, it must've been quite amusing the first time round, a bit like turning on the tap in the bathroom and the kitchen light comes on. I found Fuji's camera software was a bit buggy as well (tho nowhere near as bad as your problem), sometimes not recognising the camera was there at all. Eventually, I got fed up waiting for pics to make their way from the camera to computer and ended up buying one of those smartmedia readers which can transfer a whole card in less time than it used to take for one pic. Wouldn't be without it now.

I found that page I was looking for about surftime. It's at
http://www2.btwebworld.com/netgeneration/surft/html/home.html
Check out Freeserve (I only looked at that one cos my bro was talking about using it), if I'm reading it correctly they seem to be half the price of btinternet.

You have exposed my knowledge (or lack of it) of poetry, I've never heard of the poem you quoted (thankfully, I think the social work might be interested if this is taught in school). However I feel you're corrupting me, Wumbeevil's home page now features a mighty piece of wordcraft by that king of poets, William McGonagall. As you're just back from a wedding, you may still be sufficiently inebriated to survive the experience. This man taught the Vogons all they know.

Right, well the pernod's off the hook. I have half a bottle left in my recreational beverages cupboard and I hate waste.

Couldn't fault your logic on the loaves and fishes issue if we were talking raw materials rather than finished products. Had the exhausted, (bored?), hungry 5000 been presented with fish and chips, I doubt that chucking them at the host would have been the first idea to enter their heads. I do think "The Pelting of the Five Thousand" has a certain, pleasing ring to it though.

A lot of people who use IBM compatible type computers seem to have had no choice but to learn how to get inside and fix them. I, myself, have been known to get the lid off and rootle around under the hood on a few (desperate) occasions. But I don't want to have to do that. I don't have to get the back off my fridge/tv/vacuum cleaner/washing machine and sort it out because it's not functioning properly. The people who make all the other bits of equipment I use, seem to be able to cobble together reliable machines. It seems that the Mac manufacturers are also capable of producing a computer that's dependable. I like that idea. I sometimes consider getting some gizmo or other (like a decent camera for example) to use with my computer, but I usually decide to just forget it because it's bound to clash with something and cause me headaches. Then I'll wish I hadn't bothered. I think I might give a Mac a whirl next time.

Thanks for the btwebworld address. I've been over and had a look. It sounds good. I'd have to change my ISP to use it. One thing that looked open to abuse by BT was that if the service reached a certain level of activity "BT will instigate congestion control measures". In other words, they can just sling you off if it's busy. The internet's getting busier all the time and 'phone line capacity doesn't seem to be keeping up. I'll have my next bill in a little over a month. If it's as ugly as I'm anticipating, I expect I'll sign-up for BT's Surftime and btinternet. One of my friends uses Freeserve and has a lot of trouble getting through and staying connected.

That William McGonagall poem that now graces your home page, is one of the worst I've ever read. Was the man serious? Mr McNutter's were so very much better. Actually, Louise McNiece's were far superior. And in all probability even the poetry of Paula Nancy Millstone Jennings . . .

The wedding party didn't help. I didn't really want to go. Guilt drove me eventually. The "do" was in the garden of a farm-house in the middle of a field. There were 3 marquees, one with a stage where some clown was doing a turn with a glove puppet, flood-lighting sufficient to blind, 2 portaloos outside the back gate. The adjoining field was full of cars. The place was packed when I arrived (three and a half hours late). The first thing I saw was a small woman with peroxide blond hair, in a mock-leopard skin mini dress, teeter-tottering around in stiletto heels (remember this is in a field) arguing drunkenly with someone about how there's absolutely no way she's going to subject herself to the indignity of trying to use one of those B*$%&£^! portaloos. I spent 2 minutes trying to find the happy couple, to wish them the luck they'd undoubtedly need, couldn't find them, came home. Hit a hedge hog on the way. Stopped to find out what it was. It appeared unscathed so I apologised and put it in a field.

Damn, you spotted the hole in my potato argument. Tho, if the feeding of the five thousand was with fish'n'chips, then Billy Connolly's crucifixion sketch may have been more accurate than I first imagined, with the last supper being set in a Glasgow pub.

Aha so that's what "You have been disconnected" is, it's an instigated congestion control measure. I'd guess that all ISPs follow the same pattern of peaks and troughs in their service. I jumped ship from my last pay one (Netmatters) when it had plummeted to a worse service than some free ones after 18 months. I'll pass on the Freeserve news to my bro. I'd already noticed in work around six months ago that a lot of their email was taking 24 hours to arrive, but it seems to have been fixed now.

I'm glad you were impressed by McGonagall. Spike Milligan introduced me to the delights of his work when I was in my early teens. He was real, and was an actor/poet (or at least thought he was) who was, and is, worshipped for being so bad. If I remember right he used to hire out theatres so he could perform. There's even a McGonagall page somewhere on H2G2, but for more gems of bad poetry go to http://www.wmich.edu/english/tchg/lit/pms/bad/

You had me going with the PNM Jennings one, it took me nearly half an hour to remember where I'd heard the name.

In a vain bid at getting revenge for you introducing me to all this culture(!?), I'll just let you know that you can check your phone bill online at [Broken link removed by Moderator]If you succumb to this (and you'll need an old phone bill handy) you'll soon be lashing out with the credit card in momemnts of drunkenness or weakness!

I found this quite by accident today, but it seems pretty appropriate for your weekend, "Marriage is the triumph of imagination over intelligence. Second marriage is the triumph of hope over experience."

I'm sure I've seen that peroxide blonde in the fake leopard skin around here, maybe every city/town/village has one. I just wonder how many mock-leopards have had to die to clothe them all.

The hedgehog has asked me to tell you that you'll never be a lorry driver.

I believe I may have missed the Billy Connolly crucifixion sketch - was it good? A pub seems a superb choice of venue for a last supper but it would be a bit of a squeeze for the 5000 - even if they booked one of those big ugly modern pubs. While we're on the subject of BC, could you tell me what a "yin" is?

So ISP's are in the habit of deliberately cutting clients off, are they? I hadn't really thought about it. I sort of took it for granted that it was accidental, like when you 'phone someone and get the engaged tone. Now you tell me they do it with malice aforethought I'll feel justified in my sense of paranoia and persecution.

Impressed by McGonagall? Well, that's one way to put it. I had a look at the bad poetry. "Bad" hardly prepared me. I actually recognised the very first poem, "The Tay Bridge Disaster" (Which will be remember'd for a very long time). I must have seen some program about the bridge (Billy Connolly may have narrated - you know what he's like) and they read out this poem. It was years ago but that naff poem stuck in my mind.

That was indeed a subtle revenge you took. I tried to go and have a look at my bill. Even slung that extraneous "s" (after the http but before the ://) out of the address. But I got one of those "page cannot be displayed" errors. I expect everyone was feeling so happy that they all thought they'd better calm themselves down by going and having a look at their telephone bills - all at the same time. I'll try again later.

I liked the quote. It said it all.

You could be right about the woman in the mock-leopard skin dress. She looked strangely familiar to me too. I think local councils bought them in standard packs of 12 for free distribution to needy parties. Mock leopards are ever so common. You never see them though. They keep a low profile because they're very embarrassed about looking so tacky.

Why does the hedgehog talk to you? He never said a word to me. You just want to make me jealous because you can hear the voices and I can't. As a matter of fact I'd long since forgotten my ambition to be a lorry driver. Thanks for reminding me!

Billy Connolly's Crucifixion is one of the main early sketches (c.73/74?) which helped him make it up here. Only trouble is most of it is in Glaswegian. My fav line is from JC, "See you, Judas, you're reeeally gettin' oanma tits". It was set in the Saracen's Head Inn (Sarry Heid). Oh, "yin" is one. It's just used like "Hey, Big man/yin, geezalight"

I suppose it's just gonna be the way with ISPs. Good service attracts customers, leads to bad service, leads to new/more equipment installed or loss of custom or takeover (Compuserve, I think, got taken over by AOL when they hit a trough), which leads to an improvement in service etc. etc. That's how I look at it anyway, don't dare suggest anything sensible like keeping the modem:customer ratio constant by continually buying more equipment.

The Tay bridge one is the McGonagall poem that I've heard most often, tho not nearly often enough IMHO. No, doubt you'll beg to differ on that one!

The "s" in that link wasn't extraneous, but I think it's responsible for preventing it showing up as a link (I pasted it into the location bar just to check that it worked). That does happen quite often with BT, but the page always seems to reappear. You can also get to it thru this one, https://www.customer-service.bt.com/view_my_bill/owa/vmb_internet.vmb_who which seems to be working fine at 1.30am (handy eh?).

I've found a good (not sure that's the right word) time for spotting council surplus fake blondes in mock leopardskin is near a taxi rank just as the pubs close. They seem to be nocturnal as you never actually see them going to the pub/party/wedding in daylight (thankfully), so maybe the shyness of the mock leopard still has an effect even after its demise.

The hedgehog talked to me, because it recognised a kindred spirit. Cyclists and cute spiny mammals, we both get squashed by lorries. It wasn't on a bike by any chance was it?

Oh, yeah, Monday morning when the boss got back. Very quiet it was, but turns out that the loony finishes up this Friday. He went up to the Broo yesterday to get the forms to fill in, apparently he thinks he's going to get a crisis loan to help him pay his bank loan, even tho he officially stays with mumsy. Today he tried to tap the boss for £20 until Friday. Ah, the world loves a trier. If he wasn't such a pain, idiot and sponger, I'd feel sorrier for him, as somewhere in there, there's a decent guy trying to get out. Still, the thought of him breeding twice so far scares the crap outta me and brings me back to reality.

Yours ambivalently

"See you, Judas, you're reeeally gettin' oanma tits". That's in the bible? If that was in the bible, I'd have paid better attention at Sunday school.

I still subscribe to CompuServe. They make it so very difficult for you to unsubscribe. The service went to hell so I tried to unsubscribe but they said, no, you don't want to do that, you want to do this instead. Change to a pay as you go tariff then you can still be a CompuServe member and if you never use the service, you never have to pay anything. That way, if we are ever able to offer you a useable service again, you won't have to rejoin and you can just carry on where you left off. I haven't actually logged on for about a year. They probably have several million members who never visit them.

The McGonagall thing? You're right. I beg to differ. And that from a person who has a high tolerance to extraordinarily rotten poetry.

I got through to the BT site you gave me. First I got " Request Failed. We were unable to process your request at this time. Please try again later" Then I got "You are being re-directed to the new View My Bill service, please wait... " then I was through. I checked my bill and it was the most hideous thing I'd seen all day. I cleared the dog doo out of the back garden earlier so it did have something to compete with. I tried yesterday and got an unfamiliar error message at my first attempt. That was why I had a closer look at the address and decided the "s" had to go because you don't normally get an "s" in that position in a web site address. I know better now.

Yes, that's right. You do see those mock leopard-skin clad floosies at taxi ranks late at night (utterly failing to look kittenish). Where do they go from there, I wonder. Back to the council depot I expect. Next time I take a taxi, I'll have to remember to ask the driver.

The hedge hog was curled up in a wee timorous ball just like the highland's wee timorous beastie except pricklier. His little legs were a bit short for riding a cycle. He may have needed a trickcyclist though, by the time I'd finished terrorising him, poor little chap. And you, yourself must be very brave to ride a bike in the city. I wouldn't dare. I'd consider it suicidal madness. It's years since I rode a bike and, from what I remember of the experience, the lorries suck you in then blow you out as they go by. Is that an accurate memory or has it been distorted by the fear I felt at the time?

The nit's away on Friday then. That'll be a relief. He sort of entertained you though, didn't he? It's a bit of a shame if he is basically a nice guy afflicted with the personality of a complete prat. One of the boys where I work might be similarly afflicted. He winds me up and we even shout at each other occasionally, then I feel guilty because he does something helpful. He left his wife and 2 kids to spend his time in more interesting pursuits. I'd have no fundamental argument with that if he continued to carry out his obligations. But he seems to think the rest of us sad saps should pay for the upkeep of the family he chose to abandon. He wants to spend his earnings on fags, booze, holidays and his new romantic interests so he thinks the government should pay for his family. I've pointed out rather loudly on several occasions that the government pays for nothing - we tax payers are paying for the welfare of his poor kids and our taxes could be better spent elsewhere if it weren't for the likes of him. But I suppose that's just the way things are. There are people with rights and there are people with responsibilities and unfortunately they're often 2 completely separate groups of people. No need to guess which category your almost ex-colleague falls into. Funny how they all manage to be so infuriatingly fecund. The upside is that at least we know that our future ancestors aren't going to be exploited by their future ancestors - not unless the b******s find a way of cloning us using some hair or nail clippings we left behind.

Compuserve: I don't think you're alone in not using them somehow, we hardly ever get any enquiries in work from CS email addresses. Only two that I can remember.

Ah, a pleasant summer's day, high humidity and the sweet scent of doggie dos. One of the in-laws lived next door to an alsation breeder, and I remember the smell only too well, so I guess the phone bill must have been a cracker. There's another handy bit on that site somewhere that lets you change your Friends & Family numbers. Unfortunately BT have noticed that people might change their "Best Friend" before every expensive phone call and only let you change that number once every quarter. Damn, foiled again. "Re-inforcing national stereotypes?" Who, me? Did ye hear that Flossie ma braw wee woolly wonder? Whit a cheek.

I have just spent five seconds intensively thinking about what happens to leopardskin woman after she teeters into the taxi in her six inch stilettos, and have developed a rival theory to yours. I think they turn into taxi seat covers until the next nightfall. Hmmm, only seen at night, and I suppose the stilettos might be analogous to wooden stakes...

...Bram Stoker, what hast thou wrought?

Cycling thru Glasgow suddenly got better about six weeks ago, when they finally completed the cycle path thru the city centre, which was the bit that was always going to kill me (with people opening car doors right in front of me, the most likely initial factor in my demise). I don't think cycling on country roads is any safer, in fact it's probably a lot worse at night, between trying to stay on an unlit road and the quaint country tradition of driving back from the pub half-pissed. OK, it's not just in the country this happens, but the many licensed premises in the middle of nowhere encourages it (along with the 0.01% of a constable per square mile or whatever it is - he must have got hit real hard). I don't know how these pubs survive at all, if the one in your village has trouble.

Yes, the loony in work did break up many a dull day, and also helped surprise a few visitors in the office with the sudden bout of cursing directed at him, coming from upstairs. Sounds like he's got yet another frightening relative down south in your place, maybe they're twins seperated at birth or something. Is your version, constantly tapping money?

Our loony has now been round the rest of us and is wondering why no one will lend him £20 this week (he was still trying today), he doesn't seem to think he's a bad credit risk for some reason. Today's highlights included claiming he was in early (9.10am - he starts at 8.30), blaming the director who he verbally resigned to for his being out of a job, and leaving at 2.50pm to hand in forms at the Jobcentre half a mile away from which he never returned. Call me an optimist if you want, but I think I've just said goodbye. What a Crunchie day is beckoning!

About the breeding, I can only assume their are vastly more mutations than previously thought, or that some factor counteracts this pollution of the gene pool. It's either that or the folks who came down from the trees were Tefal men and we've been getting more moronic ever since, but no one has noticed. If so, where are all the phone hygienists? Uh oh! Is the rapid spreading of call centres a sign that the day of the phone hygienist is nigh? Incidentally, the mother of little loony number two was ...

... yep, you guessed, a hairdresser! For Nostradamus, read Douglas Adams.

Oh, and thanks for mentioning the cloning possibility, another sleepless night beckons!

It's nice to know that BT are on the ball and not being nearly so generous as they would have us believe. Who's national stereotype were you reinforcing? I thought Flossie was Taffy's special friend. You're not a Scots-Welsh cross are you?

Your theory regarding leopardskin woman/seat cover transformers is a worthy rival to my council depot storage area for naff party paraphernalia. It would explain a lot - like, why are some taxi seats so lumpy and why do they squeak for no apparent reason when plonk down onto them heavily with a bunch of keys in your back pocket, and so on. Of course, if it's true, then the taxi drivers must be in cahoots with those little women. Perhaps they're all space aliens - spying on us (in which case that tired, worn out, over exercised expression "get a life - space dudes" comes to mind or, in the immortal words of Lady Macbeth "out damned Alien" - that was the dog they had after Spot). And the councils must be in on it too. That would explain a lot about local government. You have me convinced!

Riding bikes on country roads at night is a very risky business. As you rightly point out, it's dark and motor vehicle drivers are apt to be half-cut frolickers returning home from country pubs - but the cyclists are often on a similar mission and in no better state themselves. Then there are the hedgehogs, rabbits and badgers to be avoided. I think you may have slightly over estimated the density of our constabulary. I very rarely spot one round here at night. In fact, I think the night-time country-side policeman may be a figment of some drunk's imagination. Or he may be a rumour put about by desperate pub landlords who need to sleep at some time.

Your workplace Golgafrincham-type and ours certainly seem to have things in common. One of the defining characteristics of the type is a very thick hide. They seem to be completely oblivious to other people's needs or the consequences of their own actions - a bit like psychopaths but without the malice. As I mentioned, I have a bit of a fracas with ours occasionally and what astounds me is that he just can't see it at all - the fact that he'll trample all over anybody to get what he wants, regardless of the pain or inconvenience it might cause the other person and he expects whoever's handy to get him out of any mess he's got himself into. He's like a spoiled brat only he's too big to give a clip round the ear.

I don't suppose it's that big a mystery why, given the breeding habits of these pests, there aren't more of them. I think their success is a recent phenomenon. Up until the advent of the welfare state, natural selection would have eliminated anything that useless. The balance has been upset.

What do you think of my new liver? Our local hospital/mortuary was selling off spare organs (they've got loads cos there are no surgeons to do any operations) and I spotted this little beauty under the sign "One careful owner" and thought I might need a new one after last weekend. It was only when I got it home and checked the log book that I found out the "careful owner" was George Best. Still, it seems to work better than my old one.

I think what started off the Lost Weekend was the sound of cat-stompers on Saturday morning. Glasgow was playing host to the world Bagpiping Championships and unfortunately it was within hearing distance of my house. Maybe it's tenant harrassment by the council to get us to move, I dunno, seems a bit extreme tho. I've never seen so many men in skirts wandering around Glasgow speaking in a foreign tongue which I'm told was 'English'.

I'm not a Welsh cross-breed, and therefore don't go around singing 'Land of my Haggis' in a constant downpour. I don't know if I've just been unlucky, but Wales seems to be one of the few places on the planet that is wetter than here. I wonder if 'Celtic' translates as 'Looks like rain again' or something?

Spot? Macbeth meets The Woodentops? You're not appearing at the Edinburgh Festival are you? Hmmm, I suppose there was that warning about some forest moving which could be construed as The Woodentops. This opens up a whole new field of possibilities, assassination by Dutch Elm disease being one that springs to mind.

That seems a good theory about the pub landlords spreading malicious rumours about country police, as the pub is the only place you hear of them. I've never seen one, plenty of houses with the little sign outside, but never any of the inhabitants. I wonder if almost all of the countryside police budget goes on these signs to attach to houses, and there is just one nomadic PC who works his way around the country saying 'Allo, allo, allo' in a variety of accents.

I went thru the drunken cyclist phase in my early 20s. It must have been my ambition at the time to get the fabled 'Drunk in charge of a bicycle' conviction or something. The worst was getting stuck at the bottom of the Clyde Tunnel and being unable to get back onto the bike and get it moving again because of the steep slope. Then some do-gooder nicked my bike, simultaneously saving my life, cursing humanity and foiling my ambition. It had been chained up in the same place for a few night's running right enough, as I'd been too tired and emotional to even think about using it.

Today was weird in work, with no one to swear at. Unfortunately this had the side effect of increasing my productivity, a dangerous and unexpected development that I'd better curb before the boss spots it.

I'm not so sure about the welfare state being entirely responsible for the survival of the Golgafrinchams. I think coal may have been the Black Kryptonite that held them in check. How many are going to get stuck inside chimneys now? How can you send their vile offspring down the mines when they've nearly all been shut?

You didn't pay for that "liver" did you? It looks a bit hard and the colour doesn't look right. What are all those green patches - lichens? It's not the liver George used to share with Oliver, is it? Or is it, in fact, a rock? Perhaps you should have it checked out by the AA as they're often able to get your money refunded if they find you've been sold a hopeless wreck.

I like the bagpipes but they do sound a bit like tormented cats. The bender got you through the caterwauling anyway, that's what matters. A friend of mine went to London the other day to have a look round the Tate Modern. She said that London seems to be infested with men in frocks at the moment. It's the latest fashion. I always thought kilts were rather butch (my dad used to have one and he was, well, hard) but now they're all the rage round Piccadilly. Speaking of which, did you see the Billy Connelly sketch about Bonny Prince Charlie? That was very funny.

I must confess that I am a Scots/Welsh cross, born in England. I just don't know who to pick a fight with. It's very confusing. You're right about the rain. I lived in Swansea for a while. A friend who was already in college there warned me not to leave home without a stout pair of wellies. Good advice. You can see why the sheep would get foot rot - no wellies!

I hope you're not going to slag off the Woodentops now. That was one of my favourite programmes - that and Rag-Tag and Bob-Tail and, of course, Bill and Ben the Flowerpot Men. Were those programme makers on something, do you suppose? I'm not in the least bit afraid of getting Dutch Elm disease because I'm not Dutch. If anyone's going to assassinate me, it's going to be the Inland Revenue. They keep changing the rules and sending new and more fiendishly incomprehensible and badly laid out forms for me to fill in. They'll keep piling on their rotten forms until one day (as in the case of the straw that broke the camels back) one form will push me over the edge and all the synapses in my poor little over-stressed brain will start firing wildly and chaotically and my head will explode, making (I hope) a horrible mess all over my desk and all the people who annoy me (so obviously it'll need to be a Friday).

Your wandering pc theory makes sense. I would add that all those (apparent) cctv(?) cameras in town centres are, in reality, holographic projectors for beaming images of policemen into the midst of gangs of pick-pockets. They must be on the brink of extinction and the authorities are trying to keep the public in the dark, just in case the break down in law and order degenerates into something really nasty.

If that busy-body do-gooder hadn't had it away with your wheels then, this would be a Wumbeevil-free planet and the history books would have told of a unique species of population: 1, with a novelty criminal record. Well, that's fate for you. You could've been a famous dead guy. Never mind, ah?

You miss him already and because he's gone your behaviour's altered in a way that's going to have the boss speeding up the conveyor belt on your production line. Isn't it funny the way getting your dearest wish come true can lead to unforeseen consequences that could wipe the smile off your face? If you'd kept your lump of lucky black Kryptonite in your pocket, you could have kept the worst excesses of the company idiot in check and he might have kept his job and kept you entertained and working at a sedate pace. If only ...

I did try to get the AA to inspect the liver, but they seemed more interested in selling me insurance than anything else. From the look of George Best today, he didn't have his liver inspected either, and I bet the AA wouldn't have tried to sell him life/illness insurance.

Is the men in frocks thing in London just the Jean Paul Gaultier thing gathering pace, or is this a new outbreak? I hope they're still wearing trousers under them or I'm gonna be careful who I'm sitting across from next time I'm down there on the tube.

You'll be pleased to hear that I'm not gonna slag the Woodentops, mainly because I don't remember much about them. That was the one with Any Pandy and Looby Lou (or something) wasn't it? I definitely think the makers of most kids progs are on some form of hallucinogen, tho The Magic Roundabout is surely the result of an overdose.

Are you ready for a good scream? Pity, I can't remember the last time I filled in a tax form, but it must be well over ten years. Still, look on the bright side, if all your synapses fire at once you might come up with the ultimate classic children's prog, just before your head explodes, and it's lost to the world of children's entertainment.

I'm not too sure about the cctv cameras being holographic projectors. If they are, we seem to have the wrong model around here. I think this place is classed as 'rural' after dark, you'll only see the occasional helicopter chasing a stolen car or something.

The pain actually had the cheek to come into work on Wednesday looking for his numero uno money supplier (who was lucky enough to be off on holiday). It's been a very strange week - sooo quiet and peaceful, except for that little interlude. Still, next week's going to be even better. It's my turn for a holiday. Time to get up at 5am and photograph everything about here before they knock it down.

On photography: I kept passing this billboard near the cycle path for Organics hair dye. The slogan was "Keeps hair colour so long you'll forget your natural one" and featured a woman in white bikini looking down inside the bottom half. So I took the camera along on Friday and got a pic of it. However, because of this, I was fortunate enough to have a 'first time in my life experience' and capture it on camera. There I was, cycling along a wooded bit of the cycle path, when I passed a drunk asleep in a wheelbarrow! I cycled round a corner and waited a few minutes (I'd woken him up) before sneaking back to get the pic. A classic that I'm sure will impress any would-be tourists when I put it on a webpage!

Strangely enough the council had offered us a house only 200 yards away from the wheelbarrow. Do you think they're trying to tell me something?

I've changed over to btinternet and surftime now. It seems to be working pretty well most of the time. People seem to invade the internet in swarms and then swarm off again. Between 6 pm and 9 pm then again between midnight and 2 am it's hard work getting anywhere with on-line activities. Anyway, at least I don't have to worry about running up a huge bill from now on.

If the AA wanted to insure you, you must've looked like a good risk to them. Didn't they try to get you to swear that you'd never suffered any ill health in the past and promise not to ever have any illness in the future?

I don't know the dynamics of the gentlemen's London frock scene. My friend told me about the kilt thing and she did say that, oddly enough, most of them seemed to be wearing both skirt and trousers. It sounded to me as though they couldn't make up their minds what to wear that morning and were, in any case, suffering an identity crisis. I wouldn't think you had any cause for concern on the tube - not unless you developed a nervous tick in one eye and gave the impression you were winking at one of the sartorially challenged gents.

Sorry you can't remember the Woodentops. They were the biz when I was little. I don't think they ever met Andy and Looby (not on the set at least). As far as I can remember, some Mary Whitehouse type had Andy Pandy and Looby Lou removed for behaviour unbecoming - something to do with that box they used to sleep in and Noddy and Big Ears bit the dust when some politically correct nit picker found fault with something or other. What was the Magic Roundabout all about? I couldn't make head or tail of it. I did like Dylan the Rabbit though.

It's filling in Inland Revenue forms that has turned me into the maniac I am. It's part of my job. If it were only tax returns I think I might have been holding onto my sanity (by a thread admittedly) today. The Revenue produces forms by the millions. You wouldn't believe the rules and regulations and forms I have to put up with, or in Revenuese "up with which I must put". They all seem to be designed by some bloke up at IR HQ who normally cleans the windows. He may be a great window cleaner but he has no skill in form design. If I write a kids prog just at the point prior to head detonation the poor little devils will have nightmares featuring HM Collector of Taxes. By the way, did you see on the news this week that the IR computer system to allow people to submit their tax returns electronically (only recently introduced) has now been dumped because it doesn't work, after having cost tax payers £400,000,000. Which looks more dramatic, all those zeros or putting it in words: FOUR HUNDRED MILLION POUNDS. Well, it's only tax payers money after all and, of course, they have nothing better to spend it on, do they?

If the local authority in your area can't even stump up the money for a couple of holographic constables don't you at least have a local volunteer lynch mob? We had a lynch mob here a few years ago and gradually, over the course of months, it evolved into a neighbourhood watch group. Our local police helicopter lodges near our village. It always seems to hover over the village for a while at about 2 am. I think that's part of the reason I go to bed about that time. When the police first got it everyone moaned because it woke them up in the early hours, but now we seem to have got used to it.

Hope you enjoy your holiday. By the time it's over you may feel so relaxed that the next time your ex colleague comes in to parasitize any available victim, you might lend him the money. Just kidding. As if . . .

Do you mean to spend the time photographing the old neighbourhood before it is no more? The billboard ad sounds good. Bimbo babble seems to have disappeared and bimbo ads have improved. Are you going to put the 'photos of the lady checking out her original hair colour and the sleeping inebriate on your h2g2 home page? I'd like to see them. I always thought wheelbarrows looked more comfortable than they strictly needed to be. Perhaps it was a council wheelbarrow, left there as a trap to entice unsuspecting drunks. Then they could be easily removed the next day with the minimum fuss while still asleep. They're probably just trying to make the area more pleasant so they can persuade you to move in.

BTinternet: I try and avoid the kiddiwinks time, tho I can't say I've noticed any problems after midnight. Maybe I'm just glad when I get cut off after midnight as it stops my phone bill going up.

Isn't it BUPA that want that insurance promise about not getting ill, and when you die it must be swiftly? The AA are about to up their premiums (I bet that's a shocker to you!). It was nice today, so I went on a run on the bike to see where the cycle path led in the opposite direction to work. Spotted six burnt-out cars in seven miles.

Andy Pandy had nothing to do with the Woodentops then? How will I be able to face polite society again, knowing that I've committed faux pas after faux pas? Woe is me. I remember part of the Noddy PC bit, he used to share a bed with Big Ears (phew, no typo there!). I'm also pretty sure that all the characters were of Caucasian wood until PC came along and introduced ebony. Haven't a clue what the Magic Roundabout is about, I think that's why it still appeals to me. Now I try and look for hidden drug messages whenever I'm lucky enough to catch it. Dylan was my fav as well. Even first time round, at some tender age, it was hard to think anything other than he was stoned.

I hadn't heard about the revenue dumping their computerised returns. I'm pretty sure I even saw an advert for it around two weeks ago! I'm definitely not jealous of your job. No offence, but it might be a difficult choice between that and McDonalds. Hmm, I suppose you also have to learn a new language in McDonalds (and I don't mean English before you say it). As usual this language has a weird syntax, you've got to put "Mc" in front of some things, but then there's the "Big Mac", and the Fillet o'Fish is excused altogether. OK maybe your job IS better than McDonalds. Also when it gets you down, just think that you don't have to resist the urge to kick in Ronald's idiotic smiling face every day. I've seen a life-size Ronald sitting on a bench facing the counter staff. Surely the HSE should look into this?

While I remember, I'm not familiar with the Billy Connolly sketch you mentioned. Do you know what it was on? I finally found the Eddie Izzard bit about what old women buy in supermarkets, it's hairnets and dogfood, and they go around shouting "I'M EIGHTY TWO YOU KNOW, I'M EIGHTY TWO". The hairnets are protection against people stealing their hair during the night. Is this your Aunt?

Shhh! Don't mention lynch mobs about here. Dalmarnock's in the Guinness Book of Records as the site of the last lynching in Britain, around 1926, if I remember right.

Yes I'm capturing the neighbourhood for posterity. I've taken some pics every day since Friday. I'll probably put up the ones I mentioned, on BTinternet as I have a ridiculous 2GB of webspace to play with. I'll try and find the instructions for uploading it one night this week.

I hardly ever watch ITV so am not too familiar with adverts that aren't shown during the football on Sky, and they're certainly not intended for a female audience, unless they drink John Smith's Bitter and use male deodorant. I find it hard to believe that Bimbo babble has died out. Don't you still get the ridiculous French accents in perfume ads, or doesn't that count? Must check your page again to get an accurate definition. It definitely sounds like a good idea for an entry to the guide, tho I think taping might be a good idea to protect your sanity from the women's progs that interrupt the ads.