Wii-ow!

I own a Wii. Now as a Wii owner, I have come to excpect a plethora, nay a myriad of injuries to be caused by excessive physical exertions. Due to the nature of the Wii, one is required to thrash around like a psychopath on crack, in order to reach the next level of Guitar Hero 3, or the Wii Sports boxing. There are a ton of videos of people on YouTube, causing themselves harm due to over zealous attempts to conquer the beast from Nintendo.

My niece even told me about a friend of hers who played one game solidly for a week, whilst on holiday, and ended up with RSI (Repetitive Strain Injury) from her efforts. She was 20.

So, I wasn't surprised when I began to feel various aches and pains following a frenzied session of Wii Sports Boxing and Tennis. I have to admit that the day after this Wii-binge, I actually thought I had appendicitis. That was until a very sweet friend of mine pointed out that my appendicitis was located on the wrong side of my body.'Nuff said.

So, I began to learn about the types of aches and strains I might expect whilst playing on the console. Funnily enough, my Xbox 360 caused me no problems whatsoever. This is probably due to the fact that the only movement required to play on the Xbox is that provided by my ten digits. And even then, it's not exactly strenuous. Also, I can play whilst lying, like a beached whale, on the sofa. Physical exertion and the Xbox 360 are not natural bedfellows.

So, back to the Wii. As I said, I felt I had learnt all the physical dangers of the little console. Howevr, it appears I was slightly wrong in this assumption.

One evening whilst playing Wii Sports Baseball, I was becoming more and more frustrated at not being able to hit a home run. Now with this game, you hold the controller as if it were a real baseball bat and swing it, with gusto, to 'hit' the ball. I was trying harder and harder to achieve a good 'hit' with the result that my right leg was sort of following through, with the momentum of each thrashing strike at the virtual baseball.

I was unaware that each time I lashed out with my controller, I was edging closer and closer towards the telly .... and the heavy, wooden unit on which it stood. Eventually, I took an almighy swing at the baseball and followed through with a massively powerful follow-through kick with my sock-clad foot. It struck the wooden unit with an impressive force. I believe I was heard to scream "F*cking f*ck!!!" before collapsing to the floor in quite exquisite agony.

I feared I may actually have fractured three of my toes. A bag of frozen chips was swiftly placed upon my battered tootsies and after a few minutes the pain began to subside. A quick check of my toes proved that they were still fully intact and so, bravely, I continued the game - complete with the bag of frozen chips sitting on my battered foot.

Two weeks later and the toes are still a little tender, but otherwise OK. So the lesson here is quite clear: don't act like a complete tit when playing on a Wii

And wear some shoes.

Virgin in the house

It was a bold step for me, but I knew I had to do it. I now have a Virgin in the house. Yes, BT were fine but expensive and slow. My internet is my lifeline and Virgin could give me what BT just couldn't. I'm talking broadband of course.

Well the chaps from Virgin took less than 90 minutes to install our shiny new Virgin phone line and broadband and everything worked perfectly, straight away. During the installation and being the type of person I am, I got chatting to them and discovered that being a Virgin installation bod can be quite exciting and even dangerous.

They told me that in some dodgy areas, large groups of kids follow their vans and then assemble en mass, waiting for any opportunity to avail themselves of the contents of their vehicles. Sometimes, the contents are just not enough for these young n'er-do-wells. Oh no. The Virgin chaps told me about a colleague of theirs who was on his own in his van when he got car-jacked (yeah I know it was a van, but that's the terminology) when he stopped at some traffic lights. They jumped in, booted him out and that was that. This was at 1.30 in the afternoon.

They also told me about this old grandad who made his grandson, aged six, crawl under the floorboards, for the length of the house in order to drag the Virgin cable to where the computer was. He made the poor little sod crawl through all the filth, spiders and general detritus you would expect to find under the floorboards, because he didn't want the cable running along his skirting boards and spoiling the decor. Needless to say, the little lad was crying as he tunnelled his way along, beneath his grandad's feet. I can't believe it. It's like the bloody 18th century when kids were made to clean chimneys for one shilling a year.

Well anyway, my new set-up is all working just beautifully and is twice as fast (4mb) as my old BT set-up. Even better, the speed is being increased to 10mb soon which is fantastic news for all of us who have Virgin broadband.

Even 'mole-boy' will be smiling again.

Pheromone failure?

My boss's boss at work was telling me that she's convinced that testosterone makes computers work. Stick with me on this. There was a problem with our 'puters at work the other week. I think the server had been used as a Breville Toastie by someone from Marketing or something. Anyway, everything was buggered and not responding - a bit like when ET's little heartbeat was beating feebly inside his teeny tiny alien chest...

Anyway, having no luck with the server, she called our IT support company. They went through loads of things over the phone, all to no avail. Eventually the chap on the other end of the phone said he'd just have to come over to see us in person. My boss's boss had also phoned our own IT bloke (who works part-time) and had another long phone call which resulted in the same decision. He decided to come in to work.

The two men arrived at my illustrious workplace at the same time. Sorry, I just said 'illustrious'. I meant to say 'lean-to'. I digress. The chaps headed up to the server room where they met with my boss's boss. The server was still operating about as well as a eunuch with Erectile Dysfuntion. It did not look good.

The two men stared at the server .... and it began to work! It really did. They literally came into the server room, looked at the mighty behemoth and it just began working again. My boss's boss is convinced that it was the men's combined flood of testosterone that did the trick.

Sounds like a load of b*llocks to me.

So iTouching

Oh what can I say? I am now one of those most terrible of things. An occasional blogger. Gone are the days of a posting every two days. I can only hope and pray ... well not exactly pray because I am an atheist, but anyway, I just hope I can return to form and start writing my own, unique brand of drivel a little more frequently. Enough of this. On to the subject of the post:

I am now the very proud owner of an iPod Touch. If you don't know what one is, then imagine an iPhone without the phone. OK, if you don't know what an iPhone is I give up. So, my 'Touch' is amazing and gorgeous and clever and, and ... well, just a bit special. When I've shown it to friends, family and colleagues they have (almost) all been truly impressed or even amazed at the almost magical way in which it works. The fact you have a flat glass screen with no buttons on creates an surreal experience when you start surfing the internet, flicking through your album collection, watching movies or sending emails.

If you get a chance to play with one or an iPhone, you'll certainly understand what I'm getting so hot and bothered about. Mind you, one or two people just didn't seem to appreciate the shiny technological marvel as much as me. Even demonstrating how you can zoom into a photo by 'pinching' your fingers across the glass, merely elicited a "hmmm" from one person. Obviously they are mentally deficient or have the IQ of a church. Never mind. These people where very much in the minority. Thank God ... if He does actually exist.

Since getting my new iPod last Saturday I have realised that I am trapped in a never-ending cycle of techno-lust. And I like it. True, it is one of the more expensive hobbies out there but for sheer, unadulterated pleasure involving shiny objects that need batteries (and I'm not talking about sex toys), you can't beat gadgets. They may have no soul or feelings but they spread joy, like a kind of happy wifi.

And I'm SO logged on to that.

Ups and downs

We all have our ups and downs and despite being a blogging legend, I too can feel the force of life's highs and lows. Winter doesn't help. Especially the miserable sodding affair that is the British winter. Rain, rain and more rain. It's enough to depress Mr Happy Hap McHappy from Happytown in Happyshire.

Nonetheless, us Brits are used to cack weather and so find ways and means of distracting ourselves during the long, dark winter months. One of these ways is to talk about the weather. Whilst meteorology is a fascinating subject, you can have too much of it, particularly when you've been getting soaked, blown and frozen by it for weeks on end. So I don't talk about the weather much between November and March.

Instead I prefer to revel in the joys of films, my Xbox 360, football, my iMac, food, shiny electrical objects of desire and my wife. Obviously this list is written in reverse order. So when confronted by a really crappy winter's day, I cheer myself with an hour or two of high definition machine-gunning and grenade-lobbing, followed by a joyous time in the kitchen, preparing my latest tuna-based culinary delight and topped off with a cracking film starring Sandra Bullock or that woman out of that film with the hair and eyes.

Suffice to say I have plenty of ammo in happy-happy-joy-joy arsenal to keep the winter blues at bay. However, talking of 'blues' - Birmingham lost today which has put me in a foul mood so I'm going to bed.

Winter my arse.

Microshaft

Now for fear of legal reasons I shall not use words such as "liars", "corrupt" or "bastards" in this posting. I shall merely convey my feelings with a subtle use of language.

Microsoft are fine purveyors of the art of the making of the 'porky pie' and have an inate ability to cleverly imitate the characters immortalised in that fine film by Francis Ford Coppola starring Marlon Brando and a horses' bonce. Oh, and they are bastards*. *Allegedly.

I'll cut the very, very long story short. I bought my Xbox 360 in May 06. It broke in November o6 and was repaired, under warranty, by Mircosoft. It broke and died in July 07 - two months outside its' one-year warranty. It's death is a mystery, but basically, there's no power, no lights, nothin'.

After several million phone calls and the odd email, the delightful lady at Microsoft informed me that had my original Xbox breakdown been due to the '3 red lights' issue then I would have been alright. By the '3 red lights' issue, she meant the well-publicised hardware problem that many Xbox 360's suffered. Microsoft admitted this problem and promised to repair all affected consoles, including those out of warranty, for free.

When my Xbox broke in November, it was not due to the '3 red lights' issue, but another crippling hardware failure. Had it failed because of the sodding red lights thingy, I would have been given a whole years' worth of additional warranty. This would have meant that when my console died this July ... it would have been covered by the new warranty and repaired for free. Instead, they will charge me £70 to have it fixed.

The woman on the phone actually agreed with me when I said that it was clear that my console had suffered the 'wrong sort' of breakdown in November. Yes, she agreed! If you look around the Tinterweb, you'll find plenty of information about the huge number of Xbox 360 failures there have been since it was launched. Despite this, the *%^&$+£'s from Redmond have only reluctantly agreed to repair the most known about and publicised problem with their console. All the other buggered Xbox 360's are simply being ignored, and left to be used as doorstops or generously-sized paper weights.

I wonder if my console would fit up an arse. If I really shoved it?

VFM day

I've got a real thing about not wasting your days off from work. You know how some days just seem to fly by and when you look back, you feel like you've not done really anything at all? And then before you know it, it's bath-time and up the wooden hill to beddy-byes.

These sorts of days are bad VFM - Value For Money. I bloody hate 'em. So, bizarrely, on my days off I get up at the same time (or even earlier) than I do on work days, just so I can make the most of not being at work. Is that mental? Possibly. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't. This is because it's all very well dragging yourself out of your fetid pit at 7am, but if you just waft around the lounge in your pants for three hours, you're not exactly giving yourself an action-packed day.

So today, as I'm not working, I'm up early and have plans: have a light, yet nutritionally balanced breakfast (peanut butter on toast and a pint of coffee); head down to Tesco to buy ingredients for making a big, homemade pizza for tea; go the gym for an hour; phone the council about an erroneous postal voting thing they sent us; write and send a 'congratulations on your engagement card' (which I should have done before today); finish writing my presentation (more on that tomorrow); phone Microsoft and complain even more bitterly than last time about my deceased Xbox 360; go to the toilet; iron the cat and have a shower. Oh, and make, bake and eat the pizza with my wife.

Now I reckon that's a pretty full day. Some of it is fun, some mundane, some tiring, some irritating and some a pain in the pooper. Nevertheless, it will be a really good VFM day and I'm sure I shall feel a real sense of achievement when it's all over.

Or I may just waft around the lounge in my pants for thirteen hours.

Gadget fatigue

I am a big gadget fan. Well, being male I'm pre-disposed towards shiny things that make noises as it is but it goes much further than that. I adore technology but even I start to wilt under the immense pressure imposed on us all by the constant tide of new, 'improved' or 'revolutionary' products.

Don't get me wrong. If I had the cash I could spend hundreds or even thousands of pounds a month on products like plasma telly's, computers, iPods, games consoles, mobile phones and bluetooth underpants. It's just that the companies who make all this stuff have got us over a barrel. They constantly tweak and develop their goodies in such a way that the phone (for eaxample) we bought 2 months ago quickly becomes the 'old' model because the 'new' one has a number of slightly better features which suddenly make your recent purchase seem ever so slightly adequate and even inferior.

Now most people can cope with this sudden obsolescence of their new toy. However, even the least materialistic of us eventually come to realise that their phone (or whatever)is truly out of date, unstylish and lacking in so many ways compared to every other phone out there. Thus the only option is to go out and buy a new one.

Years ago, when you bought a product like a telly or a CD player, you were pretty safe in the knowledge that for the forseeable future, you would be the proud owner of something that was not only up to date but did everything you wanted and needed it to do. Now however, the manufacturers update things so speedily, you hardly have time to enjoy your phone/computer/telly/ etc before realising you own an historic relic.

And there's my dilemma. I hate being dictated to by bloody manufacturers and salespeople but I adore new technology and shiny things that make nosies. So Apple's latest update to their iPod lineup doesn't help. I don't need a touchscreen, widescreen iPod with WiFi ... but I want one. I can't afford the £199 or £269 they're asking either ... but I want one. So what do I do? Well ...

I wait for a few days or weeks until something else shiny, new and that makes noises, gets announced by Apple or Hitachi or Nokia or Fisher Price and start drooling over that instead. And so it goes on. A cycle of drooling, waiting and drooling again until I can afford to buy something. But then what? I daren't buy something because I know that a new, improved, fuller-featured, faster, brigher, more powerful, greener, revolutionary version will be out soon. Aaaargh!

So maybe I, like so many of us, find ourselves trapped in this vicious cycle, created entirely by those who want to sell us things we don't really need. Even my mum who is in her seventies succumbed to this retail treadmill a while ago when she found that her existing phone just wasn't as bright and shiny as the newer ones. She held out for two years, which in technology terms is like the length of the Jurassic era, but the pressure finally told and she conceded defeat. She bought a new one.

So what is the answer to this never-ending story of consumerism? Easy. Go outside, take a deep breath, stretch your arms and legs and go for a walk - in the real world with real people. It costs nothing, is always bang up to date and you get to make all the decisions.

Try it, it's fun.

Oh go on then

Oh I knew it would happen. I just couldn't let YBATYD die could I? Especially as I've been asked by loads (well a few) of my loyal former readers to get back on the net and let rip ... typographically speaking.

So, here I am and You're Born and Then You Die (YBATYD) is back on the block. I intend to carry on in the same vein as previously with one difference - swearing. Now I'm not going to dumb down to the lowest, basest style of writing - like The Sun, but I've decided that a teeny bit more 'adult' language is, where necessary, entirely acceptable.

If you, dear reader peruse through any or all of my old posts, you'll find no sweary-business at all, which is just fine. However, sometimes, just sometimes, the addition of the word 'bollocks' for example can lift a boring sentence to new, humorous heights. Indeed, the word 'bollocks' itself provides several funny alternatives: 'tats', knackers, love-spuds and the Franglais version - 'tats d'amour'

So, in my first posting of the reborn YBATYD I shall use my new-found freedom to tell you that my new iMac (pictured) is the dog's bollocks. I bought it a couple of weeks ago and although my old iMac was bob-on, this one just makes me a little damp with joy. Furthermore, it's even caused stirrings in my loins which may, just may lead to the resurrection of the YBATYD podcast which ran for about 4 glorious episodes before sinking like Derby did today at Liverpool (6-0).

So, things are a changin' and you are welcome to come along for the ride. And if you are new to YBATYD, then "welcome" and feel free to invite your friends, family, colleagues and carers to pop in every few days for a bit of light reading.

And swearing

Where in the world ... ?

... PC World. Well, that's what the ad on the telly says anyway. I popped in to my local PC World this fine, sunny morning, as I needed a new firewire cable. Having checked on the Tinterweb, I knew that, obviously, I could get one cheaper online than I could in the shops. However, convenience and instant-ness (what?) are always worth paying a few extra pennies for.

Unfortunately, the price difference was a tad more than even I was prepared to pay. Online, the cable cost £9 which included delivery. PC World were asking slightly more for the same cable. They wanted £21. Yes, that's £12 extra. Bugger that. I was mildly miffed at this but my mood improved considerably as I was leaving the store. Being Sunday morning, I assumed it would be fairly quiet in the shop, especially as it had only been open for 8 minutes. I was wrong. The service and repairs counter already had a large queue of disgruntled-looking punters, clutching various bits of computer in their impatient little hands. I couldn't help but smirk (oh, and take this photo) as I thought that maybe if they'd perhaps bought a computer from another company (er, can't think which one ...) then maybe they'd be relaxing at home on a Sunday morning, surfing the Net, sending emails or listening to some nice, downloaded music. Hmmm.

Talking of 'where in the world', on Saturday, my wife and I popped down to Herefordshire for a family 'do'. Fine. Nice, easy 2.5 hour drive down to the place and enjoy the day. One slight problem. We entered the UK's Bermuda Triangle. In short, from arriving at what turned out to be 3 miles from our destination, to actually getting there, took longer than the 135 mile trip from our bloody house. At the end of one road there was a signpost to the village we were looking for. We drove down it. When we got to the end of the road, there was another signpost for the village ... pointing back the way we'd just come. This road was about 2 miles long and either side were fields. And a cow. No village.

After several mental breakdowns, failed mobile phone calls (no signal), asking directions from some ramblers and a man who was making a hedge, following some other relatives until their car broke down and my wife having to 'tootie-down' in a field to have an emergency wee, our fuel-starved car finally pulled up at the venue. We felt like Sir Edmund Hilary and sherpa Tenzing reaching the summit of Everest. Mind you, they didn't have pints of lager and a 13 foot table laden with buffet gorgeousness to bring them back from the brink of death.

World-weary explorers love an onion bhaji and a pint of Carling.

Poor posting

I apologise dear readers. I have been decidedly remiss in my postings recently. The main reason is that the super-busy 8 week period at work has just come to an end and so I'm still a little 'all over the place'. I'm truly sorry about that. Really.

So, my postings will now get back to their slightly more regular selves - even if I only have the usual, dull tripe to offer you. At least there'll be something for you to read while you dry you hair, re-wire that plug or remove some old toe jam from your feet.

Well, the big news today is that I'm sending something back. To explain, the hard drive on my luverly iMac is getting a teensy bit full. So a few weeks ago I started researching external hard drives. I told you, you'd be getting the same old tripe didn't I? Anyway, after much investigation, I found the one I wanted - a Western Digital 'My Book Pro' 500gb firewire/USB hard drive (see pic). It was a very reasonable £149 so I purchased the beast.

To cut a long story short, it was cack. It was cack because it didn't work. When I managed to get it to sort of work, it nearly killed my computer. Added to that, when I registered it online, I was informed that my warranty wouldn't be valid! I was not pleased. Honestly, at one point my iMac sounded like it was about to explode. I was so alarmed I nearly had a trouser movement (a bad one - round the back) until I unplugged the 'My Book' which clearly saved my iMac's life. Poor bugger.

Thus, it's about to be winging it's way back to whence it came. I've already got my replacement waiting in the wings (I'll make sure I get the first one refunded before I buy the next one) and just hope things work out better the second time around. I don't want another bad trouser movement experience.

The stitching just can't take the strain.

Well blow me

I just remembered this today. When I used to work at a large theme park I was issued with a fairly powerful radio (walkie-talkie) which I used to have to carry with me at all times. There were over a hundred people who had radios, so they were pretty commonplace. However, there were only a few of us who discovered a wonderful thing you could do with them.

I can't take the credit for this discovery myself, but I have to admit that it provided me with a huge number of giggles. OK, so here's what we used to do:

1. Go into the gents lav.
2. Enter a cubicle.
3. Wait for a victim to enter the gents.
4. Get your radio out.
5. Wait until the victim is in mid-flow (at the urinal)
6. Press the 'speak' button on your radio.
7. Suppress laughter as the radio causes the electric hand dryer to start blowing
8. Press the 'speak' button on your radio.
9. Suppress laughter as the hand dryer stops.
10. Repeat ad-infinitum whilst the victim becomes increasingly confused/scared.

I lost count of how many times I did this. Some bogs had cubicles you could just see out of which meant that you could time your transmissions to cause the most alarm to the victim. I don't know why it worked but I suppose the radio waves must have just triggered the sensor inside the hand dryer. Oh the fun you can have in a toilet ...

Er ...

Happy iPod

I have had a problem with my iPod. I was getting the dreaded 'Error 48' which basically means that you cannot update your iPod from iTunes. Not only that, but all the album artwork gets jumbled up, photos won't display and ... and ...

Well anyway, I rang the friendly Apple technical support chaps and they fixed it for me. If anyone's actually interested, the solution is a temporary workaround until they issue some updated firmware for the iPod. Hooray.

So now my iPod is a happy gadget again and I am a happy chappie again. When my gadgets become poorly I get really hassled. Like I did when my iMac was unwell a while ago and like I did when my Xbox 360 felt unwell a few months back. So as you can see, my personal happiness is directly related to the well-being of just about any electronic, inanimate items that I own. Is that weird?

Oh who cares? I'm going to give my telly a cuddle.

Get it Onn

Ooh I love my gadgets. So imagine my joy when my wife suggested yesterday that it was about time we treated ourselves to a DAB (digital) radio. We'd been considering buying one for ages but decided to be all grown-up and cost-conscious. However, when we discovered that Asda (Wal Mart) were flogging a cracking little DAB radio (the exact one that's in the photo, made by Onn) for just £30, we could contain ourselves no longer.

It's just wonderful, especially when you listen to stations that are broadcast on medium wave instead of FM. I listen to a MW station all the time and the reception is often similar to that experienced by Cape Canaveral during the 1960's Apollo missions. On DAB it sounds like liquid glass slicing through soft butter. Er ...

Now, all 30 stations are crystal clear and my wife and I can now switch between our respective favourites with ease. No honestly, it's really exciting. You even get the name of the currently-playing song displayed on the radio! So now the crappy old transistor radio has been banished to the bathroom where it will eventually rot and die. Die. Die! So farewell medium wave and hello digital radio.

Now that's a turn-Onn

What a different world it would be

When I wake up at 5.14am and can't get back to sleep, my mind doesn't half become active. Possibly because at that time of the morning I am still clinically deceased and therefore not quite 'with it'. Anyway, my brain never ceases to amaze and intrigue me so it was no surprise to me when I had the following thought - 'what a different world it would be if cars had never been invented'. Specifically, if the internal combustion engine had never been invented.

The trick with this one is to imagine a world bereft of all vehicles. No cars, buses, lorries or motorbikes. Instead - horses and carts. However, the rest of the world is just the same. So there are computers, satellite telly, Bush & Blair, Marmite, mobile phones, edible underwear and double-glazing salesmen. So everything is exactly as you see it right now dear reader, except that the roads are full of horses and carts. This takes some thinking about, so here are a few things that popped into my head as I cogitated this morning:

Car tax would become Cart tax. Cart tax would pay for clearance of horse poo
Lorries would become extra large carts pulled by teams of Shire horses
Carts would be made by existing companies like Ford, Toyota, Land Rover and Ferrari
You'd still have to pass a driving test, including a three-point turn with a horse
Petrol stations would instead be Hay depots with different grades and prices of hay
Traffic lights, roundabouts and motorways would still exist
The speed limit in towns would be 6 mph and 12 mph on motorways
Like cars, carts/carriages would have SatNav, CD players, headlights and air con
Drive-Thru MacDonalds'would still exist but would be re-named Trot-Thru's
Youths would still go joyriding, albeit at about 13 mph
Both horses and carts would require a yearly MOT
Kwik-Fit would replace cart wheels along with horseshoes
Some people would still add spoilers and go-faster stripes to their carts

Wouldn't it be amazing to see the world like this? I'm just imagining the large Argos cart pulling up outside my house to deliver the new fridge freezer. Or a couple of boy racers at the traffic lights, just waiting to race each other with their respective second-hand carts. Just think what the M25 would look like at 'rush' hour or your local NCP car park. Fabulous!

I could go on, but I've got to feed Dobbin before I go to Tesco's.

Ping pong addiction

A friend of mine recommended this "great' game for my Xbox 360. I scoffed at his suggestion but I bought it because it was on offer at HMV. Well, what's £20 amongst friends? Mind you, I was extremely dubious about the whole thing ... until I played the little devil. What a laugh. What addictive jollity. What the hell am I doing?

I'm playing computer table tennis. Yes, I know. I thought it would be berserk/sad/infantile/pointless etc, but it's actually a truly wonderful and seriously addictive little game. So much so, I've managed to get repetitive strain injury in one thumb and three fingers in just over an hour. If I were in prison, that would be considered a form of torture. However, it's worth it for the pure enjoyment of charging round the virtual table as you attempt to master a multitude of spin shots, lobs, smashes and 'focus shots' (whatever the hell they are)whilst the music increases and the crowd whoop and clap a bit.

Trust me - it's cracking fun if you like that sort of thing. Even if you don't, you may just find yourself longing for a bit of bat and ball stimulation. My current favourite character is a little Chinese fella. He has quite an alarming face but his ball control is sublime and he has some very pleasing T-shirts, which is nice.


I think I should lie down for a while.

Le Nano est ne tres bon

I am crap at French. However, I'm not bad at computers - despite what my computer-guru / genius chum may say. Anyway, as a big fan of Apple stuff (including my iMac) I'm feeling a tad miserable this Saturday evening. The reason for this mild depression is that my father-in-law's shiny new iPod Nano (see earlier post) turned out to be a Non-o as I spent most of the day at their house, trying to get his prized new possession to work properly.

However, despite all my spirited, technical attempts and those of the techie chaps at Apple, the Nano just wouldn't play nicely with the PC. It all started off fine and we were flying with the new iTunes installed (and updated Quicktime) and soon we had all his music sync'd with his Nano. Then we updated the Nano's firmware and it all went cack.

About 100 minutes of Apple assistance just couldn't solve the problem and in the end we all admitted defeat and arranged for a new one to be sent. Sacre bleu. My father-in-law was dejected but kept a stiff upper lip and a cheery disposition. I, however felt about as jolly as lap dancer in a monastery. As I write, my own iPod is happily belting out thumping drum 'n' bass (or is it Gloria Estefan?) into my lugholes. In fact the little bleeder seems to be rubbing salt into my wounds by just, well, working. Never mind though. I'm sure that by next week, my father-in-law will be bopping round the lounge/garden/Turkish bath listening to something from the 50's on his new, new Nano.

Or digging out his cassettes/78's/wax cylinder. We shall see...

Pie in the Sky

Sky's excellent satellite television broadcasting; wonderful customer service and cutting-edge technology all make for a first-class reputation. That's why we've had Sky for years and it's been a really positive, value for money experience. So when Sky announced, in the summer, that they were going to introduce a broadband internet service - I was at the front of the queue.

Alas, now I have left the queue and don't plan to return anytime soon. I registered my interest back in July and by August I'd received an invitation from Sky to get my broadband from them. I called them on 24th August and did the necessary which included giving Sky my migration (MAC)code from my existing supplier - BT. A week later I had a letter from Sky saying there was a problem and to give them a call.

I called Sky on 4th September and was told that my MAC code had been rejected. I offered to provide it again but was told I didn't need to - it would be submitted and everything would be fine. I was told that there were problems getting the routers (like modems) out to people. Again, this would be fine as it would be chased and I would receive it soon. Great.

By the 1st October, I was becoming just a teensy bit cheesed-off as I'd neither received or heard anything in the past 4 weeks. I rang Sky. It transpired that after my call on 4th September, nothing had happened to my order. Nowt. Zero. Nil. Zilch. Bugger all. It also transpired that the reason my MAC code had been rejected was because it had been entered in lower case instead of upper case. This should have been known by the staff apparently. The router was never chased.

Surprisingly I decided to cancel my order - well, my non-order. I also asked if the forty quid I'd forked out for the privilege of getting Sky broadband, could be given back to me. The chap on the phone admitted that they were having problems with people's orders and that mine had been "a catalogue of disasters". Encouraging.

So I'm still with BT, who, I must point out, have always provided a great broadband service for me. The only reason I wanted to change was due to cost. £15 a month from BT versus £0 from Sky. So Sky were offering broadband for free. However, as they say: "You get what you pay for" and I sure did.

Sky's broadband cost nothing and I got nothing.

Man-o with Nano

Great news. My father-in-law is 60. No, that's not the great news. The great news is that he's just taken delivery of a shiny new iPod Nano. It's his first foray into the world of portable digital music and I think he's just a tad excited.


I'm a big fan of 'silver surfers'. You know, the older generation who are taking on the challenge of using today's technology. However, it's surprising how many of the younger generation are not au fait with wi-fi, contention ratios, cache-emptying and even Sky Plus. So anyone of more mature years who really gives technology a go is alright by me.

A good example is my mum. She is, let's say, a fair way beyond 70 but she is a demon texter and loves pressing the old red button to get BBCi on her Freeview. This may all seem easy, obvious and commonplace but if you were over 60 when mobile phones first came out, just imagine how alien a concept they would seem when you had been used to two cans and a piece of string for communication.

So now my father-in-law has a Nano. I've already introduced him to iTunes and digital photography so now I want him to visit the land of playlists, album art and podcasts. I get the feeling he's like a kid in a candy store at the moment, which is great. I thought he would take ages deciding exactly what MP3 player to buy because he does like to take his time when it comes to electronic purchases. I think it took him about 18 months to decide what sort of new PC to buy. Bless him. At least he's redeemed himself now with his speedy Nano purchase.

I just hope he can switch the bloody thing on.

Ear ear

You know those ridiculous-looking bluetooth headsets? Well, if you do use one because you really need to, I apologise but honestly - they are just hilarious and are worn exclusively by blokes trying to look like someone from Star Trek who's expecting an intergalactic message from the chief Klingon at any second. Sorry, but they just make me laugh.

So imagine my joy today when I saw my first ever woman who was wearing one and not only that, she was about 50 as well. Now that amused me enough, but wait - this is the best bit. She had colour-co-ordinated her earpiece with her outfit! Her Klingon headset was blue and black, as were her earrings and she was wearing a black suit with a blue scarf. She still looked berserk with a lump of plastic nailed to the side of her head, but she was doing it with style.

Don't think she'd have looked as good in just her support tights though.