Facial Viral Infection

Hey chums.

So, I've been on good old FaceSpace for a little while now and I've met some interesting people, that's for sure! I've tried out a handful of applications. 

One that has caught my eye is Human Pets a very interesting application, that is more like a sub community. Some have admitted to me that they ONLY use facespace to get to "HP" as it's affectionately known by the community. Buying and selling your friends and complete strangers is the order of the day, social interaction and flirting with all and sundry. And I have even heard tales of owners and pets meeting for real! One couple are now actually in a proper, real-time, physical relationship! (They WILL remain nameless, so please don't ask)

One thing I have noticed in my short time in the community is the amount of viral sh!te knocking around the place! FunWall, for instance, suffers terribly! The kind of tripe you see on there!:

• "Forward this message and Marky Suckaburger will pay you $1 for every friend you send it to!" Oh please! Does anyone actually think the king of FaceSpace is going to do that? Let's try the math on this... There are, roughly, 69 million users world wide, if you discount for the inactive account, (probably 10%) that's 62 million people. if every one of them has ONLY 20 friends (bare in mind my pal who let me look at his account has 236 friends) and DOES actually forward the message on and it goes NO further, as in no-one else forwards it after they have received it, that's 62 million multiplied by 20. That is a grand total of 1240 million! now imagine each of those 20 friends sent it on again to another 20.... you see!? And when would it stop? Joe Bloggs who you sent it to, sent it to his 20 friends. wouldn't you be one of his friends? Hmmmm..... Think about it!!! How soon would Mr Suckyourburger be bankrupt???
• "If you don't forward this message..." followed by some stupid event that will befoul your life. For example, "...your loved one will leave you!" or "...You will have 5 years bad sex!" What the f**K??? 5 years?? Would you not stop after 2? another favorite, "...you will have nothing but bad luck for the rest of your life and die lonely of a painful debilitating disease!" Again, HOW DUMB are these people that forward this rubbish! What are they thinking? "Oh my god! i better forward this RIGHT AWAY to everyone I know! I don't want (insert scary future event here) or any of my friends to have it either!" I'm going to say no more about this one as it makes me mad!
• "Forward this prayer and little Timmy's terminal cancer will be cured!" I need say not a word about these ones!!

And then you have groups. Bunches of people with the same interests or who work in the same place. Now these I have no problem with. Other than the stupid ones... 

• "If a million people join this group I'll name my unborn child Superman!" What? Really? Did a million people join? I'll bet they did! And did he name his child Superman? I'll bet he bloody well didn't!
• "If a million people join this group starving children in Africa will be fed for a year"Again, HOW? Who's going to feed them? Is a bag of rice suddenly going to magic into existence if I join the group? And what happens if the group gets to a million and then a few people leave taking the number below a million? Is the food taken from the grasp of a starving child?

Ok so it looks like I'm a bit down on Facespace. Trust me, learned reader, when I tell you I LOVE FaceSpace! It's Web 2.0 at it's best! And long may it reign! It's just 50% of the users that are thick as mince, that are my problem! 

See you in the space! Add me! I can send you links to my group! "If a million people join this group I won't start a group asking a million people to join"

Ciao for now!

The Mysterious Wind of Change

Good day chums! I trust you all had a fun filled weekend? Jolly good!

So for our first entry this week, I wish to impart a short story of an incident that took place whilst yours truly was out "On The Lash" Saturday night.

T'was in my local boozer we were, myself and a bunch of chums, listening to another of our friends and his duo-mate play the MOST amazing acoustic guitar set. (More of this another time)

The pub was rather full of people and it was standing room only for the late comers! During a conversation with a friend to my left, I noticed a gentleman of the older generation standing behind us, his back to us. On opening my mouth to say something I heard a noise, what can only be described as, a rapid escape of gas from a bodily cavity!! The look on mine and my friends face must have been a picture. HOWEVER! The look on our faces not 5 seconds later was something to be seen! It would appear, if you have not guessed, that said "Older Gent" had "Let-Rip-A-Good-Un!" The smell of which was not to dissimilar to  those nasty nasty stink bombs available from any good joke shoppe. 

After the initial disgust we could see the trail of  devastation this, almost living,  odour was leaving as slowly, moving towards the back of the room, peoples noses were wrinkling and utterances of revulsion were heard over the music. One poor fellow, on returning from the toilet, was made to fall back into the privvy as the smell collided with his nasal passages. (I do hope he was ok, because I didn't see him again that evening)

Whilst all this was happening, the old farter had vanished. "Left the pub in shame?" I hear you ask?

Oh no dear friend! He had merely taken himself into the other room to hide while the noxious fumes dissipated! However this was not the end of the odour related shenanigans that evening. As 20 minutes later, from the other room, we heard the familiar sound of people retching and coughing as another air-biscuit was floated!!! Lo and Behold the old fella appeared in our room again!

It is my idea, humble as it may be, that this a very new and Uber subtle form of terrorism! The aim, to gas us all, slowly over a period of months. Because, I can tell you, my esteemed reader, any more that 3 lung-fulls of that odour and you are a gonner, good night Gracie, time to pay the ferry-man!

On next entering our local pub I will be armed with 2 cans of glade and the old gas-mask my granddad used during the war!

Below is a picture of said Nose-Bomber. It has been censored to protect the guilty. However, if you see someone similar to this in your local please, leave immediately for your own saftey!

I did it!

So I did it! i gave into peer pressure!

Come and add me dear reader!

Lost love

Found sitting on the wall outside my house this morning...

Quite a sad thing to see to be honest... Did someone drop it? Or throw it away?

If the poor pink 'potimous is still there when I get home this evening I shall be calling RSPCST (Royal Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Stuffed Toys) and trying to find a warm bed for the night for the poor chap

Tunnel Vision pt2...

So you are herded along the road towards Tower tube station. (whether you like it or not!) and down the short flight of stairs to the platform. This is the first danger of riding the tube during rush hour! Many an unwary traveller has fallen at this hurdle. If you look close enough, at the very bottom of the stairs you might see tiny little dents in the floor. These are not caused by the metal heel of power-dressing power-hungry 30-something business women's 4 inch stilettos, oh no! They are caused by the teeth of various victims of the crush as they fall, face first from the stairs. Often times, it is believed, that ambulance crews wait, in taxi like ranks, just around the corner from the station, Paramedics inside laying wagers on how many victims the crush will claim today!

Once the stairs of doom are negotiated the next goal is surviving the wait on the platform. Much the same as the wait for the over ground train. Form an orderly crowd and surge forward at the mere sniff of a train approaching. This surge is wrought with danger of course! If you are unlucky enough to be at the front, you stand a heavy chance of being tube fodder by falling from the platform. It is my firm believe that there should, at 6ft intervals on the track, be bunker like troughs, deep enough for two people to hide, side by side, should they become victims of the surge!

Now, at Tower in the mornings 99% of commuter traffic is going FROM the station so there is very little fuss when boarding. Apart from the Tetris like skills needed to cram 2000 people into a space designed for only 800. To leave the train at your desired station takes a serious amount of forward thinking.

If you were lucky enough to get a seat, you need to be trying to stand up about 30 seconds later and there is very good reason for this.

1. As soon as you stand someone will shift a little to the left at the other end of the carriage, causing a ripple effect that will eventually result in you plopping back down in your seat, only to find the brolly carrying chap who was stood right next to you has already taken your seat and you fall, unceremoniously onto his knee while trying to avoid having the handle of his brolly shoved somewhere it definitely should not go!

2. The sheer volume of people make it damned near impossible to actually make any kind of headway towards the door.

My stop was Westminster, notorious for what I am about to impart upon you dear reader.

Upon reaching your stop, you would now be face with a major problem. EVERYONE seems to want to get off there about half the amount of people again are waiting to get on! This becomes an all out war between the alighters and the boarders, reminiscent of the battle scene in Braveheart.

The borders surge towards the doors as the alighters are pouring forth from the self-same doors. There is no idea of women and children first.. Here it is survival of the fittest (most vicious), Briefcases are used as shields against oncoming umbrella tips, scarves as makeshift whips. The hardened commuter settling on the "Rolled-up-newspaper" as weapon of choice! A correctly used newspaper can incapacitate an attacker for a good 30 seconds. The battle last a mere 2 minutes max, the time the doors stay open. And the commuters, both the borders and alighters go on their merry way, leaving behind a trail of destruction and broken bodies. The unwitting pensioner on a day out, left, curled and bruised against the far door, the contents of her handbag, strewn across the floor. Discarded briefcases dropped in the melee. Broken and bent umbrellas. The slow coach, unable to alight, pressing their forlorn face against the glass of the door as the train slowly leaves the platform, mouthing a dramatic "Noooooooo!" as they know they now face an agonising choice. 

Go thru the same again at the next station and walk back or go thru the same again three times! Once as an alighter and again as a border at the next station and yet again as an alighter at the correct station. Or and this is the defeatists choice... Ride the circle line until you come back around, an hour late for work, busting to use the toilet and possibly harassed by the mad-man-of-the-tube who seems to be able to sniff out lost causes!

 

And after all this, we spend 8-9 hours crammed into stuffy offices or places of work only to repeat the process in reverse to get to the relative safety of home!...

 

Tunnel Vision

I thought I would write about an incident or 2 from my past today.

The idea of this was bought about when I was chatting to my lady, Miss Noh Kia, whist on the train to work this morning. Sitting at Brighton station, waiting for my train to pull away I was watching the rest of the rat-race filling the platform waiting for another train.

It put me in mind of my younger days, living in Essex*, when I would have to commute on the Southend to London (Misery) line. My station was about 9 along the line from Southend and considering it went thru the commuter towns of Benfleet, Pitsea (Apt name) and Stanford-le-Hope, it was pretty full by the time it got to me! Now as if this wasn't bad enough the actual station would be full (I mean sardine can full) of commuters, so much so that you couldn't even get onto the platform! You had to get there at least 45 minutes before the train you wanted to catch was due.

So the next train comes thru, already pretty much full, and half of the people filter off platform and onto train. Always, without fail, there would be the numpty that thinks he can push his way thru from behind everyone else, only to be met with a few severe wound to the shins and thighs! Those briefcases can be fooking dangerous!

Eventually you're in the front 3 or 4 rows that will make it onto the next train! Bare in mind this is the days of the old slam-door trains. So someone would always have the door open before the train had come to a halt, so you can't get TO close for risk of getting decapitated by said door! The train stops and you cram yourself in! Now that you're on the train your luck can go one of two ways...

1. You find a seat!!!! MIRACLE! So, in a cloud of smugness you plat your butt thinking, "I am not giving up this seat even for a pregnant 60 year old with varicose veins the size of sewer pipes!" However your smugness is very short lived, as no sooner have you sat down you realise that you have sat next to "Colin the office idiot" We all know the type, JUST like Colin from the fast show (Google it if you don't) And Colin has a slight personal hygiene problem, as in he has NO IDEA what soap is for!! And! As if that isn't bad enough, RIGHT in front of you, in fact so close you could touch with your nose, is a wide expanse of floral eye rapery! wrapped around the largest, lumpiest ass you have EVER seen!

or...

2. There's no seat and you end up standing, pressed, crotch to butt with some be-suited business man, who seems to be pushing back?!?

The journey doesn’t get any better either. There's another 8 or so stations between there and Fenchurch so MORE people trying to squeeze in.

Eventually that over-stuffed, hot, sweaty train would rattle into Fenchurch "Your last station stop" and spew commuters onto the tiny platforms there. What a site it must have been to the casual observer, 1000's of people shuffling silently down into a tiny stair well, filtering thru four or five ticket barriers. The bottle neck here was ALWAYS made worse by someone having trouble getting thier ticket to register on the auto barrier. Invariably people would be crushing up behind, silently cursing the OBVIOUS blithering idiot up front.

Once out of the station you had to negotiate your way to Tower tube station... see pt 2

 

*feel free to add bad Essex jokes that we've all heard a dozen times and they weren't even funny the first time!

Germs

Catch them in your handkerchieveses, as my old gran (god rest her) used to say!