Fucking three

I love the idea of an iPad. It can do almost everything. It's even better when it connects to the Internet.

I'm currently on the main road in Chesterfield - no signal.

I've recently stayed in Ascot - no signal.

I train in Nuffield in Reading, on a major office development - no signal.

I'm currently living near Newbury, Berkshire - no signal.

It goes without saying that you can't get signal inside Old Trafford.

I was having breakfast in a Manchester city centre hotel this weekend and couldn't get a signal.

I spend some time in offices in Nottingham city centre - no signal.

I lived in Cheshunt for a while and the only way to get a functioning signal was to sit on the window cill of one particular bedroom.

Gaps here and there are acceptable

It is the worst contract I've ever entered into and I procure contracts for a living

Searching for a signal is like divining for water. People might see me wandering around and I wonder what they think - the enlightened informed observers probably know instantly I'm with Three; others think I'm deranged.

To escalate this issue, I've been told I have to go through a legal process. I've been fobbed off and forced to speak to Todd from Apple in the US.

I have a company contract with O2 and it's not perfect, but it's a world apart from Three. Hot-spotting through that is the only thing that makes this fucking contraption functional.

I think it's too late for me, this thing is about ready to go through a window or have my fist stuck through it - but my recommendation: don't get anything with Three. Whatever you think you're saving, it's a false economy. I suffer from a congenital heart defect and I feel the stress this causes physically.

From here on in, I plan to record every postcode that I can't get a signal in. It should be a rollercoaster ride.

Tweets aren't loading now.

No Service.

Searching...

Syntax error.

Read error b.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

More than a woman.

I sometimes wonder about what kind of woman I'd be. I wonder what my values would be. I think I'd be against Page Three, and a sense of career would be important to me, but I would perhaps like a comfortable life and might not be averse to using my sexuality to find a good partner. I'd work, but I'd also enjoy looking after the kids and that. I definitely think I'd go knickerless quite often, not just as a treat, I think I'd find it a bit of a thrill.

Above all else though, I think I'd be a woman that often wore socks. Some of the shoes are ridiculous. Constantly cold toes and walking a tightrope would not be my things. The only way around this seems to be wellingtons or boots of some sort. I don't know whether this attitude implies lesbianism, but that's a big assumption and one I'm not trying to make, so for the sake of this piece, let's assume that I'd be a woman who likes a bit of a cock.

I've tried to think of a woman with a public profile who I might be like. I'm not sure about Sporty Spice, but I could be a cross between her and Ginger Spice, without the need to travel the world as much as they did in their heyday.

If pressed, I think I'd be Felicity Kendall or Charlie Dimmock. Either way, I think I'd be properly narked if a convicted rapist was allowed to play professional football in front of me and I was forced to pay to see him score/ defend or score/ defend for or against my team, nor would I like the idea that my family or those around me accepted it. I think I'd probably stop watching football.

Je voudrais eine Pferd

Work recently asked me if I could relearn German within six weeks, I laughed. My language skills are okay; I can communicate in French, my Spanish could be developed and there is a basic level of German to build from; I also know the Turkish for sponge-cake, left, right, straight on, chicken, cheers, coffee, cheesecake and tea. 

It was never going to happen, even though I like to make the effort to fit it; when I want to make an effort in a non-English speaking country, I usually speak French, even if it's not a French-speaking region. Although neither I nor the other party understand each other better, I just think it's good that I'm willing to make an effort. I also feel that phonetically the French language is closer to more countries, whilst their use of facial expressions and shoulder shrugs is probably more universally acceptable than just being "shouty, shouty" in English.

Curiously, shoulder shrugs and hand gestures were also how I once mimicked a Jew, when I found myself amongst a group of particularly sanctimonious Christian strangers. I was a Pennsylvania Lieberman.

Oeuf a cheval

My pitch for the first worldwide French fast-food restaurant chain:

"Horses 4 Courses"

It would serve four courses, each of which would feature the ingredient of horse.

Not so fast with the food.

There's a national fast-food chain that I frequent pretty regularly, the food's okay and I have a loyalty card thing; the combination of starchy carbohydrates and incrementel discounting is pretty seductive to anyone... The one off-putting thing, though, is how the staff appear from the back, like some sort of blood smelling zombies, or at the least victims of an extensive behavioural modification process, and almost immediately ask for your order.

I went through a phase of trying to make it clearer that I was still deciding, by utilising a "contemplative face". I could do nothing more, even if I took the stance of Rodin's Thinker or stood there stroking a chin beard like a Dutch pothead. The last time I went in, I basically turned my back and ignored them whilst reading an alternative menu. Even this didn't work. I felt like I need to know why they do this, so I asked them last time.

Me: "Look mate, don't take this personal, but why when you can see I'm still thinking would you still ask me what I'd like to order. Would it not make sense to wait? Then I'll approach you and say, "Yeh, can I have a...... (whatever)""

Them: "It is my job, I'm an Assistant; I am here to assist"

Me: "Well, I think somebody should really be telling the company that it's quite off putting. If it was me in your position, I'd be thinking that maybe I could put it to head office and make a name for myself.."

Them: "You could just say you'll be a few minutes, when you come in?"

Me: "Fair point, I could, but the thing is, you can see that I'm still thinking; do you get a lot of people who just come in to browse?"

Them: "No, sir. Can I take your order, please."

I'd probably be blocked on Twitter...

Pointless

I spend far too much time in Waterstones. Earlier today, I came across the most pointless book I think I might have ever seen, simply called: "Does God believe in Atheists?" by John Blanchard. John, as I've come to know him, was co-founder of the Christian Ministries.

The book claims to "expose the errors in Darwinian evolutionism, it highlights the flaws in nine other religions and fourteen cults."  it also "examines the critical issue of how an all-powerful God can allow evil and suffering in the world."

I don't know, maybe it's me, but I couldn't help feeling like this hefty tome would be much like the propaganda that a cult would issue; that notwithstanding.

Maybe, I'm being harsh; I mean, there were three reviews on the back of the book, so it must have some resonance beyond just the writer. The first read "A brilliant defence of belief in God" and that was from Reverend Andrew Anderson, which seems convenient, but maybe he's just a really balanced character, I mean, he is a Reverend.

The second was provided by Reverend Wade Burleson, who commented: "This book is destined to be a classic on the subject". Yeah, there's a trend, right?

And the final comment really kind of sealed it; Reverend Nick Needham, who said: "No self-respecting atheist should be without it." ... cos that comment, is really just a load of bollocks.

I'm no atheist, I think I'm mostly agnostic; I like the sense of spiritualism when it surfaces and sometimes I feel like more than what I really am: skin, bones, electrical impulses, a bit of DNA and more grey hairs than I'd like; something a bit cosmic - but I'm pretty sure that if I was an atheist, I really wouldn't care whether God believed in me; I think that is kind of their whole point, ya know...

Pointless.

Pigs in Shit

It's Africa, 145AD and it's warm. Not just warm, it's hot; like a biblical heat. And these two hippotamus' are lounging around in a pool of mud; doing anything to escape the heat and find something more temperate. If you were there, you'd have seen their eyes, their ears and the top of their heads, only up to the snout. Other than that they're completely submerged.

Four hours pass and these two slovenly hippos still haven't moved, they're still lounging around in exactly the same place; like pigs in shit. This could go on all day, so far as they're concerned. Regardless though, soon after, this slightly above-average size dragonfly navigates its way through the trees surrounding the lagoon; and it lands on the head of one of the hippos.

An hour passes, before the dragonfly decides to leave.

Another hour passes and the sun starts to set, then, with a little indifference, one of the hippos pulls his head out of the mud; cocking his head to look at his mate, he turns and says, "I don't know why, but it feels more like a Wednesday, to me."