This time in a week, I will finally be live on broadband (well, fingers crossed). A nice chap from BT called me this morning to confirm the ADSL installation, and that I can expect speeds of 5.5mbps. I found their customer service a total contrast to that of TalkTalk. In the world of BT, the customer is respected. In the world of TalkTalk, the customer is a twat.
With the go live date growing ever near, it’s time to dust off the 360 and get my Xbox Live membership renewed. I have challenged a work colleague/friend/nemesis to a few games of Dead or Alive 4. I have made it my mission to win and take the bragging rights back to the office. Defeat would mean failure and thus cause me to cry, hide in a home made tent and eat Dairylea.
There was a virus outbreak at work today. Luckily it was the variety which only attacks computers, so the spraying of vomit and human excrement within the office was kept to a minimum.
Still, it was a tad scary (and amusing) to see how the virus spread from one machine to another. I am yet to find the source of it. My detective finger points to a naughty person looking at things they shouldn’t on the internet, or a careless fool with an infected memory stick.
When the culprit is found out, they will no doubt be beaten and flogged with a wet sock until they promise to never hurt a computer, microchip or IT peripheral ever again – this all being standard business procedure, just ask Bill Gates.
Hallelujah! I have been released by the tyrant which is TalkTalk. My telephone line is once again owned by British Telecom and will soon be on broadband – finally!
Yesterday afternoon I made my way to a very sodden Twerton Park to cheer on Simon. His work, Sainsbury’s, had hired the pitch for some kind of team building match. As well as lending my support, I also went along to have a kick around pre-match and live the dream by scoring a goal at The Theatre of Dreams – which I did like a pro.
Due to the poor state of the pitch, I ended up taking a few tumbles and getting rather muddy – still, it looked like I have worked hard :o)
There was a cost to pay for my time on the pitch however. The linesman failed to turn up, and the match referee approached me to be his assistant – running up and down the pitch, looking for when a player strayed offside, kicked the ball out of play, or committed a foul.
I was a little scared at first, and thought that 90 minutes of running would cause me to fulfil another “Twerton Park Feat” – vomiting on the pitch. Luckily my fitness wasn’t as poor as I thought, and I managed to survive the game without even breaking a sweat – or getting punched by a player for flagging them offside.
I cannot remember the final score, but it was something ridiculous like 4-4. Simon’s team lost on penalties. Normally I would wish Mr. Goater my commiserations, but as a match official I must stay impartial.
On the way out of Twerton Park I managed to grab a few tufts of turf which had been kicked from the pitch. I’ve planted them in a plant pot in my flat. Sam, a work colleague, said this was very sad and the only time that tuft should be kept is if it’s from Wembley Stadium. I replied saying that I would prefer the turf of Twerton to that of Wembley.
On reflection of my experience, I must say from a physical point of view, it is a lot easier than I imagined – which is probably why you see so many fat referees. From a mental point of view, being a linesman is rather difficult. Not only do you need to watch the ball, but incidents away from the action, looking out for fouls, offsides, etc – all at the same time! One of the most difficult things I found was remembering what team to award a throw to when the ball went out of play.
When I return to Twerton Park next season as a supporter, I will try to be more patient with the linesman and not give him an onslaught of abuse… I am sure that’ll last all of 15 minutes.
A few lines from Friday’s episode of Peep Show which have kept me smiling all weekend.
“I love kids… not in a bad way, in a nice way… I mean I’m not on the Child Protection Register… yet! Which proves I’m not a paedo… either that or I’m an incredibly hard to detect paedo.”
“Jeremy’s literally thrown me to the bloody lions! What’s next, crucifixion? Is he going to have me actually nailed onto a cross?”
“I’m his handyman. He did expect me to… give him a hand.”
About Me
So you stumbled across my blog. No doubt after searching for something bizarre on Google. Before you hit that 'Back Button', why not stay and have a read for a few minutes?
If you are after a website which gives advice on how to hack an iPhone X, download the latest Steven Seagal movie, or view nudy ladies, you've come to the wrong place and may now press 'Back'.
However, if you would like a lifestyle blog, written by a 30-something chap, living in Bath (England), feast your eyes on this.
You won't discover how to copy PlayStation 4 games. What you will find is a blog, covering life in the West Country, the highs and lows of supporting two unsuccessful football teams, while sharing a house with a wife and rabbit.
All written by a man, somewhere on the sanity-scale between normal and eccentric.
