My Blog Posts

Today the Guardian has published a list of the 40 greatest British bands today. Which is quite nice, but does miss a few tricks. Where are (rather predictably), Prefab Sprout, Marillion, Francis Dunnery and Chris Difford? I’d also suggest that the top 40 should contain Turin Brakes, purveyors of top quality tunes and residents of Balham.

One of my colleagues turned up in the office today sporting a new iPod. Whilst its the industry leader and commands a premium price, it makes my Archos jukebox look very “last century” If I can spare a couple of quid from the nappy budget I’d love to upgrade. Something tells me it will have to wait until the next generation (of iPods) though.

To the World Cup. I’m very excited, but not in a Bruce McAvaney kind of way - because he’s a twunt. Here at What’s Doing we are loosening up the vocal cords for that all important singing of “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”. Lets just say that we are quietly confident. Mainly that the mighty England will turn up. Anything else, including winning matches, is too hard to predict.

Did I mention that its my birthday in a couple of weeks? I did? Well, I want this book as well. OK. This post isn’t about my record collection, but I’ve stayed up late to watch the F1 qualifying on ITV so give me a break. Marillion love is coming, honest.

I’ve give up using the messengers from Yahoo and Microsoft. Mainly because I can’t use my favourite program anymore. I’m not going to run the company’s tools because I’m fed up with blanket pop-ups and annoying adverts. If you want to talk to me online, and who wouldn’t, I’m going open source and using Jabber. All you need to do is download Exodus, register with a jabber server (I’d suggest http://www.jabber.org) and add me (andy47@jabber.org) to your list of contacts. For the technically challenged there is a nice walkthrough (with pictures no less) here.

Its my birthday in a couple of weeks. Can I have one of these please? Thanks awfully.

Ladies, Gentlemen and fellow geeks. Mr Scaryduck has put up part 1 of the “worst wailer in the world” survey. You know your duty, go here and show the world how much you dislike that Vegas dwelling alleged chanteuse. As ever with Scary’s web polls multiple votes are perfectly acceptable, in fact they are positively encouraged. If you like you can vote for old concorde nose as many times as you like, I’m going for an average of fifty or so a day.

We will file this one in the “Interesting Things You Didn’t Know You Needed to Know” pile. SWMBO took Number 1 son to the doctors yesterday for a check up and his first ever vaccinations. Amongst them was a jab to protect against polio. Whilst she was there the doctor gave SWMBO a booster, because apparently if you haven’t had one in the last ten years or so the vaccine can overcome your feeble defences and infect you polio. Which is nice.

The worst musical act in the world fun continues apace at Scaryduck but I’ll stop talking about it here and just carry on leaving comments on his blog. Talking of which you, my dear readers, are slacking. Apart from the 70’s throwback (and Simon and Steve, steady on chaps) there is usually only a fine patina of dust hanging around the comments on this here blog. I don’t ask for much in return for the hours of sweat I expend coming up with these witty vignettes but the odd comment from some of you would be nice.

Some friends are celebrating their wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks time. The schedule for the day goes something like this - trip to London, tube to Tower Bridge, stand on the embankment and look at the King of Poker-Faced Hokum, take the train home where the blushing bride will put on her wedding dress (that hubby has fetched down from the loft), turn the music (70’s disco) up loud and dance away the night at the anniversary disco.

Not content with unleashing a “worst movie in the world” poll on us, Scaryduck has now initiated a worst musical act in the world poll. I’m sure you will be reassured to know that I was straight in with my nomination for the wailing french bint. It would appear that I’m not alone in my appreciation of her (lack of) talent. Other front runners appear to be, well, Cliff Richard mainly. Although if you look in the comments on that post there are some absolute corkers.

To celebrate the end of the week, and because I’ve completely run out of things to say, I’d like you to join me in enjoying International Talk Like A Pirate Day. Of course, you can ironically support the cause by just acknowledging the day and not talking like a pirate but, perhaps, writing like one - me hearty. When the excitement subsides you can spend a couple of minutes enjoying the pointlessness that is AmIAnnoying.com. It is a bit seppo-centric but still an enjoyable diversion when one is supposed to be paying attention during working hours.

Lest you think I’m not doing anything, I’m actually knee deep in a program to reverse engineer an Oracle schema. Meanwhile, and not totally coincidentally, I’m beginning to resemble Bob from Teachers. The most common phrase I’m mumbling as a wander around the office at the moment is “and the horse you rode in on.” But that’s just me.

I had a hard “away day” today, Sitting in a hotel meeting room being filled in on the good old corporate vision. Afterwards we retired to a local hostelry for stick and ball related games and sponsored drinking. For the first time ever I was the first one to leave the pub. My motivations were complex but did involve getting home at a reasonable hour to say hello to the family. Sadly I was through the door at 9pm, by which time industrial snoozing was the order of the day. Its now an hour and a half later and there is no sign of SWMBO or the son and heir.

How can a travesty such as this exist? What is needed to make the world a better place is not to withdraw the troops from Iraq, or force Jeff Hoon to resign - although they would help. No, what we need to do is boycott Sony Music for inflicting this hideous rubbish on the world. The merchandise isn’t much cop either. She is a wailing French bint who is frankly a bit rubbish and she should be stopped.

I was subject to, I think, a little karmic payback this morning. I really didn’t want to go to visit our client today, but I got up at 6 anyway. As I was drinking my coffee and listening to the Candyman before the start of my mammoth journey the travel news came on. The headline item was a major accident on the M3 blocking the road. It had been closed at Junction 6. My journey takes me down the M3 and then off at Junction 7.

I was going to let you know about the joys of my weekend. The highs and lows, the triumphs and setback, but then Simon put up a link to meatandcheese.co.uk: any thoughts of that ilk got replaced by me rolling around laughing. These t-shirts are great and I want one now! A particular favourite around the office was the tourettes one, although I don’t think I’d be allowed to wear it at home. I’ve suggested to the team that we adopt the Computer Club one as official attire, I’ll let you know if the union passes the resolution or not.

This weekend will mainly be taken up with watching the cricket and the rugby, learning everything there is to know about JDBC and avoid the copious streams of vomit issuing from my son. And who said life was dull?

Look, down to the left, there be pictures. Inspired by those typepad blogs I’ve enhanced my currently reading and listening section to show the covers of the appropriate items. Which is nice. Elsewhere, and for no particular reason, I’ve made my cv available on this page. No reason you understand. None whatsoever.

of original content, let me bring you two pearls of the english language. From Mil Millington; “I then made the kind of face you’d see on someone who was standing in a wind tunnel having the hairs pulled from their legs.” Then, for the 70’s throwback, from messrs Fagen and Becker; “Why is he standing in your spangled leather poncho, and your elevator shoes?” Priceless. On the music front, the 70’s throwback and I had the pleasure of attending a performance by Francis Dunnery last night at the Robin 2 in Bilston. It was a two hundred mile round trip, but worth it. The gig was, to use the vernacular, bosting. So much so that I’m still humming along to Still Too Young To Remember.