Posts from March 2010

One attraction of my glamorous life as an IT consultant travelling all over Europe is the opportunity to conduct illicit affairs with beautiful lap dancers from Prague (who are definitely not transvestites). For the last three years, I have been secretly engaged in such a liaison with a beautiful young lady called Iris.

Unfortunately, due to Iris' work commitments, our meetings are limited to brief, breathless, stolen trysts in the arrivals and departure halls at the various terminals at London Heathrow.

Originally, like most shy, reserved young ladies being stalked by an aging, overweight business man, Iris played slightly hard to get and actually stood me up on our first date but I wasn't to be deterred and I persevered to win the heart of my beloved.

Eventually, the course of true love prevailed and our relationship blossomed. Iris and I enjoyed furtive, passionate encounters in the toilets at Heathrow with novelty condoms to spice up the relationship.

Whenever I returned to the UK after being abroad, I would positively look forward to meeting Iris and staring into her eyes. In fact, if I didn't stare into her eyes, she would often scold me in her dull, mechanic monotone voice: 'Please stand back a little' or 'Please move to the right'.

However, when I finally got the positioning correct, I was rewarded by an orgasmic moan: 'Ooh - aah. That's right. Ooh - aah Cantona. That's perfect. Just keep it there.' Then, she would part her smoked glass double doors and invite me to enter the gateway to heaven. And baggage reclaim.

Last Friday, I returned from Dusseldorf (near Germany) and returned via Terminal 1. My excitement mounted as I made my way to meet Iris as I hadn't seen her since a short trip to a freezing Helsinki (near Finland) in January.

My heart raced as I finally set eyes on Iris again but I could immediately sense something was wrong. She seemed cold and aloof. She didn't acknowledge my presence in the booth. She didn't look into my eyes. She didn't ask me to move closer. Nor did she ask to me move away.

A stony silence ensued. The tension grew. I moved forward - no reaction. I desperately tried to look Iris in the eyes but nothing. Suddenly, Iris asked me to look into the middle camera unit and I found myself squatting down, desperately trying to catch her eye and get her attention.

The interminable silent treatment from my lover continued. God - this was so embarrassing. I could sense the whole army of arriving passengers staring at Iris and I falling out of love.

Then finally, she came out and said it. She didn't bother with any pleasantries. No long, rambling, tearful conversation starting 'Dear John'. No hesitant 'This isn't about you - it's about me.' Iris just ended our three year relationship - three years filled with laughter, joy and slurping noises - with the immortal words: 'Your data can not be reconciled. Please seek assistance.'

With my face reddening, I turned to go. To my horror, a lengthy queue of important looking business types (some with BA Executive Gold cards) had slowly gathered behind Iris. Iris already had a stream of 30 handsome suitors queuing up to take my place. As I walked away, crestfallen, I overheard a gentleman mutter 'Idiot - you shouldn't even be allowed to use Iris.' while another said 'I'm going to miss my meeting now, you fool.'

Broken, I walked away and took my place in the queue for conventional passport control. After 25 minutes, the Iris queue had fully dissipated and my paper passport was checked fleetingly by a pretty young lady with auburn hair and a striking figure.

She smiled knowingly: 'Have you just been rejected by Iris ?' 'No - what on earth makes you think that ?' 'Well - I watched you get rejected by Iris earlier, your face is blotchy and I can tell you've been crying.'

'Anyway, forget Iris - let's talk about us. What time do you knock off tonight ?'

[ This whole sorry episode will be screen on 'UK Border Force' on Sky 1 on Thursday April 8 at 20:00 ]

Idea for a new TV series - When Ethernet cables go bad - A fascinating 60 minute documentary into the wide range of issues people have with wireless networks. The program would also include some C list celebrities and a phone/text in competition to win something.

I have had a wireless network in my house for at least four years. Perusing the annals of this blog reveals that while I have experienced various, sporadic issues over this period, by and large, the wireless network has been pretty reliable with three PC's, a laptop and an iTouch device using it without problems.

Most issues could be resolved simply by rebooting the router and cable modem or very occasionally traced to a broader problem with network connectivity from my ISP, Virgin Media.

Recently, my 7x24 Internet monitoring service known as my son came down into the lounge to watch TV. This normally means one thing - the Interweb is down and Call of Duty is missing one of their Lieutenants. And so it proved.

On this occasion, rebooting the router and modem didn't resolve the problem and plugging a laptop into the cable modem proved that the lack of connectivity wasn't due to Virgin Media.

A hard reset to the factory defaults and running an open network worked. For a while. Then the router dropped again. Installing the Linksys firmware to replace the open source and freedom loving Tomato software worked. Briefly. Then it broke again. Stubbornly the router reported 'Could not renew lease.'. No matter how many times, or how hard, I hit the 'Renew Lease' button.

This state of affairs simply could not continue so after investigating a little on the Interweb, I reached the reluctant conclusion that my 5 year old Linksys wireless router was, in technical terms, broken.

Curiously, for me, I spontaneously decided to buy another Linksys router to replace it. A like for like replacement. Subconsciously, despite the unit failing, I still viewed Linksys as reliable and found myself strangely reluctant to try another make and model.

I quickly shopped around and purchased a Linksys WRT54GL and, to my surprise, found it slightly cheaper at ebuyer.com than my usual preference for online purchases - Amazon. The router arrived the next day and I was able to quickly configure the network again as the family gathered expectantly inquiring 'Can I play Call of Duty yet ?', 'When can I check my email ?' and 'Listen - I need to get on Facebook now.'

Everything ran smoothly and everyone was deliriously happy. For 8 days until Norman Junior III came down into the lounge to watch TV again. After a period of 8 full days without watching any TV or speaking to us.

'Is it down again ?' 'Yeah - I rebooted both boxes and my PC can see the router but the router can't access the Internet.'

Back upstairs to stare at the Administration screens and the worryingly familiar 'Can not renew IP address' message. This time, I installed the Tomato firmware which worked briefly. I then reverted to the Linksys firmware as I prepared to raise the problem with Linksys technical support. But I didn't need to as, after resetting to the factory defaults and reconfiguring, it worked. Internet access was restored. Everyone was happy and didn't thank me. For a couple of days.

This loss of connectivity was now a complete mystery and now starting to get very irritating. Brand new router. Sporadically failing. My son and I stared at the blue box with the flashing lights and the contents of the new router box looking for the sentence on 'Troubleshooting'.

Norman Junior broke a rather stony and tense silence: 'What's that blue cable ?' 'Oh - it's just an Ethernet cable that came with the router.' 'Maybe that would work better as it's brand new.' 'It won't be that. These problems are not caused by an Ethernet cable. They either work or they don't.'

'What's the harm in trying it though ? We haven't got any other ideas, have we ?' So I exhaled loudly, sighed, threw in a couple of expletives and switched the original grey Ethernet cable supplied all those years ago by Virgin Media with a shiny, new, slightly shorter blue Ethernet cable.

And lo and behold, the blue Ethernet cable worked. Access to the wireless was restored. The bloody Internet worked. Perfectly. For 3 weeks, 4 days and 17 hours and counting. Rock solid.

He's a bloody genius, my son.

And the elephant in the room - the original 'failed' Linksys WRT54G router sitting up on top of the wardrobe, taunting me, calling to me, nagging away at me like a dripping tap. The temptation to switch back to the original router and try it with the blue Ethernet cable is one I have been able to resist. So far.

Working title: the dangers of Facebook, online dating, stranger danger and gross stupidity.

The (now defunct) Chameleons remain one of my favourite bands but were responsible for the most embarrassing night of my life.

After the band reformed, I went to their London gigs and occasionally frequented the (now defunct) Wishville forums for discussion about the band, concert reviews, banter about football, discovering new bands - all the usual stuff we did before Twitter and Last.fm came along.

In November 2002. The Chameleons played a single date in London before a German tour. As I had struck up a friendship with a like minded individual on Wishville (liked footy, liked The Chameleons, liked a laugh) and exchanged messages with him, we arranged to meet up for a drink in Camden before going on to the gig.

Mark Burgess is a City fan, so he'd arranged the gig deliberately to clash with United playing Bayer Leverkeusen in the Champions League so I'd hoped to see most of the game before going to the venue.

Anyway, we exchanged mobile phone numbers, exchanged descriptions and arranged to meet in an Irish pub (public bar) that was showing the football. I didn't tell my Mummy in case she was worried about me meeting a strange man I'd recently met on the Interweb.

Inevitably, something screwed up on the night mainly because we are blokes. I can't recall precisely what happened but someone had a flat battery, lost their phone or told their Mummy so I arrived at this hostelry and furtively tried to identify this gentleman from a (Wedding) photo he'd shown me.

To cut a long story short, I couldn't find him and he couldn't find me. Worse, the footy wasn't been shown in the Irish pub or rather, I think Arsenal was being shown instead of United, so I went elsewhere to watch the game.

After a few beers and United taking a 2-0 lead, I made my way to Dingwalls. Now, there was no way I was going to make contact with my 'Internet acquaintance' in a packed venue so I was quite prepared to enjoy the support (Brian Glancy), soak up the pre-match atmosphere, drinking overpriced lager while watching the technicians twiddle buttons on amps, place guitars on stands and say 'One Two - One Two' into microphones while waiting for The Chameleons to take the stage.

Unfortunately, as always, alcohol intervened and as I watched Glancy performing, I happened to see a young lady who was also a regular on Wishville. This young lady spent every spare minute and every spare quid on watching bands and had traipsed around Germany and the States following The Chameleons on tour.

Unfortunately, I only knew 'Cath' by reputation and only recognised her by virtue of her distinctive dyed red hair. While I enjoyed her superb gig reviews, we'd never communicated directly so I didn't know her and she certainly didn't know me.

I should have just left it well alone but for some reason I didn't and I approached a complete stranger (a female one at that) and memorably opened with: 'Hi Cath. Do you know where Joe is ?'

Cath Aubergine (for that was her rather unusual name) broke off her conversation with her mate, turned to me and replied: 'Sorry - what ? Joe who ? Who are you ?'. There may have been the odd expletive thrown in for good measure.

'Joe - I arranged to meet him here but....'

Blank stare. Her mate is also now looking at me with a similar blank stare. 27.4 seconds left before the 6'2" boyfriend returns from the bar with their drinks.

'Look - you know. Joe - Mr. Moto. Have you seen him ?'

'Oh Mister Moto - why didn't you say ? But what's your name ?'

'Andy.'

'Sorry - did you say 'Andy' ?' Another piercing, blank, suspicious stare. Times two.

'Look. I'm RomanTotaleXVII on the forums but my real name's Andy, alright'. Christ - the embarrassment levels were now excruciating as we were having to shout this conversation above the noise of Bryan Glancy's set.

'Oh so you're RomanTotaleXVII but hang on - you're not RomanTotaleXVII any more. You are now...'

'Yeah, yeah I know. I'm now FieryJack.'

'Yeah - you're the guy who names himself after The Fall characters. Well why didn't you just say so ?'

And so it came to pass - Cath Aubergine led me to the bar area and introduced me to Mr. Moto (aka Joe Donellan).

'Hey Joe - I've got someone who wants to meet you. Here he is - RomanTotaleXVII'.

Im not sure if it was Doug or Michael who first pointed me towards David Thornes 27bslash6 site but his latest exchange of correspondence with Michael Harding of the South Australian police is hilarious and had me in stitches.

I've read the article four times now and am still smiling. You can't really quote sentences in isolation to pay justice to the brilliant humour so just enjoy the full article. The guy is a truly brilliant writer.