Odessii's Odyssey

The Ghost In the Woods.

Ever since he’d been about five or six he was always the weird lonely child who’d sit at the back of the classroom on auto-pilot letting the Imagination take the controls. The child whom would perform most of his curriculum’s allocated tasks not to the best of recognised abilities. This was a point which was always, without fail mentioned in Parents evening meetings or brought up in his annual school reports, Statements alike the one below were commonplace:

“Your son is a bright and well mannered pupil who appears to be friendly in manner, yet has a very limited attention span when it comes to his class work, which I feel is affecting his reach on his full prospective.”  

The amount of times his mother read the drivel above, year in year out is unimaginable, and despite somewhat futile talks his mother gave him to ‘Listen In Class, instead of mucking about’ were pointless. For he considered what the school set him to do as ‘pointless’, and this jaded outlook on the national curriculum continues even today, I hear.

The reasoning behind his lack of attention span wasn’t based on Attention Deficit Disorder from overeating microwave meals everyday, oh no, (On the contrary, as a child, the mere notion of a microwave dinner was a complete novelty, and when it did happen, such an event was considered as big, perhaps even bigger than Christmas!) It was in fact, Ghosts.

Ghosts.

It was all he ever thought about, it’s all he ever wanted to do with every waking moment of the day (and night, naughtily enough!), and it was, to a lot of people’s chagrin, even today apparently, all he ever talked about, even at times toddling along to himself mumbling away as he went.

At school, every break time after wolfing down his lunch he’d run as fast as his little legs could carry him – his scuffed brown leather satchel bursting with books and trailing with a bounce behind him in the  mid summer haze attached to his clutching hand. He’d run all the way to a well secluded area in the long grass far, far at the back of the school beside the old woods, where everyday he sat and read his beloved books which he borrowed from the school library. They were only small books, about 12 pages long, yet he’d borrowed them every week and had probably read them cover to cover thousands of times.

It was one summer day like this that it began. There he was, sat in the long grass cross legged, again re-reading the dog eared ladybird book of ghosts which had almost become as attached to him as a new hand, where suddenly there was what sounded like the thud of footsteps behind him in the woods. He stood immediately expecting to see a teacher scorning him for being ‘Out of Bounds’, but instead there was nothing. He stood for a minute, looking through, or at least trying to look through the trees and summer greenery of the leaves. Then, out of nowhere, he heard a groan, like a pained groan. He was about to take a step toward the trees to investigate the source of the noise, but was interrupted by a group of bored older pupils walking towards him. The older pupils playfully accosted him and demanded to know what he was doing hiding in the long grass on his own. Without thinking about it he suddenly blurted out, “I just heard a ghost, Gerroff me, I’ve gotta see it!” The older pupils all laughed and began to mock and tease him, when suddenly another loud thud followed by a groan again were heard at the woods as before. The group all fell into a stunned silence at the eerie noise and as they all turned and looked at each other failing not to look overly panicked, but before anyone could say anything the sound of the bell ending the lunch break summoned everyone to their classes causing the rabble to disperse.

Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t think of anything else after his strange incident at the mouth of the woods and was filled with thrilled anticipation at the thought of going into the woods alone to investigate. “Tomorrow,” he thought “I really need to prepare for this!” as the afternoon continued he sat, typically ignoring the lesson choosing to write his itinerary of things he’d need to investigate the ghost! “Pen… Paper… Satchel…. A watch….. A Camera…. My Hat… “As the school filled with parents coming to collect their children he realised that it was time to go home and prepare…

The night passed in what seemed like an eternity to him. He lay in the top bunk of his bed which he shared with his brother and stared at the ceiling, thinking through the possibilities that he’d see his own ghost. ‘What will it look like? Will he or she like me?’ The night trundled on and the bedroom was filled with the sound of his brother gently snoring and darkness. ‘I’m too excited to sleep!’ he thought. He hadn’t realised it but he was now lying with his eyes closed, imagining images of his own ghost. The ghost was that of another child, he imagined. They sat in the woods talking, laughing and playing. His name was Tom and liked Dinosaurs, and it turned out they both liked ghosts too, and even better, they quickly became firm friends. ‘This is great’, he thought. And just before the bell rang at the end of lunch he took his new friend down to the playground and……

“Come on, wake up!” It was morning and his mother was giving him a gentle wake up shake before breakfast. He’d been dreaming all night about the ghost in the woods, his new friend, infact! He smiled to himself at the thought of last nights dream as he excitedly got himself ready for school. When he got to school the morning was passing as slow as the previous afternoon. He sat himself at a desk beside a window, looking out onto a view of the woods at the back of the school. He sat staring, waiting for a glimpse of ‘Tom’. Soon, though for him what felt like an eternity passed and it was lunchtime once again. He ran to the food hall and wolfed down his lunch faster than usual, before pulling on his trusty baseball cap and running out into the playground, then across the field toward the spot where the day before he’d first encountered the noise. He slowed down to an almost halt, slowly creeping toward the woods in front of him. The anticipation was immense; he could feel his heartbeat hammering against his ribcage. He’d now come to the mouth of the woods and with a deep breath he thought ‘This is it…’ before taking his first step through the green ivy covering the entrance. As he walked through he suddenly felt something grab him, He shut his eyes tight and tried to scream but all that came out was a whimper.

After a moment of blind panic and deafening silence, laughter suddenly erupted all around him. He slowly opened his eyes and saw that it was the same older pupils who’d accosted him yesterday. ‘They’d got here before I could’ he thought, ‘What if they’d scared away Tom?’ But before he had a chance to demand why they were here a voice from behind him boomed: “We’ve found your ghost.” He turned and looked at the tall pupil who’d spoken. The tall older boy smiled smugly and pointed at an area behind him. They all walked to where he was pointing, and upon looking he said to himself “Oh no…” On the floor there was a makeshift shelter and a recently slept in bed with some damp blankets and empty tins of food and beer around it. He noticed that there was also an extinguished fire which had recently been alight.

“Some ghost, I didn’t realise it was homeless.” The tall pupil jeered along to the raucous laughter of the others around him. Crestfallen and feeling a little foolish, the little ghost hunter took off his cap and stuffed it into his satchel before walking away with his head hanging and his hands in his pockets as the bell to end break tolled.

That afternoon heavy rain began to fall outside the classroom. He watched from the same window as before looking out to the woods and couldn’t help feeling disappointed at the events of the afternoon. This time yesterday his excitement had been infallible, and today, rather than an itinerary in his school book like yesterday were instead doodles of thunder clouds following a rather offensive caricature of the tall pupil who’d gloated at him earlier. Putting the pencil down with a sigh he looked up a final time at the woods, before he was about to turn to the front of the class and finally take notice of his teacher.

Suddenly something caught his eye. It was only very brief but he saw what appeared to be something small and white weaving in and out of the trees on the edge of the woods gracefully, like a butterfly on a summer’s day. Without thinking he put his hand up as if to wave which appeared to make the white object stop dead for a moment before weaving into the depths of the woods never to be seen again. He was interrupted by his teacher giving a faux cough as if to gain attention. With his hand still waving he turned to see his class to looking and snickering at him, looks and snickers by now he was used to ignoring.

He could never be sure but just before the object he saw disappeared into the trees; it looked like it waved back. He continued to doodle this in his book, and before closing it for the day smiled to himself knowingly.                

02:05am

Just another day, well night in the office where I feel an ebb closer to cutting out my own eyes with a teaspoon. I don't even know why the fuck I came to work this evening. My sleep wasn't even sleep, It was that horrible half sleep where you have your eyes closed and perhaps dream but you're still aware of what's going on on the other side of your eyelids.

02:15am

That's what it was like for me trying to sleep today. I'm currently half way through my first of my last nightshifts and although I'm here writing this now, In five minutes i'll be in front of the telly in the communal lounge or browsing a website looking at stuff I have designs on buying that'll rot my teeth and my mind, or both. I really should start looking for a new job, I've been thumbing my way through a few possible choices and to date all that I have applied for is a job in one of the most prestigious comic book stores in the country, alas, I'm yet to hear a reply.

02:37am

Hmm, I'm hungry....

Finally recieved my Appraisal Review Summary sheet through the internal post this evening which would be nice cause for jovial jubilation if I hadn't already been waiting 11 months for it so it's probably good that I wasn't dying of Bum Cancer like Patrick Swayze is, because, boy, I'd really have missed out there!

Really!  

Toss out the cigars, someone!

Seriously though, I was reading through my summary and couldn't help but notice how much emphasis was put on the subject of Equality and Diversity, of which was raised at the appraisal to my memory as a small pointer on where improvement could be worked on, yet my typed appraisal summary makes me out to be Enoch Fucking Powell - I mean it even goes as far to decree (in bold) that I'm to attend a course in Equality and Diversity in order to allow my, what they're blatantly aluding as, primeval mind some sort of, well 'awareness' I suppose that I'm a bad person for any opinions I may have which differentiate that of the foppish, soppy-faced, Hand-Wringing 'Mind how you go' attitude of the trust who may as well put the dialoge box below up on the sodding screen everytime you go to touch the keyboard. Which incidentally, is black.
 
                                                                                                     


Fucking stupid. If I wanted to be brainwashed I'd watch piffle like 'Hollyoaks' not sit in a stuffy training room all day falling asleep to some militant black disabled third world lesbian bang on at us whilst I fall asleep dreaming of electric sheep.

It's getting so bad now that I even expect to log into my computer at work and be more or less chased around the office by a vengeful computer monitor brandishing a pitchfork and a torch for typing the words 'Black bags' when ordering our supplies. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for people doing what they have to do in life to get to where they have to get to, but to think that this will be achieved by PC wombles creating some sort of utopian society is fucking stupid and creates more problems socially than you could shake a stick at... In a non threatening way of course.

Naturally I haven't been on the aforementioned brain washing session which was highlighted in bold to, i dunno, create some sort of intimidating effect I suppose. But that's not to say that I haven't made any effort in acknowledging that the trust has a pretty big stiffy for Equality and Diversity which is why I now put the corperate diversity logo on my Newsletter along with Important religious dates, contact numbers and the like. Though even when I did that my boss at first suspected I was merely taking the piss, purely because the said logo is crap and looks like it was knocked together in 5 seconds by, I dunno, The French.

If I had my way on the subject of designing a new logo which would appropriately advertise Equality, I feel mine could be a lot better. All I'd need is a severely mentally and physically disabled homosexual black man, some peanut butter and a video camera. 

My plan: Firstly set up the camera so it is facing our gentleman, now smear the peanut butter gently around the man's mouth. At this point when the disabled man attempts to lick off the peanut butter make sure that the camera is filming him. First part done. Discard of your black man by rolling him down a hill or something and then find yourself an editing studio. What I would do at this point is dub in where the man's mouth is moving a 1920's Estuary accent which says "Look at me, Don't treat me different I'm a dandy just like you! I'm Bully! Thanks for asking." Whilst flashing a garish Equality logo across his forehead at the same time.  Or the one below which I feel is more appropriate

It's funny, sure, But I betcha it would be taken a lot more seriously than a hand-wringing, acne ridden specky cunt telling you not to sigh too deeply incase you offend the fish or asthmatics. 

 
 
       

I have so much to do it isn’t even funny. Yes, I’m at work and I’m not so much lamenting on that fact, just the point I raised that I have loads to do.

I’m supposed to be starting work on my resume this week as I’m supposed to be actively seeking work south of the river for my impending move later this year. What can I say; I did half … a bit …. Not much of it last night and that was depressing enough. I try to tend not spending too much time on this goggle-box anyway as it hurts my eyes after a while.

I must be getting old.

Not only do I have the resume to do, and I’ll be the first to admit that I really struggle writing that sort of thing, but I also have to type up some pretty important things for work. Can’t really go into the inn’s and out’s of what it is I’m expected to do – suffice to say that it’s boring and I really can’t be bothered. Not at 04:11 in the morning, anyway.

Another thing I’m late on producing for work though yet I haven’t is my newsletter of which, if I’m lucky I try to publish at least 4 times a year (If one has the luxury of luck, that is.) I really need to get one started, I was supposed to produce one by Easter, which just passed us rather early this year, (I’m urging the Church at this point to make up their minds as to when exactly Jesus died before I start gloating about them not having ‘a clue’ before discrediting their belief as ‘folly’ and ‘wholly misinformed’.)

In a typically infuriating fashion the ideas from not only my colleagues but also the tenants whom we care for haven’t really been flooding my ‘do it now’ pile either which leaves me with the omnipresent feeling of impending doom, knowing that I’ll probably once again have to do the whole thing myself. I don’t mind, it’s not like I’m short of ideas or anything, would be nice just to have some help once in a while.

My favourite issue of the newsletter that I do is always the Halloween issue hands down. Primarily because it’s so easy to write, it more or less writes itself. I’m typically given a free reign to do whatever the hell I like as it’s generally a fun and spooky affair. I tend to get a lot of paranormal stuff in there – Like reports of strangeness all over the planet, plus an old case study on haunting’s from yesteryear and my own personal take on the long forgotten case. Halloween’s fantastic for that, as generally everyone is up for a scare and a laugh and I don’t get reprimanded for terrifying schizophrenics with retellings of campfire esque ghost stories.

I suppose I’ve brought that up, Halloween and the ghost stories, that is, because I’m edging towards trying to sneak an unexplainable story into a newsletter. My newsletter in fact! Yeah, don’t be fooled that easily, just because I’m the ‘editor’ doesn’t mean I get away with printing what I like. Stuff like that is generally either the cause for raised eyebrows followed by a reprimand for ‘incitement for panic’ or widespread ridicule.  

It’s like when I was at high school and although I never studied GCSE Sociology, (I opted for History as there wasn’t a Psychology option and I found Sociology too pseudo and people friendly.) we once had a Sociology tutor take care of a few lessons as the regular guy was off sick, which basically meant that History ultimately regenerated itself into Sociology on an interim basis. For a homework assignment one time we were asked something to do with observing a stranger on the street and try to come up with their character profile just by watching them and their body language for a bit. Complete bollocks but I gave it a go as I already had someone in mind….

The person who I chose was locally well known as a ‘lady of the night’. She’d been about for years, always on the streets after dark with a very strange persona and appearance, she had a death-white face along with cold staring eyes and elongated canines, yet she was friendly enough when approached and everyone knew she was a prostitute, if a little weird. I remember my parents, well, my mother at least, warning my brother and I to stay away from her. Anyway, rumour was rife that she even had a few ‘Unexplained disappearances’ under her belt, or miniskirt, be it as it were.

I hypothesised in my assignment that this woman was in fact a vampire. I argued that It would be the perfect way to find potential prey and as there was well documented rumours that this woman was ‘responsible’ for the disappearances of 5 or more men in the local area. My imagination ran wild, more so given her physical and facial appearances. I even think that at one point I went as far to suggest that she may be over 500 years old! Anyhow, when it came to handing my ‘masterpiece’ in it didn’t take long for the tutor to discover my work from within the pile and promptly read it to the entire class before crediting me for my ‘vivid’ and ‘adorable’ imagination.

Cue many dead legs at breaktime. 


Carl Kolchak

Can’t remember a time I didn’t feel more like Carl Kolchak – The night stalker. At that point all I wanted to do was grab hold of my Raffia Pork Pie Hat, screw up the work I’d done and saunter out whistling a merry tune, just like the eponymous Kolchak did at the end of every episode. I think that the vampire prostitute thing was also an actual episode which is probably where I picked up the ‘inspiration’.

I dunno, Perhaps I should keep the newsletter in the 3^rd dimension rather than the forth. Besides, I’m getting too old to stalk out graveyards in the dead of night looking for ghosts, vampires or Necromancers’ to write about. Though I don’t think it would matter that much if I did.

I don’t think they read it anyway, and if they did at least i'd be credited for my 'Vivid' and 'Adorable' imagination'.                

Things may be tough if it's here that i'm refering to in order to make myself feel better about my ignominal pittance of a life. I haven't been on here for ages now if you excuse my last post of 6 days ago. Guess I've not really thought about posting here much in the last 20 or so weeks it were. 

Things have changed, others remain the same. People have died, others remain alive. 

For example, every month so far this year someone that I know has died. Here are two that, above all matter to me the most... 

In January I lost my client that I used to link work - (Yes, I still have the same job and the management is still as chaotic as ever.) on New Years Day no less. Now that was one hell of a shock, He died very suddenly of an Abdominal aortic aneurysm I believe. It was such a shock, so much so that I remember speaking to him as normal on my last nightshift before my 7 day break over the New Year period some 48 hours prior to his death. I remember feeling numb at the news. It was just a normal conversation, yet somewhat disregardable in substance in everyday life and easily forgotten by anyone. 

We shared a very similar sense of humour and normally conversations would border on the strange to the frequently absurd, casually swinging off into 'Mighty Boosh' esque tangents or just the hilariously downright offensive - Well, offensive to the PC wombles perhaps. In our last ever conversation we spoke about the 'at the time' recent announcement of the next Bond movie and it's premise as well as opinions on the latest Bond's acting credibility. Not forgetting his 'polite banter' in regard to the traditional Christmas dinner prepared by the staff here. It was all of 5 minutes, ending before it started. Some nights our conversations would last a few hours at least where anything would be discussed - from music and movies (which he had what appeared to be a somewhat encyclopedic knowledge of.) to politics and the state of the government (or NHS depending on his mood.)  

You sometimes forget that working in Mental Health can be a 'funny old game' at times and although I'm not supposed to I really liked him, and in all fairness he was one of my favorites. A person who made it so easy for you to like. What I mean is that some people can never see past their own pet pig of ignorance before engaging with someone who is suffering with ongoing mental illness and choose to read the label before buying the book, and although I, you, or anyone else for that matter will never ever know what is going on in their heads despite the bollocks which cognitive psychologists come out with, some can, Including my client, be summed up in one little sentance spoken by Thomas Edison:- 

 'Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless.'   

Rachel's mother died in February. The statement above couldn't be further from the truth for her either. Eventually though, after all the cancer, the mental illness she unfortunately endured, the TB - Fuck the list is endless! Polly peacefully died in her sleep essentially from smoking, really. Rachel initially took it well to be honest, although she has been finding it hard to grieve for her mother as looking after Reed is more demanding, increasingly so in fact, and I'm very limited on my support as I'm still living in Watford. The last weekend was particularly tough. Rachel and I were bickering as she was getting ready for a night out whilst I looked after Reed, just the usual bickering really, but what followed was probably our first proper argument in almost 2 years. Felt awful for the pair of us and it was then that I had the sudden epiphany that She hadn't yet grieved her loss at all. That just made me feel even fucking worse, like i was eating a suicide breakfast or something. It was a tough weekend as I've said which left me feeling rather empty, redundant, jaded and remorseful as I journeyed home listening to Thomas Newman compose in my head a suitable soundtrack for my feelings of ambivalence.

I really need to do more, I had this realisation of epic Danté Alighieri 'Inferno' proportions on the way home on the train, and like Danté i'm almost, if not already past the halfway point in my life and faced with a journey through the bowels of hell itself heading toward the devil in bondage unless I do all I can to help. I'm digressing, I know. It's, fuck, 04:13 in the morning, you know, and i'm oh, so very tired. 

At least i've posted.

Carry on.

According to my account with this I've managed not to post on here for 25 weeks! That's almost half a year (for the benefit of the number retarded, alas myself,) anyway, I lost my Internet..... well I say 'my', I mean the neighbours Internet connection about 25 weeks ago so that's why It's been quiet.

Can't really be bothered to write a lot now, but I will soon.

Maybe in another 25 weeks.

Ok, so it might have been a week..... ~sigh~ Alright two, since I last updated this, but really I've been so busy at work and drinking beer and gun-running hookers all over Hertfordshire, while at the same time rescuing many, many old ladies' pussy's which were caught in trees, which took up all my time and every hour god Time has given me so, No, I won't apologise for not updating any details of my life thus far. And No, I'm not lying I really do have an action packed adventure like this everyday....

No not really, I'm lying.... Well the beer and work bit is true. As for the 'GTA: Watford' style Hookers, gun running and old ladies that's, well... All In my fetid abortion of a mind.

Truth is, I'm back on that fucking facebook bollocks. Yeah, don't look at me like I should be proud of myself either. It should be called 'Face-smack'. A 'no-frills' version of MySpaz, Incredibly addictive and hard to avoid, so yes i'm just like all the other fucktards who base their lifes around it. It's addictive due to the simpleness of it's very concept and quite frankly that scares me. All I can think is.... 'Am I turning simple?' 

Fuck knows, Probably. 

Let's face it, I was sitting on Facebook the other day and I subliminally attempted to try and add myself as a 'friend' to myself to try and create a paradox within the Facebook system in what I can only describe as some pig-ignorant attempt to create such a void that the entire Internet would be swallowed up in some 'black hole' while every single computer, or Internet dependent device would implode on itself and vanish just like the Freeling house does at the end of the film 'Poltergeist'

Instead, I was presented with this well thought out counter strike:

I must have sat in shock for days, weeks, staring..... just staring at the warm fuggish glow of the inviting monitor. Not only was the system prepared for my well thought out paradoxial attack to destroy this nightmare for all those transfixed by it's technological terror, but it was also suggesting to me that I took medication, which to me meant 'Don't fucking try that again, sonny.... Oh, and get some fucking help too.'

They're onto me. 

Help...

Well it won't, but that's what government lackeys and hand-wringing mouth-breathing busy-bodies want you to believe. For quite a while now there has been a lot of guff regarding eating fatty foods and eating things which taste nice like like crisps, or sugar, or even a cockerspainiel from the local chinkie which will either give you a life threatening heart attack or Cancer. There's absoultely no evidence for this, yet they treat it like scientific fact. Even smokers, who for a long time now have been treated like the anti-christ had an extra kick in the nuts this July when they were suddenly banned from smoking just about everywhere and face a £50 fine from some mini Hitler sycophantic cocksucking jobsworth. 

To put it into another context, Look at those Cheese eating surrender monkeys, the French: They love to smoke and wear silly hats. I wouldn't see them putting up with some politically psychotic, racist, genocidal, lunatic, bigot invading their country and telling them how to live....  Oh........... Sorry.


This Multi-Cultural Ashtray, typically seen in pubs around Brixton has been out of work since July 1st.

But anyway, It's all fucking absurd. 

I don't smoke, I never have. It's an absolutely repulsive habit and a lot of people who do smoke often say 'Well i'd jolly well like to give up, but.....' That's fair enough, it's an addiction and should be treated like any other. People that drink to excess and end up missing work, or in more extreme cases lose fucking everything and end up on the streets are treated as disabled. Fag packets are now apparently going to have pictures on them of dead babies and people with extreme stages of throat cancer to try and get people to stop smoking, which brings me back to the point of food 'Being bad for you'. This nation is obsessed with obesity at the moment and in recent months all food has been given a little ditty called a 'Nutritional Breakdown' which is normally colour coded with a traffic light system to tell you what is 'good' and what will potentially kill you. I never look at it because quite frankly I couldn't give a monkeys fuck. The way I see it, We're here for a good time, not a long time. 

But no, colour coded 'guides of doom' are simply not enough, Now we're going to get warnings on Kit-Kats and a picture of a fat person who's kindly agreed to be laughed at for all time. 

How about Walkers crisps? Are they going to have a picture of a stricken Gary Lineker in a hospital bed with Cancer of the ears because he had 'one too many' smokey Beckham flavour? 

It isn't just food though, I think. What about things like the Bible, or the Quran? Well even more-so the Quran in fact! Why don't these things have a warning label on? I mean Reading the Quran and misinterpreting it appears to lead to a more sudden death than a Big-Mac, but not only the idiot who reads this relatively peace promoting text and interprets it the wrong way but also the people around them they suddenly intend to harm. I really don't want to sound Bigotted on this one so all I'll say is that I think that it's more important to have warnings on things like Religious texts. 

All of them.







It could work? 

It was earlier when I was cleaning up my Home computer when I noticed it. I decided that my PC could do with a bit of a tune up, as it had recently become as slow as Stephen Hawking trying to ride a half pipe with punctures. 

I have plenty of 'Anti-Spam' and 'Anti-Spyware' programs on the PC. However, I have just seldom used them recently as I couldn't be bothered. Spam and Spyware are two things on computers which really annoy me. I mean, I'm not just 'gently miffed' or 'Pleasantly aggressive', No No, This two things make me feel like I'm dancing the tango wrapped in razor wire while a smug ginger haired oik of a child sprays me with lemon juice while reciting songs from 'Lazytown' with pre pubesent gusto. The problem with Spam and Spyware is the long-term damage that can be caused to your computer if left to fester like that strange old wizard beyond the Dune Sea. Sooner or later, it will emerge on your screen wearing a cloak and waving it's cyber arms about with menace scaring away normal programs like bewildered Tusken Raiders!

My computer however, seems to not only realise, but also relish the fact that I have high blood pressure. Everytime I try to correct an error I'm presented with another one. It's a bit like surfing the ripples of Dante's seven circles, It just goes on, and on, and on, and fucking on! I gave up half way through todays effort  and decided to retire back to bed to self prepare for my pending, and last nightshift. While I was lying in bed I was thinking that it wasn't just Spam and Spyware which is the main problem, It's also adverts you see day to day online, usually at the top of the page like this one below:

                                                  

Now let's face it, only a complete fucking idiot would fall for that one above, and apparently that one is completely canon. The point is that the sites which you look at are all potentcial risks to your computer as they all leech information which is piped down to other third parties. This goes for E-mails as well, why else do you think that once in a while you'll recieve an E-mail saying something like:- 



'Hello, Kind Sir, I am a Nigerian Prince, I need £500 to get my $900,000 out of the storage place. Please help, its not a scam, would Nigerian Royalty lie?'

Again, you would seriously have to have plastercine for brains to even entertain the idea of opening any e-mail attachment like that let alone reply to it. The cunning bastard people take these details in order to scam you. I get one of these e-mails maybe 3 times a week, hell I even got one on my work E-mail a few months ago and that's for business use only (so they say). 


Vint Serf At Google - Yesterday.

Vint Serf (shown above), known more commonly as one of the 'founding fathers' of the Internet was recently featured in the right wing red-top the Sun and annonced that the human race will become less dependant on running their own lives thanks to the Internet, which means that every single mundane task will be done online, I.E. That they will also not need to use their lungs anymore as everyone can breathe online! Serf was quoted as saying 'You ain't seen nothing yet'. That's shocking and only prooves one thing. More Spam, Spyware and cons. If anything, self-proclaimed 'owners' of the Internet like the aforementioned Google are blatantly going to be at the helm of all this as they more or less run the monopoly anyway. 

Serf was recently taken on by Google as  "Vice President and Chief Internet Evangelist." Which basically means he is sat beside the water dispenser for 12 hours a day and completely patronised while people entertain themselves as they go about their daily business by patting him on the head and making baby noises at him.

In short, the Internet is one big Con Market. Sure there is the spam clogging up the Internet like Antony Cotton's hair down his bathroom plug, and sure there's the Spyware sneaking aroung your system dressed In dark glasses,  macintosh coat, trilby hat and a briefcase. But just be prepared how many people are watching your system as you clean it. 

You'll be surprised.   

Thursday.

As far as days go it had been a pisser Shit Cunt box of fuck-wings from the get-go. 

Don't get me wrong, It all started pretty normal enough, I awoke at around 2:00pm and finally strummed up the enthusiasm to get out of my bed an hour later. That’s where normal ends. Soon as I got out of bed I stepped on a plug which was laying conveniently on the carpet prongs up causing me to fall over and not only bend my thumb back the wrong way but also use a lot of unnecessary bad language in a rather aggravated tone. This didn’t really last as long as you would have thought it would as I suddenly became jovially agitated. This of course was due to the realisation that I had actually, today, been paid! 

'Hooray' you would think, but stop right there. I walked to the nearest cash point en route to the local town centre and prepared myself to reap the beautiful rewards of my seemingly endless stints on the nightshifts only to be greeted with half of what I was expecting. I had to look twice at the transaction at the cash-point and by this time I was just left there staring at the screen like some dribbling, half brained television commissioner for ITV. I was suddenly aware of a serpent type queue behind me ‘tut-tutting’ at the prick who looked like a Neanderthal trying to comprehend the difference between eggs and porridge.

Aka: Me.

I completed the transaction straight away, snatched the card from the machine turned on my heel and pretended to put invisible money in my wallet. I guess it was a self assurance that I was offering everyone else who really didn’t care. Soon as I walked outside I noticed, what I can only describe as ‘bits of white flying everywhere’, which I understand is the same description used for describing Auschwitz concentration camp murders to children.

It was spunk, soggy rich tea biscuit, poo, bird shit. Bird shit i later cleaned off outside an off-licence with tissue and a bottle of water like some sort of grumbling tramp with a conscience and an air of decency.  
 
Town didn't get much better, I had to phone Rachel and tell her all about my follysome misadventures at the bank machine and devised an action plan to kneecap telephone the head of the financial office and see what the hell was going on. after the phone call I decided a bit of therapy was needed so I decided to go to the comic store as Thursday is also new comic day! when I walked in there were no new comics on the shelves but rather they were still in their import boxes awaiting being placed on the shelves. This was probably due to the fact that the two guys in there were too busy trying their best to chat up some poor girl who looked either lost or kidnapped (I couldn't decide which), with the angle of 'Would Spider-man wear Spider-man underwear under his uniform'. On any other day, this is a debate well worth the debate, but I was in such a mood I snatched up a Superman comic and stormed out in disgust.

       
Returned to complete my nightshifts at work that night, and that's when it happened. Again, like this morning everything was fine, I sat with colleages and completed the handover had a quick tea and went to the office to check my e-mails, communications, death threats ect. I placed my hand on the chair as I watched the ladst of the afternoon staff leave and felt a sensation similar to 500 napalm flavour cigarettes all burning me in one place at once. My legs went to jelly straight away and my mouth dried up. One of the guys who lives here had to lift me from the office and more or less walk me to the lounge where I sat trying to make SOS telephone calls talking like a drunk chimp with Downs Syndrome. I had to contact my boss who sent a replacement for my shift, when it appeared that I had to be taken to the hospital.

After I was given Oxygen, Steroids, Piriton and a fucking ECG I politely waited for 4 hours. A 4 hours I spent plotting things like 'Putting Caster wheels on the zimmer-frames' before being told to go home, I was feeling better, yet still shakey and in a word: Fucking Furious.

I had the next day off of work but returned tonight, where the war of the Idiots continues. I was supposed to begin the newsletter tonight, but lo and behold no-one has sent me content to put in it. Typical.

I should really e-mail everyone in complete contempt and lay down the law, but sadly I can't for two reasons: 



A:- I can't be bothered. 

and,

B:-    Sadly modern technology isn't that advanced yet that you can't e-mail  a glass coated bucket, filled with sulphuric acid (liquid nitrogen is also amusing) and carefully balance atop an ajar door Then watch as they run around, slowly dissolving.

Like I said, yet.