The ‘X’ files………
I’m not always ‘Alfie the OK.’ I have another persona – occasionally I am ‘Alfie the politician worrier.’
I write reams to them – I like to think they are pithy, witty, punchy letters that unfortunate politicians read with trepidation and awe. Once read, they immediately change Government policy as a consequence.
"Oh my God, it’s pithily witty Alfie – again showing us the error of our ways….. Thank goodness for Alfie and his wise words of waffle. If only he could be PM…."
The reality is that they are stamped ‘sod off you sad Meldrew git’ then shoved straight into the recycling bin. The old girl (Old mother Alfie) has been warning me – "I’m warning you, you’ll have ‘em-fifteen’ building a file on you."
"Em-eye-five" I wearily gesticulate. "It’s M-I-5…."
"AND they’ll be buggering your ‘phone"
Now I’d like to see that trick…..
Two weeks later, middle son rings me…. Apparently, there is a BT engineer fiddling with our wall box. Apparently, he says that there is a ‘fault’ on the line. Apparently, no one has reported it, but "there just is"
How’s that for efficiency? Bloody suspicious I think.
I rush home. It’s only 5 minutes from our office and knowing the inefficiency of BT, I reckoned he wouldn’t even have got his coat off and enquired about our tea stocks by the time I got there.
I get home fully expecting to see a man buggering a ‘phone but shadowy engineering dude has already gone. Tyre tracks are all that’s left of the BT Bug-mobile…
I rush in – "Was he a ‘smoking man’?"
"No, he wasn’t even a tea drinking man"
The box has been tampered with alright.
He’s disconnected our upstairs extension and has been fiddling around within.
"What are you looking for?"
"Bugs – I’m looking for bugs"
"What’s a bug look like Dad?"
I don’t know…….. I just don’t know what the bloody hell I’m looking for. Within the box is a passable impression of 3 plates of tangled up spaghetti – then there is some little boxy things with spikes sticking out. By this time, all 3 of the younger kids are standing in a line looking at me desperately fumbling about.
"Has a spy been here Dad?"
In desperation, I grab a bit of scratty earthing wire – attached to nothing in the bottom of the box.
"Ahhhh. Got it!"
I triumphantly hold aloft my very, very tightly closed fist.
"Well let’s see it then – the bug, let’s see the bug"
With that, I rush upstairs…
"Sorry, too dangerous – much, much too dangerous – must neutralise with bog water"
Upstairs to toilet, shut door, flush toilet, slip wire into pocket.
Hurrah, Big Brother foiled again!!
The power of advertising, so time to conduct an experiment …...
Call me ‘Thicky McTavish’ from the village ‘Densegit’ or whatever, but I’ve just noticed something. Sometimes the little blue adverts on the top of blogspot pages have a definite link with stuff that has been written a few days previously on the blog. So if you’re banging on about games and pastimes – a couple of days later you get ads for snooker tables and chess sets etc.
The server thingee must scan the blog for key words that link to its ad’ pool and bingo! – ‘warm’ advertising……
Anyway, have you been watching the Rugby? That DIRTY Aussie HOOKER, what a disgrace. And what about the motorways – traffic jams all the way! I travelled South the other day, there I was, tootling along in my Ford ESCORT, going nowhere fast….. I eventually turned up in MiddleSEX.
‘ Thinking of going to AMSTERDAM for a short break. I do LOVE going away. It’s going to be a coach TOUR. Must go now, a man is delivering our new SHAG pile carpet.
Subtle, it aint ….