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2,000 hamsters can't be wrong.

05 April 2008

Grand National Day - Hooray 

Let's all just jump up and down with glee for a while.

This is not a good day to be working in the betting industry, unless you're on the top of the hierarchy. When, of course, you wouldn't actually be working on a Saturday.

Since I'm watching a lot of Boston Legal these days, I am on stupid law suit alert and some of these people really should get a life.

I think I'm going to start watching Doctor Who for the first time in my life. Never found it remotely interesting before, but I'm afraid the notion of the very funny pairing of David Tennant and Catherine Tate has lured me in. Tennant has been brilliant hosting The Friday Night Project twice, and it was great fun listening to Tate interviewing Tennant for Radio 4 some weeks ago. Oh, and I actually watched the Christmas special two years ago when Tate's character was introduced.

I dunno, maybe I'm just procrastinating. Or wallowing in my loathing of all things City Link. Yes, four times in a fortnight they have lied about coming around to my house to deliver something. I swear, the next time some online company tells me they shipped something via City Link (much to my protestation), I will tape everything that happens on our security cameras all day long, to prove that NO ONE from City Link goes anywhere near our house. Strangely enough, on the same day, Royal Mail (bless'em; at least they're trying) manage to deliver parcels twice without any problems. The pizza and Indian takeaway people have no problems finding our doorbell, either. But City Link are incompetent bastids who can't be arsed to even try, and I have a feeling they're deliberately not delivering anything so that I'll have to spend time and money ringing their "automated telephone service" to arrange a re-delivery...which also, lo and behold!, never turns up.

I have taken to giving City Link vans the two-finger-salute on impulse, so I feel a very deeply-rooted hatred for that company, apparently.

In other news, look out for the first few series of Whose Line is it Anyway (especially the one with Peter Cook, if you are a masochist) on Dave (the channel) starting next week. Also, a re-run of Seymour the Fractal Cat on BBC Radio 7 on Tuesday night. AND Michael Ball's new radio show begins on BBC Radio 2 tomorrow.

OK, chop, chop, back to work. The plebs await.

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Comments:
Yay, another potential Doctor Who convert!

I think you should watch the spinoff, Torchwood, too. Captain Jack is yummy. :-D
 
Well, no. You see, I sort of liked John Barrowman long before Torchwood, and he's on telly over here so often I've just decided enough is enough--stay away from Torchwood!

Plus, it looks silly. :D (Says she who loves the original Hitch-hiker's Guide to the Galaxy TV series...)
 
Força Companheira!

You’re not the only one afflicted by defunct delivery services.
I’ve had similar things happening to me in the quite recent past. Around Christmas I was waiting for my Play Station 3 like another snotty toddler waiting for ‘Julenissen’ to appear. I had arranged for Elprice (the seller) to have the wonder delivered at my doorstep, and one bright morning (‘bright’ must not be taken literally as it was pitch dark in Kongsberg Norway at 8 am December 22) Elprice texted me that postman Pat would appear at my doorstep around 5pm (which was, figuratively spoken, to be yet another bright moment). From 4:30 and onwards, from a vantage point in his living room next to the window, squinting Hawkeye (aka yours truly) was viewing the steep footpath leading up to his doorstep. Guess what! Nobody showed, and at 7 pm I gave up. Next morning, which was an unbright morning I went round to the post office to demand an explanation. Nor the least bit of bad conscience to be discerned. Of course, delivery had proved impossible when the addressee was absent and the puny mailbox unfit for the package. When asked whether I was sure that I’d been home I had to stare the enemy down, informing him that long in the tooth I well may be, but I still keep track of my whereabouts (at least in a sober state). I then triumphantly proceeded to ask whether or not it was customary to leave a message in the mailbox when a delivery stalled. When that was answered in the affirmative, I gloatingly swore that my mailbox was totally empty, not the slightest trace of any message. The enemy suggested that a neighbour might have stolen it, and then I blew my top. OK, one of my neighbours may well be capable of stealing stalled-delivery-massages just for the hell of it. However, the fact of the matter is that it had been snowing heavily up until round 4 o’clock and the next morning there still wasn’t a single footprint to be seen any where near my mailbox! The only way to reconcile this with the slightest grain of truth in my foe’s assertion would be to assume that the postal services had resorted to airborne carriers, be they helicopters or white winged mythical horses. This being brought home only produced a silly smile and the unconscionably cheeky suggestion that I undertake to carry the PS3 home myself. Needless to say I didn’t waste energy on answering. I just took off in less than a benign mood and hurried back home, lest they beat me to it and got into a situation where they might be able to prove my absence at the time of attempted delivery. Thirty minutes later the PS3 arrived.

This goes to show that UK is not the only place in the back woods cursed by sloppy delivery services lying through their teeth - Aug
 
"I was waiting for my Play Station 3 like another snotty toddler"

LOL!!
 
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