It Drives Me Mad...

'Ow do.

I have been a little quite on the blog of late.

The reason for this is that I have been preparing for my driving test, which was this morning.

It was a nerve racking event to say the least and (you will be glad to hear) one that did not have its fair share of idiotic moments.

To keep it short, because you have probably got better things to do with your time, I’ll just give you the highlights.

*It may be worth humming the theme to “some mothers do ‘ave ‘em from this point on*

Stalling the car before I reached the test centre was only the beginning of my woes and it was probably not the best time to wear my new boots.

Nothing to do with me... Honest!

Once the test actually began I lost the ability to speak.

My lips became floppy and limp. My throat couldn’t have felt drier if I had swallowed a fist full of salt and my brain simply stopped working.

Being asked questions such as “Can you show me how you would test the handbrake?” should be a breeze.

My initial response was one of GULP and lots of noises like “erm…” and “say wha…?”

Somehow that ordeal was passed okay and off on the road we went.

All was going well until I was asked to perform a parallel parking manoeuvre.

Seriously - Not my fault!

Not a problem, thought I as I had practiced this to perfection. And indeed I reversed the car into position like a professional.

Being the given the okay to drive on caused something akin to punching myself in the face.

Checking mirrors and blind spots and waiting for a clear stretch of traffic gave me the opportunity to pull away…. In reverse!

That’s right. REVERSE.

Idiot hole!

That is a fail in my book. A big fat sweaty fail and a half.

Driving in the wrong direction is NOT a good thing.

“Sod it!” I thought. The realisation that I had bummed my driving test in a massive way right near the start caused me to loose my nerves and drive away the remaining 40 minutes without too much care.

Three roundabouts and a jaunt (that’s right jaunt) down a couple of A roads and into a housing estate and I came across something quite disturbing indeed.

Most definitely not my fault.

As a novice driver I admit I am not the most knowledgeable when it comes to the rules of the road. I do believe though that driving your car ON THE PAVEMENT at over 30 miles per hour is NOT the norm.

The car was not mine you understand, but some numb nuts who came from nowhere on my left and was driving on the pavement of his own accord (it had nothing to do with me.)

Beyond the oceans of rain that fell throughout my test I managed to return to the test centre in one piece, parked up and turned the engine to hear these words:

“Well, Mr Hogart I am please to say you have passed your test.”

EX-CUE-HOO-SE ME?!?!?!?!?

Didn't see that coming did you – I didn’t.

So just be careful out there next time you drive a car or cross the street. There’s an idiot somewhere driving backwards with a chuffing driving licence in one hand and a spam and egg butty in the other.

Ps – I love me a good spam and egg butty.

Not mine, but That will do for me!

PPS- you can stop listening to the theme to “some mothers do ‘ave ‘em” now.

How Does Steven Hawkins Manage?

As we near the end of April I also find myself reaching the end of my patience with technology.

Yet again my teeth are being ground down to the nerve by the never ending gnashing and grinding of my jaw.

I have very little faith that I would be of any use whatsoever in the event of some kind of global catastrophe.

WHY MEEEEEEEE!!!!

Never before in the history of the human race have we become so utterly dependant so very quickly upon little tiny machines made of cheap plastic and wires.

In the week that celebrates the 30^th anniversary of the Spectrum ZX I find myself cursing the invention of electricity.

30 Years old and as useless today as I am!

From the buzzing noise of the fan from my laptop to the failure of Sky Go to... well- GO! To the resounding sulkiness of my mobile phone refusing to accept an update.

The other night I wanted to watch the football. However MRs H had taken control of the remote control and was in charge so it was zombies all the way (until it got dark anyway – she won’t watch horror after dark – the wimp!)

But not being able to watch a game of kicking ball on the big screen is not the end of the world anymore. We now have the ability to view live action from across the world on the little boxes on our laps. And so that is what I set out to do.

Clicking on the link I eagerly awaited the screen to launch into the Chelsea v Barcelona game.

But alas this is what popped up in front of my eyes instead.

Bastards!

After many attempts and a little swearing I gave up and decided to speak to somebody at sky TV direct to resolve this issue of mine.

Here is an extract from my conversion...

Click to Englarge - as the acress said to the bishop...

Alas I missed what I am led to believe was a very entertaining example of Millionaires’ running about for a bit.

It seems apparent that with all this doodads and gadgets we now have in our lives to make things easier all we have is done is make things even more complicated and when something that we take for granted suddenly stops working... the whole world might as well take a tea break.

That’s how it seems to me anyway.

Oh yea – and Blogger doesn’t help itself either.

Rant over.

Carry on.

Bumferry Hogarts Big Bonanza Budget 2012.

 Norman Osborne (that is his name isn’t it?) has today been asked to stand up and give a talk entitled 

“What I did on my holidays”

.

The chancellor of the exchequer.

Through this speech he told everyone just how poor they will be in the coming year and just how much debt the country will be in for the next blah blah blah.

Its all a bit boring really, and with that in mind I hereby offer to you my own version of the UK budget for your approval.

Taxation: Increase of overseas taxes will rise to, oh I don’t know. Lets say 23.4% by taxing any and all rainfall that originated in Europe. This will

comfortable and a snack!

EXPORTS: crisp packets found on the street will be wiped clean with a cloth and rebranded as Funky sleeping bags for Scandinavian midgets and dwarfs. I reckon we can get around a fiver for each one.

Ash and burnt wood from last years riots will be collected and sold to American tourists for £45 a pop.

IMPORTS: The UK will start to make its own weather by building more wind farms. But we will have them pointing out. That way all the smog can go to France and we should be able to blow away all that cold air from Norway.

ECONOMY: Another round of fiscal funding will be supported by this government by asking each household to root down the back of the sofa and sending in whatever currency they find. This should produce an estimated figure in the region of £3.23 - £9,655,011.11 per household.

Footballers and anyone else who spits in public and is caught on camera will be fined £10,000 per gob.

Woo-Hoo! 20p Bitch!!!

IT been calculated that this act alone will reduce the UK’s debt by half before the end of the season.

JOBS and WELFARE: 45 thousand part time and full time opportunities will be created within the welfare system at a cost of £200 million to provide a helpful “there, there” to those who have found their welfare benefits cut. The total of benefits cuts will total around £200 million plus costs of setting up the new “There-There” recruitment scheme.

NHS: the Nation Health Service will be sold off to the highest bidder. The cost of Beds will start at £500 each, those tall metal stands that stand by the side of the bed should fetch a few quid as well because they sell something similar at IKEA and that stuff costs a bloody fortune.

OLYMPICS: a letter of apology will be issued to each tax payer when it becomes clear we have completely buggered it up and won naff all. Unless we do win loads of medals, in which case, we will be expecting a handwritten letter from the daily mail.

FUEL: Cars and motorbikes must not be driven over buses or through burning hoops of fire.

All this could be yours!!!!

ROADS: every road user will be issued with the responsibility of caring for and the upkeep of one mile of road. Litter potholes and the general upkeep of each bit of road will be the legal responsibility of each person and failure to maintain ones bit of road will result in a dirty look from somebody’s mum. This will reduce the cost and responsibility by the government and save bucket loads.

Any extra money collected by the government will be used to buy a load of scratch cards in a effort to help reduce the lost money given to the banks.

Finally, all crime will be outlawed and being naughty will be frowned upon.

Other things will be changed but they are far to boring to go into detail right now. If theres anything else you would like to tax or change just pop in the box below and consider it done.

Yup! That should keep 'em on their toes for another four years.

Why Can't Things Be As Cool As The 80's?

When it comes to technology (and most other things to be honest) I’m pretty much clueless.

Right now, as I write this, my laptop is sat on a thing which keeps it from overheating; out the side of the laptop is another cable that goes to a white box that is a hard drive. I’m also charging my phone and doing something with the music, but I have no idea whether it’s working or indeed, what I actually want it to do.

Double click you *&$£

 

I am forever fiddling and changing things on my computer to make it work a bit faster or do something new. More often than not it doesn’t work and I have to uninstall something or delete things or, as is usually the case, just swear a lot and turn it on and off again.

Sometimes I do all three.

Nobody is more surprised than me that I haven’t broken something of value with all my gadgets and toys and doo-dahs.

I lose my I-pod cable more often than I care to mention.

I guess it’s a sign of growing old.

Saaaaaaaay-gaaaaaaar!

I remember way back when CD’s were the future and not the past, that if something went wrong with an electrical item or computer problem I was the go to guy in my family. Mainly because I was a child and children are made for technology. They go together like peas and carrots although I would never eat my veg as a kid which I’m sure proves some kind of point...

Anyway...

As a child of the 80’s I was used to such things as the spectrum zx +2 and megadrives with their amazing 16bit memories, unfathomable by today’s standards. These days there are shoe laces for sale with more technology in them!

It only takes 30 minutes to load a tape

I had a watch that was also a calculator AND it had a light so you tell the time at night.

My friend even had one that changed the TV and caused our English teacher to think she was magnetic because every time she went near the class TV he would turn it on and off. (Hilarious!)

The equivalent prank today would be performed via 3G Bluetooth Wi-Fi black magic and the sex offenders register. (Not that my English teacher was a sex pest, although there was a rumour she was in a mucky jazz mag.... and she looked the sort to do it as well...)

Mrs Morton was her name I think... I’ve googled her name but nothing naughty popped up so I might be wrong with that..

Victory!!!

Back to the point of this post...

Um..

Oh yes.

Twenty years ago it was unthinkable that we would have such amazing technology at our disposal. Not taking into account the fact that we satellite communications or are able to download entire films in a flash without need for postage and packaging, but we can do it all from a little plastic box no bigger than a normal sized hand.

Not even Carol Vorderman from Tomorrow's World could have guessed that one.

Don't even get me started on mobile phone signals...

Where will these progressive leaps in technology lead us to I find myself wondering as I sit beneath a cornucopia of wires and ever increasingly warmer plastic cubes of magic?

I don’t know, but I do know that I won’t understand any of it.

The more technology progresses the more I find myself becoming obsolete and outdated. Much like the original walkman.

As anyone under the age of 15 what VHS is or try to explain what a mix tape was and how you made one and prepare yourself for the blankest and wildest look of horror in your life.

Bloody kids.

Self Pity And The Illusion of Popularity

First things first...

This is not a sympathy post – nor is it a begging post either. While reading this self deprecating post please be aware that I am incredibly bored and don’t know what I am doing with, well .  .  . all will become clear (I think).

I apologise now if this post is somewhat me me me and down beat, but a made up man has got to do what a made up man has got to do - even if I don't actually have to do it.

Now carry on.

In the never ending quest to occupy the time between any given moment and that point in existence when it all stops and nothing matters anymore I often find myself staring at the screen of my laptop in awe and wonder.

Boo Hoo - Im soooo alone...

The internet, as we all know, is full of nonsense and idiots (like this and me), but hidden amongst the highly unnecessary and quite vulgar amount of pictures involving naked women/men/various farm animals/household objects and any variation thereof not to mention the cornucopia  of puerile antics of faceless celebrities doing or not doing things. . . hidden somewhere in the darkest recesses behind the video of some pointy faced millionaires’ daughter doing things to a man and a couple of clicks away from the photo of “her off the telly who used to do that thing” is a thing called Google plus or Google+ for the internet savvy out there.

I however am not one of these internet savvy illuminati.

I am a bloke who has got far too much time on his hands although that does not excuse me for what I have done.

Waa-Waa I am interesting in real life...HONEST!!!

For some unfathomable reason I clicked a couple of buttons and ended up putting my face and name and DNA and inside leg measurement up on the web for all to see on the afore mentioned Google+.

For two weeks I have been staring at the pages of Google+ in mild confusion. Reading page after page of media types slowly changing their views on this new social website and how is becoming more and more popular, I thought I would take the leap of uncertainty and join up and learn what it’s all about.

Doing so, however, has left me feeling more alone than Lonely Len McSaddo from the village of solidarity.

When reviewing my so called circle of friends it really is laughably pathetic to include the BBC website and NASA (who are only there because they are the only things on Google+ that I recognise).

And so I find myself clicking on Google+ for no other reason than to play Millionare city. A game for children that is also available on Facebook, another screen to stare at but one which contains real life fleshy people I have physically touched in a none sexual manner (with their consent) at some point of my life. A time wasting exercise of futility that does nothing but mirror my own online existence.

*Sigh* Nobody knows the REAL me!

This is what happens when you go online using your real name.

Dicking about as Bumferry Hogart means I can pretty much say what I want about whatever subject I care and do what I choose without any real fear of consequence because. . .well, its not really me. I mean, it is me. I’m the one doing it, but the internet doesn’t know that (i think) and even if it did, I very rarely if ever do anything illegal or bad enough to warrant some policeman to drive all the way out here to extradite me to the US of A because if that did happen, I would just sulk my out of any argument they wish to put in front of.

So take THAT F.B.I.

And it’s amazing how little spam I get in my email.

In conclusion: I am an idiot. I know nothing other than I guess we’ll call it draw. I win in the anonymity stakes and the internet shows me just how much of a pointless battle it is because nobody was even watching, not even a spambot.

HA-HA! Screw you guys - I can lick my own balls!!

*ps – if anyone from the F.B.I. or C.I.A or Mossad or MI6 is reading this for any reason... that was just a joke y’know... don’t shoot me or anything... thanks.