Keff

Ok, “normal” service is being resumed. For today at least. I would also, just for the record, like to thank Anna of Little Red Boat for being the main cause of my adopting the word “keff” as an alternative to various other epithets, including “fuck”, “bugger” and “cunt”. Keff is the d4d™ equivalent of Scary‘s “Twunt!” (and that mug is going to be great in the office) – and of course sometimes there’s nowt better than calling someone a Keffing Twunt.

Announcement

Missing.

One will to live. It’s been under a bit of stress lately, and the final straw appears to have been the resizing/cropping and editing of 500 images.

If found, please return to Lyle, c/o d4d™.

Thanks.

UPDATE : Gordon found it

Sweary Mode in 5.. 4.. 3..

According to Vodkabird, this week is National Customer Satisfaction Week. You’d never guess it, if you had to deal with B Keffing T. (Yes, it’s another in that series…).

The brief precis of what’s happened.

  A week ago Monday, BT were supposed to connect me back on to ADSL after three weeks on two baked bean tins and a length of string a 56k dial-up. The ADSL modem’s sat on the shelf, powered up, waiting to be connected. And waiting. And waiting. The connection doesn’t happen. So I ring BT, and try to find out what’s happening.

“It’s connected. We’ve got it on the system that it was connected and completed.”
“Guess again. The modem’s ADSL light is flashing, saying it can’t find ADSL at all“
“Oh. Ah – our system says you ordered the connection, then cancelled it again. So it’s on the system as completed.“
“Eh?“

Turns out that (hold me before I collapse in shock) their system can’t handle a request to change suppliers – which is what I was doing. If I’d stayed with the same supplier, allegedly it would’ve been easy. Anyway, Tuesday passes, still no connection. Wednesday ditto, although of course it was the day of THAT call. After that I was so furious I left it ’til Saturday, when I had all morning to fulminate, if necessary.

Saturday

90 minutes of talking to BT retards, who can only follow a script through the problem. Highlights…

“Well, our system says you’re connected, and were connected on Wednesday“
“Trust me, it’s not. I’ve tried it on three different ADSL modems, on two different PCs, and none of them are finding ADSL“
“Well, our system says it’s connected“
“Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr“
…
“Have you checked your ADSL connection at a friend’s house?”
“Um, how the *pause* will that tell you whether the connection at my house is keffed?“
“I don’t know. It’s just another step on the script I’ve got to go through before we can report it as a fault“
“Ok then, <lie>Yes, I’ve taken it round to a friends, and the ADSL works there</lie>“
…
“Well, we’ve been through all of my script, there’s nothing else, you’ll have to call our technical faults people and see what they say.“
“Naff off, I’m on this call, and I’m not letting it release until this problem is sorted. Let me speak to your supervisor. Now, please“
3 minutes later
“Ok, sir, we’ll put you through to Technical Faults, and stay on the line so we can hear what’s being said“
“Fine“
“Technical faults. [5 minute blah repeating the problem] Oh yes, our system’s saying you’re not connected.
*first customer services person*”What? Our system says it’s connected.”
“Nope, definitely not been done.”
*first customer services person*”Oh. Shit“

Two hours later it was connected.

Last night

Finally, perfection in action.

(on answerphone)
“Hello, Mr Lyle, this is BT Broadband Faults Department. We’re calling to see if you still have a fault on your line”

Is it me, or shouldn’t it be them that know if there’s a fault on my bloody line?

As pointed out by Peter, you’re right, this isn’t actually a very sweary post. I never got to the point of exploding at them – purely and simply because the poor gonk I was on the phone to would’ve simply curled up and cried, and would’ve done chuff all else of use. When it comes to B Focking T, I want to curse and use lots of interesting words and spur-of-the-moment offensive expressions, but at the same time I don’t necessarily want it to be like Tourettes for Dummies. Well, not all the time, anyway. *Grin*

Once Upon A Time In Mexico

Robert Rodriguez directing the last in his El Mariachi trilogy, “Once upon a time in Mexico” – how could I resist? Antonio Banderas reprising his role, along with Jonny Depp, Willem Dafoe, Mickey Rourke, and Danny Trejo, as well as the potential for Enrique Iglesias to do a Jon Bon Jovi and get shot before the end of the film. Unmissable.

And yes, it’s enjoyable. Thoroughly enjoyable. Not quite as slammed together as it’s predecessors, ’92’s El Mariachi and ’95’s Desperado, but still majorly fun. Jonny Depp appears to be undergoing a real renaissance, which is definitely no bad thing as far as I’m concerned. Willem Dafoe has still cornered the market in looking evil and being bad. Mickey Rourke is impressive – to my eyes he looks one hell of a lot better than he used to in the 80s – although I acknowledge I’ve got lousy taste and still love “Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man” – he’s looking more relaxed and, well, lived in. I’ve no idea what Danny Trejo did in his life before acting, but god, he’s got some scars – and I love seeing him on film.

So all in all, even without the rest of it, we’re talking about a film full of eye-candy. There’s a story-line of sorts, there’s plenty of set-pieces, and it’s just utterly fun. More double-crosses than a Mission:Improbable film, and visually stylish as hell. Totally enjoyable – just don’t expect high-art, or anything with the same excesses as Desperado. It’s a more introspective film, with a brain and a heart – it’s got passion, rather than testosterone. And fair play to it in that respect – it would’ve been far easier to simply make Desperado 3, but that hasn’t been done. Well worth seeing.

Not quite taking the piss

On a completely non-blog-related subject, I’ve just had to laugh at the news about Linda Robson has apparently been mugged for – um – her dog shit. Priceless.

Manifesto

Fark – I’ve no idea what would go on this. In relation to Zoe’s popularity contest, it appears that Peter has already written his manifesto. Apparently I need to write one too. OK – here goes…

• All umbrella owners/users must have a certificate of proficiency before opening the bastards. Anyone who uses one without a licence should expect to have it shoved up their arse. And then opened.
• Anyone who walks past wittering inanities should expect to be punched. This is not assault, it is justified. Particularly heavy beatings will be permissible upon expressions such as “Smile, it might never happen”, “that Diet Coke’s bad for you, you know” (Yeah, and so is being a fucktard. *Boot*)
• Before typing text messages into phones while on the move, people should first learn to walk in straight lines, and be aware of the people around them.
• Public transport should be made efficient, cost-effective (for the user, not for the shareholder), and run on time.
• Prime Ministers and all high levels of UK government should be forced to spend at least one week a month in public stocks and pillories. Rotten eggs and vegetables will be supplied at no extra cost.

and the absolute winner…

• Christmas gubbins should only be allowed onto shop shelves etc. from December 1st until December 26th. No other times are acceptable. If you want to make it a shorter timespan, that’s even better – but no longer than the 26 days.

Popularity

Oh dear lord. As if it wasn’t enough stress this week to be guest-blogging and thinking up stuff for two sites (as well as helping qB fix the site when she buggers it up with naffing tables!), now that evil Belgian wench Zoe (My Boyfriend Is A Twat) has put me head-to-head against Peter (Naked Blog) in this week’s edition of her current blogger popularity contest. At this rate I’ll be a wreck by Sunday.

Still, at least the hits are ramping up again. Not that I’m some log-checking hits-whore at all. Oh no. Content is king here, honest. No, really, it is.

And at least it wasn’t me who whacked a giant golden knob onto Mike’s site. *Sigh* Some people, no sense of propriety.