Another pic update

Dirty bishop

After even more motherly pressure, I have chage my image to: DEER STALKER

Just when you thought my blog was getting a little blue...

Meet Jane, She works with me.

http://jjjane.blogspot.com/

A.patella update

Today my knee is mostly ACHING

Power of the blog. BT wrote to me minutes after blogging

With this... It's a shallow win.

Our records show that you have an outstanding enquiry with BT's e-Customer Services team.

We are currently experiencing exceptionally high volumes of emails, hence the extended delay in responding to your enquiry. Please accept our sincere apologies for any inconvenience caused.

While waiting you may have called us to discuss your enquiry, or found what you need on BT.com and no longer require an email response. If however, you still do require assistance, please let us know by replying with 'Please Action Urgently' on the Subject line.

If you do still need our help, please be reassured that we have increased the number of customer services advisors working on email enquiries and will be in touch as soon as possible.

Thank you for your patience during these extremely busy times.

Sincerely
BT eCustomer Services team

British Telecom = Bad Time

I have been trying to upgrade my broadband with BT’s free upgrade to 8mb, having made several hundred call (about 3 actually!) over the past month I have still had no luck! Given that I have only been a client of theirs since I was 19 years old I clearly have not earned the right to any attention for being a valuable and trusted customer.

Bad news is… I have not even a sarcy mail like this gets their attention.

Good news is… I will have a new provider in a couple of weeks and BT can go shove themselves.


Can you please assist me? After trying to upgrade my broadband line speed to the potential of 3 mbps by calling your helpline and scouring this totally unusable website I find that rather than getting higher bit rate I have got higher blood pressure!

I am at the point now that the only option available to me to attain higher bit rate is to cancel my contracts with BT and move to a provider who is happy to speak with me and place me on a package I require there and then without me needing to spend mindless hours circumnavigating thier corporate website!

FYI I have a BT modem with line speed capability of 4mbps so all I need is someone to tappity tap into their computer there and make my line squeeze a bit more oomph down that twisted pair!

I don’t want a new modem, I don’t want free wifi minutes, I don’t want Norton internet security and I don’t want any other “freebes” that BT might think are cool but a complete waste of my time. I just want quicker broadband as promised in your glitzy messaging?

So can you either:

Make it happen, phone number below and promises of complete delight and furtherance of loyalty?

- or -

Tell me in plain English how I can make it happen, diagrams links and remote tutorial appreciated if I am to use my arch-nemesis bt.com again

- Potentially -

Tell me who I speak to about cancelling my contract and moving to someone less boring instead?

An answer to any of those will be acceptable as long as I GET quicker broadband!


Yours most annoyingly

James


PS this form this is a waste of space too - when it errors - which it does more often than not - you have to retype the whole message! BT what happened to your "customer service" that differentiated you?

PPS doesn’t that man who does your ad off My Family look old these days?

A.patella update

Today my knee is mostly THROBBING.

The story of Captain Hilda and the Missing Tsing Tao.

My darling boy Kris and I went out for another little meal on Sunday, yesterday in fact with my friend Philip (Her Ladyship Pippa Bancroft of Rimmostly) and his other half Ali. This meal was a sort of making up dinner in fact. Both Kris and I had a pretty stressful day on Saturday when I met the in laws for the first time.

Look ! No gratuitous mother in law jokes – not one (well not yet anyhow!).

Kris and I had a good day in fact on the Saturday with his mom and pop and we’d sort of made up an argument in the taxi home. Nearly as bad as the totally irrelevant and completely made up Deal or No Deal argument we engineered one evening (obviously bored) that I may write about in future. So being both feisty when it comes to arguments and both enjoying any chance to wave our arms, sulk and generally behave like prissy girls or hardened drama queens we had a very heated discussion in the cab.

When we got home, I paid the cab driver who was shaking! Our words must have been stronger than this chaps constitution. No sooner had the door clicked shut he’d sped off; wheels spinning in a plume of smoke form the recently incinerated tyres!

Drivers window down “your both f**king crazy” screams the driver as he negotiates a rather tricky pothole and 50 miles and hour.

I set about getting into the house and finishing the argument in a gentlemanly manner. In second thoughts, f**k it I thought and headed off to bed for some peace and quiet. Being grown up about these things I of course decided not to sleep with “it” and headed of to randomly fall into one of our 4 spare beds.

What was funny about this initiative I found out the following morning was that Kris had exactly the same petulant scheme and he’d also randomly found a spare pit to collapse into! The argument was so bad nether of us could bring ourselves to sleep in our bed!

What a pair of Premadonna’s eh!? (ed – is that how you spell that, Suze, where are you when I need you?)

Anyway no damage done, well no damage bad enough a nicely turned out bacon sarnie wafted under ones nose at 9.30 couldn’t remedy!

Anyway back to the real thread here, Captain Hilda.

Phil, Ali, Kris and myself headed off to town after spending the afternoon downing lager, eating peanuts and planning eventualities for our soon to arrive holiday. Having travelled with me before and knowing how I jinx every holiday Kris and Philip are taking no chances this time so we have planned in triplicate our routes to tropical paradise in the far east. So far the holiday seems to be pretty much going well, that’s of course if you are able to discount the Military Coup, the fact that the airline spelt all our names incorrectly and nigh on cancelled the whole trip and that Ali is not that fond of curry we're onto a winner!

So we are in the cab and we get on to the discussion of names – this being a core part of the problems to date with our booking. Pippa (her ladyship) was telling us an amusing story about a locum Registrar from India who’s doing the rounds in MRI. Philip sets about describe the exchange over a rather complicated extracorporeal renal procedure

“Philip” she says to him, “your surname sounds so regal, are you aristocracy, or are you a Lord perhaps?” Philip quite proud of this moment was shot down in flames by one of my passing comments.

“Lord!” I holler “Gaylord more like!”

He didn’t laugh rather gave me one of his trademark frowns.

However the cab drive thought it was pretty amusing missing the red light through the hilarity of the moment. Another of my lives shaved off as we slalomed around the stagecoach bus and roadwork’s as we continued to raced into town as if that reg light incident really hadn't just happened.

Philip ended the story there, either becuase of my sarccy ass comment or through fear of the white knuckle taxi ride.

Precipitously we arrive in town for a quick sortie and reconnaissance mission down Anal Treet enjoying the luxuries of EDEN, THOMPSON’S and almost HOLLYWOOD’S before we head off to my favourite of Chinese restaurants LITTLE YANG SING for some Dim Sum.

It is important to note here that about ¾ hour before going out Kris and I had in fact devoured a good portion of Rolled and Stuffed Lamb, Mangetout, Quince Jelly with chips and gravy (ooh and the mandatory 3 rounds of Warburton’s with Cornish Salted butter) so we really didn’t need to eat (makes a change from the previous Sunday I guess!) but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Anyway we arrive as LYS and as always they were excellent – they have their own unique style do LYS. They have impeccable service but are real Nazis when it comes to you helping yourself.

Let me give you an example of their level of fascism. Their RICE FASCISM is like no others. If you try, and I recommend you clear those thoughts of helping oneself to rice from the rice bowl that sits right next to you and plonk it in the exact measure you want into your own bowl then you’d better be prepared for the consequences! I tried it once, once is enough; I had about 3 waiters congregate around me. Jesus I thought, this is the end of my life, they are going to kill me. So 3 waiters, all vying to do the rice duty wafting menacingly the serving spoons when arrives on scene the big cheese Warren Yeueng who immediately blasts each of the waiters in turn for their "slap happy" approach to service and barks at them to pay more attention.

He did such a good job of publically belittling these poor bastards that I felt compelled to apologise for the situation. LOL. So rather than the nice dainty little spoonful I had intended to deposite in my bowl scoop after scoop of rice is pilled lovingly in my bowl by a recently chastised waiter. I didn’t have the heart to say “when” and let him carry on doing his duty!

Back to the story here again!

We arrive and we are greeted as normal and taken through to our normal table just under the air conditioner, they offer to take our jackets as normal and we plumb to keep them to save us from a certain chill as normal. Then Captain Hilda arrives, seriously this was her name as prescribed by the tag nestled contentedly on here bosom. Her real name is Xi Xi (Zee Zee) but appraranty thats too diffucult for us Mancunians. I have no idea why she's a captain, i was a little embarrased to ask.

She’s says “Wha yer waaan”

I order 2 Chinese beer for me, Pippa plumbs for one as does Kris and Ali sticks on the coke (economy drive). We eagerly await our Tsing Tao imported beer from China, probably Chinas greatest export (after printing, fireworks, medicine, the compass, the wheelbarrow, spaghetti, the rudder, iron casting, the abacus, anaesthetic, money, you get the point) which quite frankly is the highlight after the food on any visit to LYS.

Horror of horrors!!!

Our beer arrives - opened - its not our trusty friend Tsing Tao but an impostor “Quim May: Born in Beijing” (brewed in Burnley) NO! This won’t do at all!

Even after my first swig of Quim I know that that tangy aftertaste is not for me. Remember old donkey bollocks here order two of the charlatan drinks and its rancid but I just don't have it in me to waste beer. So as I am forcing my Quim down I have managed to get myself a comment card and a pen of the table next door to me and wrote a constructive criticism from the table and signed it Kris James Auld.

It read along the lines of “I have tried tonight and found not to like Quim I suggest you go back to the gold old days when you could count on it feeling good in the mouth. Bring back Tsing Tao. Ta. X”

When writing my suggestion I was hoping to appeal to Warren Yeuengs creative centres.

Any how Captain Hilda comes to take our food order and I hand her the note, we order and off she scurries. My cunning stunt worked a treat – Hilda took it upon herself to wander down to the Wang King supermarket and buy a bunch of Tsing Tao to be served exclusively to the table that has so much issue doing Quim.

Result.

Random sex toys extra....

Well I have been literally overwhelmed by the responses to the random sex toys posted earlier in the day expanding the library of random and slightly freakish sex toys. So here's the highlights of that one mail.

The accomodator
For the thoughtful man who likes to take a lass to the heights of erotic ecstasy. Makes a change from seeing it on his forehead I'd guess.
Inches: 9.5

A snip at $38.98 - feel that quality

Things you shouldn’t say to James

With a marketing manager of a partner company stood urinating in the gents of a Soho Club suggesting we might hold an joint event in the club.

“Do you want to hold it here?”

What's a chap to say?

Celebrity A.patella

Johnny Wilkinson has hurt his knee

Bipolar disorder

Until recently I thought that Bipolar disorder was some casual artic mammal-on-mammal action during those long winter nights but it seems that it is not the case. Thanks to our modern day Oscar Wilde, her holiness Steven Fry (top man!) I am now both educated of the disorder and convinced I have it.

Well I mostly have it…. I show all the signs of mania, pretty much all of the time but without the aggravation of acute clinical depression at all.

This is the list of mania symptoms – do I have mania?

* elation
* short temper
* changing from short temper to elation and back again very quickly
* overactivity
* being easily distracted
* not sleeping
* overeating
* increase in sexual desire
* moving very quickly from topic to topic in conversation, making it very difficult for others to keep up
* speaking so quickly that it's difficult to understand all the words being said
* having very grandiose ideas

Oh shit… I’m a through and through maniac

This is the list of symptoms of depression.

* Sorry I don’t think I have the energy to put them here. You wouldn’t read them if I did anyhow.

Ed – I think this might be a paranoia joke rather than depression? Complaints on a postcard please to Steven Fry.

Apparently I also have a penchant to murder; this is according to my hairdresser who is aptly qualified to make such a diagnosis based on either: that he’s a third year Psychotherapy undergrad who knows about such things – or - maybe it stems back to last time he got my colour wrong? I had him scissors to throat threatening to douse him in BARBICIDE setting light to his limp and lifeless carcass? You decide.

Maybe I should take down the sign on my desk that says “you don’t need to be mad to work here, but it helps”?

Modus operandi

He went that way….

A.patella update

Today my knee is mostly SORE.

Oh blimey – its a thought for the day

In life, two wrongs never make a right – but three lefts do.

Things you shouldn’t say to James

A previous line manager commenting on our CEO’s aggressive driving style in his new Lexus Rx 350 SUV.

“I turned around and all I could see was this big black thing coming up my ass”

Nice.

Other random sex toys I came across in pursuit of Blow Job Pads

The Driller Killer F**k machine
Ideal for those who have no friends and very long arms.
Cyclic rate: 30 - 250 revs per minute.

bargain @ £499.99

The Humilator
Basil's cousin - a bog brush on a gag?
Amazing value at $149.98
Bristles: 1255, Best Nylon

A.patella – diary of an injured body.

So none of you will know that I am injured (well there are some that will, like everyone I have told I'm not allergic to flowers btw!). I have a significant injury to ones knee, the right one in fact. That whole leg incidentally has had a rough time of it in past years.

Leg bashing history:

1983: Aged 7. Incident with Interflora van. Ankle and Shin smashed/crushed/puncture wounds requiring surgery and 10 weeks in plaster

1988: Aged 12. Incident with tree and iron railings. Old monkey boy here decides to free fall from his favoritete oak onto iron railings. Iron railing in at base of knee, out at top of knee. Required fire brigade, small operation and some stitches

1990: Aged 14. Incident with long jump. Running up the long jump runway I decided to hurl my self over and get a spear like (at least 3 ft long) piece of timber from the runway sides stuck under my knee cap (about and inch deep). Required the school nurse to remove the offending splinter, ambulance after passing out, small operation and some more stitches

1992: Aged 16. Verruca

The most recent injury acquired shortly after my 30th was jovially put down as Crepitus. According to the medical dictionary Crepitus [\CreI"i*tus\ (kr?p"?-t?s), n. [L., fr. crepare to crack.] (Med.)] has two meanings:

1. A large fart (The noise produced by a sudden discharge of wind from the bowels.)

2. Busted joints et al (clinical sign, A crinkly, crackling or grating feeling or sound in the joints, skin or lungs. )

Fair play to Dr Quim Mad Woman, the General Practitioner at my local "limp in" centre whose prognosis was so quickly rendered. Given my recent entry into another decade of life AND therefore was no doubt ready for the knackers yard I simply must be suffering from the symptoms of decrepitness (old age) which seemed pretty reasonable at the time.

Sadly, if she had read the same medical dictionary as I have done recently she would have worked out that there was one small flaw in her original prognosis - extreme pain. I find it funny that she failed to notice that one.

Fortunately, my proper GP, Dr Body, is a wiser man. After a week of hobbling around in excruciating pain my emergency appointment arrived. (I think they over book these emergency appointments a week in advance hoping the natural attrition will be just enough to kill off the majority thus not having to have tinconveniencence of too much of a crowd in the waiting room)

I limped into Dr Body's office making fitting "ooh's" and "aaah's" rubbing my knee as I did so.

He asked, "So what's wrong with you?"

"Give me strength!" I thought to myself "you are a Dr. are you not?"

"I't's my head doctor!" I said, "It thinks my knee is bad?!"

He didn't laugh. Instead, he sits me down, then strips me, prods a bit and proclaims waving hands officiously

"Yes!" he pauses "Yes, Yes! Its your knee it's not well is it?"

He's a real Genius this guy and I'm obiously in safe hands :…

"I need to refer you to secondary care"

"Better still your majesty; can I not just go private?"

too which he replied "Of course, ill get on to it immediately"

A week later I get my referral letter to Mr Paul Orthopaedic Registrar and MANCHESTER BUPA. So I'm sat in his office and he reads the letter from Dr Body.

"An injury sustained at Mardi Gras?" Mr Paul says reading the letter aloud "how do you think you managed that?" he enquires

"Well" I say "I have spent nearly 30 years on my knees"

"A ha yes!" says Mr Paul looking quickly back at the letter and tapping his temple.

So to cut a long story short (too late) after some prodding, X-rays, even more prodding, MRI scans and even more prodding still Mr Paul confidently states "Well Mr Sharpe you'll be glad to hear I have absolutely no idea what's wrong with you."

Best £1,200 I've ever spent.

In fairness he has some idea but he’s keeping his cards obviously cloe to his chest ;) So his cunning plan, is to torture me medieval style with 6 weeks of intense Physiotherapy to either as he puts it "aggravate it until I can see the damage on the scan or it gets better"

Incidentally he's saying this he's shaking my hand and already pushing me out the door in preparation for another £170 four minute slot with another willing victim, erm patient. So much for patient care - here's looking forward to Physio.

Now this knee thing is a tad aggravating, in the sense that it precludes you from doing things, like working properly and relaxing. Gladly there are clever people out there who think about these things and I have been able to pick up courtey of ROB [ http://www.rob.nl ] - at the mint price of £22.00 a pair - "Blowjob Pads."

Ordered them I did, online they were, they arrived and I eagerly tore at the wrapping to find knee protectors that one might buy for £4.00 a pair at your local DIY store; what's more depressing is that they aren't even comfy - they chafe.

Just goes to show men are always driven by the dicks! grrr

Pearls of wisdom

An introductory email I sent to a relationship manager of a sports club recently.

“we are a digital communications company – in lay mans speak it means we build highly effective consumer focused digital experiences for our clients who have a interest in integrated communications strategies and revenue generation online”

Oh deary deary deary me - pah!

Things you shouldn’t say to James

The UK MD of a Content Management Company with reference to availability of a Dutch executive to visit our offices said:


“What time do you want him internally?”

Mother says put a nice picture up.

Ok, thanks to Suze for scanning, this is the real me. Everyone happy now.

x

Hurrah... It's a thought of the day....

Have standards - but never raise them for anybody.

Pearls of Wisdom

OK, Bush has his "Bushisms", Rumsfiled has his "Pieces of Intelligence", Prescot has his "Pies" (very plural that one) so I have decided I should have my "Pearls of Wisdom"

These are actual pearls taken from executive summaries authored by oneself.

Hope you enjoy them and the smell that comes with them.

x

On the use of interactivity in communications: For Careers Wales Association June 2006 I wrote.

"Interactivity to us is more about edutainment than gimmick"

enough said.