Great minds think alike
and fools seldom differ. If ever it was apparent that if I think of a joke that means someone's already done it better: Look at this filthy heresy from a funnier person:.
(I refer of course to this)
Posted on: Tuesday, 28th February 2006
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Untitled cliched sci-fi story
I wrote this not very original story a while ago after reading a Robert Heinlein anthology or something, and because I can't be bothered to write anything else I thought I'd post it. It's only about a thousand words so you've got no excuse not to read it. There's no real moral to the story, except, er, don't blow things up?
The plan had gone off without a hitch. Collins had been right; the SatGov officer ruse worked a treat. Besides the unbarred, no questions asked access to all the major areas of the Station, their stolen uniforms had commanded them untold respect from those aboard.
If only they knew, chuckled James to himself, the sheep.
Shuttle 17 ejected from the side of the Station. James and Harrison closed their eyes and braced themselves for the imminent shock wave.
There wasn’t one.
James breathed out. Well, it had almost got off without a hitch. No need to panic though; this doesn’t mean we’ve failed. The beauty of the G-19 was the 3 back-ups on various delays. Once it had been initialised, there was pretty much no way it couldn’t go off. Don’t panic. Remember the breathing exercises.
“We’re headed in the wrong direction.”
“What?” said James.
“We’re headed in the wrong direction. Earth is getting smaller.” Harrison was gazing out of the small portal at the back of the shuttle.
“What do you mean Earth is getting smaller? Where are we heading?”
“You tell me; you’re in the front.”
James looked out of the front. Space. Great. That’s helpful. The shuttle had to be programmed to go somewhere – and standard protocol would make that the nearest planet or station. Which was?
“OK,” commanded James, ”assuming it’s not Earth, where are we likely to be headed?”
“Mars? Station 15?”
“Mars is a week away; it can’t be Mars. And we can’t go to Station 15. Not now.”
So much for SatGov protocol. This messed up the entire rendezvous plan; and there was no way they could send out a signal – Shuttle’s sent only distress signals, and they’d made sure it wouldn’t be doing that. We’re supposed to be heroes by now. More medals than we can carry. Heroes of the rebellion, like in old sight movies.
James closed his eyes for a minute, trying to clear his head. What did the corporation manual say to do in this kind of situation? He couldn’t remember. “What have we go in here in the way of supplies?”
“Well, if they’ve followed protocol, we should have...” Harrison paused as he began to poke around in the small alcove behind him. He turned. “They haven’t followed protocol. We should have 3 days food and water, some vid-chips, suicide pills, a pocket copy of the manual and a New Testament. We actually have...” He stopped for a second, amused; “...a copy of Robinson Crusoe. An old paperback as well, probably antique. We could make a bit of cash from this when we get home.” He grinned.
Not funny.
“You checked that no transmissions were intercepted, right?”
“Yes. I told you. No word from inside, plus full tera-bit encryption. I remember doing it.”
“Once shuttles are launched, you can’t change their co-ordinates?”
“I don’t think so, but like I said, I don’t have a copy of the manual here. This is like a magical mystery tour, isn’t it?”
So, there was no word from the inside. That’s only helpful if our inside contact hasn’t betrayed us, thought James, but Collins has got too much to lose to do that. But then again, didn’t I? Someone knew. They knew our plan, and more importantly, they knew which Escape Shuttle we were going to be in.
Harrison was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt nonchalantly.
I hate you, thought James, I bet it was you. You don’t care at all. You don’t have a wife and kids, three dogs and a mortgage. Nobody even likes you. You’ve nothing to live for, so you sold out didn’t you? We’re going to end up on Station 15, and I’m going to get put in a Class 14 Punishment and Behavioural Realignment Centre – and that’s if I’m lucky. Harrison - the betrayer, the horrific, sickening traitor, meanwhile will probably get full Citizenship Rights and a gold watch.
As James glared at his shipmate he caught a glimpse out the back window. The Earth was very far away now; only it’s faint blue glow distinguished it from the myriad of space junk and asteroids. They were still accelerating.
“We aren’t heading anywhere, are we?” Harrison suddenly said.
“What?”
“We’re heading nowhere. Someone knew we were coming, de-fused the bomb and reprogrammed this escape capsule to just go.”
A feeling of empty horror enveloped James. He wanted to be sick. Suddenly 15 years of Class 14 didn’t seem so bad. “No... no. We could still be going to Station 15 – or even Mars.. ”
“No, James – look at the position of the stars. The Stations are in a parallel orbit with Earth. There isn’t anything that way.”
For the first time since he had known him, James could see that Harrison was afraid. “Harrison?”
“Yes?”
“Read me that book.”
Posted on: Monday, 27th February 2006
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Poster coolness link
Film Posters in Poland are far, far cooler than any you get round here...
Posted on: Tuesday, 21st February 2006
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I did some work
First off, for those who read my last entry: Judging by the amount, I got cards from pretty much everyone I've ever met, which is great because it saves me time guessing who they're from. Thanks for the card.
One of the joys of temping is that you just never know what's going to happen. One day you could be transcribing letters for some lazy lawyers, the next you could be feeding elephants in someone's private zoo. It's that exciting.
On Wednesday morning I got a phone call from the agency telling me that they had a job for me that very day down at the Leicester Royal Infirmary. Unable to control my excitement I crawled out of bed and made my way to LRI to have a fun and busy day moving medical records around in a shopping trolley from a scary warehouse type room in one building to a creepy, dingy cellar (the "dungeon") in another. Trolleys aren't designed for uneven surfaces (or going around corners, apparently) so it took me a while to master it. It didn't help that I was wearing completly the wrong shoes for the task (I don't think my smart shoes are designed for walking or standing) so soon my feet hurt.
One of my colleagues was talking to me about music he liked and I'm pretty sure he was making it all up ("Oh yeah, I like Goat Rabies. You have heard of them right? They sound like Chainsaw Masochist crossed with Dying House". Are these band names or descriptions?). Anyway, when we were sorting the files we realised he'd put the wrong codes in or something so we had to go through them all again which was good fun.
It's really satisfying to know that I've just three days of work. I'm sure that before long I'll be moaning about it though. If that happens, remind me I just said this.
Posted on: Saturday, 18th February 2006
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Valentine's Day: Not very good
Looking through my (sparse) diary has reminded me that it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow. Not trying to sound too cynical here, but Valentine’s Day is complete and utter rubbish. It’s supposed to be about love but actually it’s about buying enormous cards and taking people out to dinner – something which, I understand, you can do more cheaply and more quietly on any other day of the year. I would suggest not doing anything on Valentine's Day and instead protesting and throwing eggs and happy people, but perhaps this is why I don't have a girlfriend.
If you don’t have anyone to take out to dinner, then you're supposed to send people you fancy anonymous cards, then, presumably, they look at the card, think “ooh, someone fancies me,” then go and do something else. I mean, really, is that fun? I wouldn’t like the idea that someone liked me and wouldn’t tell me. That’s just stupid. How does that help me or them?
Of course, this isn't much of a problem because I am expecting so many cards that it would be impossible for me to know who they're from (although I can guess that they're actually from everyone I've ever met). Next time I update I'll tell you whether that prediction is true or not.
Also, I’ve updated Mikeynet with Johnny 5’s prison diary.
Posted on: Monday, 13th February 2006
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More things I hate
Anyone who blames social problems on "political correctness"
I can’t help but think it’s because they want to beat their wife and hurl racist insults at the neighbours.
Charity people in the street
Oh, the first time I thought they were being nice. The second time, I was getting suspicious. By the third time, I was giving away all my money and learnt not to be talked at by these scary manipulative Derren-Brown like weirdos. "Oooh nice shoes.... gosh, that is a great haircut... you think children should have safe play areas don’t you? For just the cost of 2 pints a month you can help these children. Let me remind you that I like your shoes." STOP YOUR DIRTY MIND TRICKS AND LEAVE ME ALONE.
People at the job centre
Listen, you people who work at the job centre: I am not scum, stop treating me like I am. You’re the ones who can’t seem to operate a service that makes any sense whatsoever.
Goats
Look at goats, with their sinister beady eyes. There’s a reason why freaky pagans dance around with goat skulls – it’s because goats are evil. They eat pretty much everything as well, so keep them away from children.
Flags
There is never a good time to wave a flag. Not when the Queen is coming, not during an England match, and definitely never ever ever during church. If you have a flag outside your house, take it down now (unless you live in an embassy)
Existentialism
Hmm... life has no meaning. I know, I’ll create meaning by, er, erm, going to the park and looking at the squirrels or something. That will sort things out.
Nihilism
Hmm... life has no meaning. Probably should go back to bed, then. Assuming the bed exists. But it doesn’t really matter whether it does or not.
You
No, I’m joking. You’re lovely.
Posted on: Tuesday, 7th February 2006
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Top Daytime Telly
In my current state of non-employment I get a lot of time to watch television during the day. Most people who aren’t students don’t get such an incredibly opportunity so I’m going to write about my experiences. Think of me as a very lazy Loius Theroux.
The Wright Stuff
Former showbiz columnist for the Sun Matthew “John Leslie” Wright answers your informed calls on stuff like whether parents of truants should go to prison, whether we should bring back hanging and now, with the help of Dr Miriam “Photo Casebook” Stoppard, whether to dump that cheating boyfriend or not. His panellists seem to always consist of Janet Ellis and some rubbish TV reviewer.
Deal or No Deal
Much has been written on the surprise hit that is Deal or No Deal. The object of the game is to guess how much money is in your box by seeing what’s in everyone else’s. All the while, however, host Noel Edmonds tries to convince the contestant that there’s some kind of masterful strategy to it all. There isn’t, Noel, they are guessing random numbers. I am unsure as to whether Noel genuinely believes that there is a strategy behind it, or whether he is a sinister Machiavellian genius. It’s likely to be a bit of both.
Countdown
There is little to write about the televisual institution that is Countdown that has not been written countless times before. You also might think you are knowledgeable about all things Countdown, but you haven’t seen Countdown with Des Lynam, have you? Remember when in Neighbours they replaced Cheryl Stark with an entirely different actress for about 6 episodes and nobody noticed? Or when they swapped Will Smith’s aunt for someone else in the Fresh Prince? It’s like that. It’s the same but not. All the consonants are in the right places, Carol knows her sums, and dictionary corner is still the only place to see the slightly disturbing Gyles Brandreth , but without Richard Whitely it’s like the White House painted orange or Indiana Jones played by Tom Selleck. It’s just not right.
The Daily Politics
I’m not all lowbrow during the day. Sometimes I want to watch some highbrow intellectual political discussion. Sadly, you don’t get it on the Daily Politics where pretty much all that happens of interest is that Andrew “I have 5 other jobs” Neill says increasingly offensive and aggressive things to the other Lib Dem you’ve heard of, Lembit Opik, while grinning like a cheery dictator. This is Neill’s show, and don’t you forget it. They then have a “political forecast” where they say things like “Hmm, dark clouds on the horizon for David Cameron this week...” while terrifying images of the leader of the Tory party float around a map of Britain. In the future, people will think of The Day Today in the same way we think of Brave New World. Not to be confused with The Week which is actually the same programme but on at night.
A programme I can’t remember the name of about houses
“I looked up, and suddenly noticed that my whole ceiling and back wall had disappeared!” Nadia “not Julia” Sawalha presents this entertaining programme about people whose houses have fallen down due to freak accidents like being hit by trucks or planes or something. Each programme contains two stories with recaps every thirty seconds in case we are unable to recall the clearly forgettable fact that A CAR SHOT THROUGH THE SECOND FLOOR WINDOW OF THEIR HOUSE, which are then followed by teasing hints of what is to come (“And Jack has a surprise for his wife...” (he’s found her collection of shoes unharmed in the cellar)). In fact, so much of this programme is taken up by telling you what has just happened and what is going to happen that they could actually get away with not showing it at all and put repeats of Quincy on instead.
Doctors
Man is shown wheezing. Does he have asthma? A heart problem? Emphysema? No! He’s just been jogging. But his ill wife won’t go to the doctor’s because then they might find out she’s been unfaithful with the postman. Meanwhile, a child is aggressive at school. Is it because his over-nice but elusive father beats him? Does he have ADHD? No! He’s beaten by his angry grandmother. Meanwhile, the receptionist’s mysterious ex-husband turns up and Christopher Timothy wrestles a knife-whielding maniac in reception. Actually, I’ve not watched Doctors in years, but I’m sure it’s still pretty much the same. I think they should do a spin-off about dentists. Called Dentists.
Working Lunch
Buy! Sell! Buy! Work! Lunch! Who watches Working Lunch? People who don’t work, apparently. Marvel as the roving presenter is at a bottle factory who have increased profit by 2.8% in a year! Be amazed at today’s share tips! And just what does the future have in store for Marks and Spencers?
Today with Des and Mel
Watching an episode of Des and Mel is a bit like watching paint dry, whilst being simultaneously beaten across the face with a rabid lion and having your toes bitten off. Even the title is vapidly inane. The most mysterious thing is that Des O’Connor seems to believe he is young and calls everyone over 60 an “old dear” despite them actually being half his age. It is possible that Des has retained his youthfulness by being such a dull man that his body got so bored it actually gave up aging. Either that or he sucks the life-force out of each guest who comes on. Not Melanie Sykes, though, since she is a coin-operated robot.
Posted on: Thursday, 2nd February 2006
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