Week 197, The cusp of 90K

Here we are at the heady, 88,999 mile mark.

A Nazi being pursued by the forces of law and order, exactly as it should be.*

Time to weigh it in.

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* 88 is a hate symbol used by right-wingers.

Week 196, Not letting the grass grow

The work on Firth House - a listed Georgian building on Wilkinson Street, Sheffield, once owned by Mark Firth the Victorian steel tycoon - is cracking on a-pace.

Over the last two years there have been, on average, almost yearly deliveries of builders supplies - specifically a batch of breeze blocks and a large bag of building sand, delivered two years ago, on the same day.

At this rate by the turn of the next century millennium the building may be in tip-top condition.

Keep up the good work chaps!*

The grass certainly isn't growing under their feet.**

For official/internal use only:

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* They will almost invariably be chaps, and the slow work is almost certainly the responsibility of whoever owns the place who has given up.
** If you haven't spotted the bag of sand then look at it now, that's the joke - over-explaining in the manner of Take a Break or similar publications...

Week 195, Spinward, Rimward, Coreward, Trailing

"This is Free Trader Beowulf, calling anyone...

Mayday, Mayday..."*

...

We will not make the leap to the stars.

Interstellar travel will not become as common as international travel is today.

But we can still travel the universe in our dreams.

For official/internal use only:

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* Traveller™ Science-Fiction Adventure in the Far Future

Week 194, Exactly what it was

Although what it actually was is lost in the mist of time.

It could be Multiplan.

It could be PC-Write.

It could be dBase.

It could be a variety of things.

However, after thirty years it may not be verbatim.*

For official/internal use only:

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* Although who knows, without some sort of reading device...

Week 193, Cone but not forgotten

This was the scene on Northumberland Road a few days ago.

Now the road is back to normal, with cars parked along the entire length unhindered.

But still I remember it.*

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* I had to wake very early and block a load of traffic, a lot of work for a cheap pun, but worth it I feel.

Week 192, VMUG

Virtual Machines.

That's my reusable bag.*

Man.**

For official/internal use only:

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* Taking advantage of five (5) plus decades of slang.
** In the argot.

Week 191, The Tattooed Hand

Across the great expanse of porkpie hats Holmes stared with an expression of abject horror. Far be it from him to be effusive on any subject beyond his own realm of experience, and Ska was not high up on that list, but this was a scene he would not readily speak of again for some time.

Here Homes was, now being offered a drink of something called 'lager' yet that which was in possession of a foaming head and a warmth somehow reminiscent of the process of micturition. An unprepossessing cordial. Holmes put his own feelings out of the picture and engaged with the vulgar liquid with an air of great relish. The porkpie hats, despite the previous indication presented by their dress and appearance, proceeded to laugh with an hitherto unrecognised hysteria. It became apparent to Holmes that there was some humour being enjoyed at his expense. Holmes maintained a silence and grimness of aspect despite this tawdry provocation.

One of the porkpie hats offered to make up for this singular and disagreable instance by purchasing a 'chaser' for Holmes. Holmes would not hear of it and disconnected from the engagement, for at that moment his eyes alighted on the subject matter of his search.

The tattooed hand.*

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* Honestly, what do you want for free? Eh? EH?

Week 190, Living it up royally

Booze, I expect, that must be on the list.

A bejewelled hat worn at a jaunty angle.

An innate sense of superiority and confidence borne out of the expectation that the world really does owe you a living.

Legal high - or illegal high that is of course 'not', what with it being excused for you in some way, "pressure of command".

More booze, always the more booze ethic.

Rolling in at dawn, unless you are the actual monarch.

Means never having to say you're sorry.

A moment of leaping around that leads to healthy blood pressure, if somewhat heightened heart rate.*

For official/internal use only:

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* If any of this has inadvertently made any sense please feel free to lodge a complaint with your local Fount of Justice.