I am typing this while BT have me on hold to their complaints department. I am getting angrier and angrier. I want to gather a band of men and storm their castle. I want to deface BT. If I have to have no broadband for a while, so be it. BT are going to be really sorry.
Sorry. Here is the post I planned to type.
A while ago I decided to stop working at the library all the time. For one day in the week I would stay at home and work on my novel instead.
So far, here are the sorts of things I have done on my special, expensive writing days.
1. piss about
2. buy things
3. rearrange cacti in order of tallness
4. rearrange cacti in order of fatness
5. play with facebook
6. check to see if the off licence is open
7. feed cat
I am still on hold to BT. They are playing me Peer Gynt. I want to do hari kiri.
8. make soup
9. listen to the building work being done next door
10. take erotic photographs of my desk, pencil holder and bookcase
11. go to the off licence
The situation is getting dire. I am becoming an embarrassment. I am a poor performer. A low achiever. The word count graph and submissions spreadsheets are badly indexed catalogues of shame.
(I wasn't on hold for a bit just then. I was talking to some real people. They transferred me a few times. They are annoyed with me because I have two different account numbers. I don't want to pay twice though. BT are incompetent. I let them know that. I haven't sworn yet.)
I have decided the problem with writing performance is that I don't have a boss. I need a boss. I need supervision and a weekly review. So. I will be my own boss. I will do a performance appraisal every Wednesday. If my performance is substandard I will administer sanctions.
This picture of me is of the only time when I was ever properly happy. Notice I am wearing my nice brown writing cardigan, and I am also in the presence of big cacti. The picture at the top is of lots of LITHOPS or Living Stones. They aren't cacti but they are just as good. I have lots of them. The make me as happy as I am in this picture. I take care of them. Some of them are called Paul and Greg.
(I've just sworn at a BT man. He was called Jamie. Jamie, it is not personal. Please do something more respectable for a living. You sound like a nice guy. BT are not nice. Come and live with me for free until we can storm the BT castle and find you a different, better job. I am sorry Jamie.)
If I fail to perform with word count and novel I am going to throw away my LITHOPS. One by one I will destroy them. I will chuck them in the bin, but stamp on them first so I can't get them out again afterwards. I will probably cry.
I know it seems harsh, but my idleness is getting beyond a joke. Seriously.
I am no longer on hold to BT. I have cancelled my account with them. They said I have to pay lots of money to do that, and that I won't have any more tinterwebs after the 3rd of November. I am going to refuse to pay the extra money. They might send me to jail. LITHOPS won't be a problem then, I suppose.
Free the Preston One!
Joie de vivre
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When I am prime minister, dear reader, every funeral will have dancing.
Thanks to her brilliant and brave daughters, friend Ann (always the life
and soul o...
2 hours ago
I am working on a protest song that will no doubt lead to your freedom should BT get militant. You have my support.
ReplyDeleteThanks Martin. I'm seriously worried now. They say I am in a contract and I have to pay lots of money not to have any more broadband. But they have been billing me twice for two months. I am going to refuse. I will go to prison. I will do a dirty protest. I will write BT You Are Not Beautiful on the walls in poo.
ReplyDeleteThey are going to send me to jail. I am going to wreck my credit rating. I'm never going to be able to get a mortgage.
Please work on the protest song.
You forgot to add shopping with me!
ReplyDeleteThat contract sounds like the devils work. You must get in contact with the nice man who married into the BT family on TV. He more than anyone must know the perils of 'messing' with British Terrorcom. In the last advert his wife was MOST displeased with him leaving his BT hub, and therefore his responsibilities, behind in order to go somewhere else. The song begins with these lyrics
ReplyDelete'It's good to talk,
or so you'd think,
but not with BT,
because they stink.'
Powerful stuff.
I will be your boss if you want.
ReplyDeleteI am a great boss.
pissing about is VITAL
ReplyDeleteBritish telecom is ruled by the ghost of Alexander G Bell. He lives in the telephone line and listens to all the calls, he reads your emails and if you are bad he sends you extra bills and things to piss you off. Speak to Amy about BT, she is plotting some sort of violence against them. Get cable. Send letters and emails to Rohan - Alexander likes that.
ReplyDeleteLittle blue lithops are very cool. They always look to me like a happy version of Audrey II, the talking plant in Little Shop of Horrors.
ReplyDeleteMaking soup is highly productive. I applaud your work. D.H. Lawrence used to write Women In Love on the kitchen table while baking bread. What else are you going to do while your bread sits around for a few hours rising. Baking and writing go well together. And soup is ideal cos it lasts for days, so cuts down on cooking time over the next few days and leaves more time for plonking about.
ReplyDeleteMmm. I hadn't thought of that, but you are right. I think soup is okay. Also casseroles and mashed potato, because you've got to eat.
ReplyDeleteNothing else though. Not even drinking water or going to the toilet.