10 things I cannot do - part 2

10 things I can't do. (things 6 to 10)

This is the continuation of the earlier section.

Enjoy! (Or, like me, cringe.)


Watch singing on TV without my throat joining in.

Just so we are clear, I can watch singing on TV without singing along. My singing is awful. In the past, while singing, people have stopped me and offered me painkillers.

What happens is that, when I see a singer on TV, my throat engages and I automatically copy the notes internally, as if I were singing but without the noise. I don't breathe out, or make an effort to be heard, but my throat follows the note involuntarily.

If you watch my neck while I am watching normal telly, it would be motionless. But if you watch my neck while I'm watching a singer on TV, you would see my adams apple bobbing up and down in unison, like a cork in a neck-shaped jar. (No, I've no idea either - my hands just typed it.)

Watching opera hurts.


Knitting

One of the things that I used to do with my girlfriend 15 years ago, (who is now my wife and has been for the last 14 years,) was try to knit. She could knit anything, usually without the need for a pattern. It was second nature to her, like typing is to me. While typing, I can look around and have a conversation with no break in my typing speed. She could do other things while knitting like make a cup of tea or, probably, drive.

She once tried to teach me how to knit. She decided to teach me how to make a 10 x 10 square of "knit." She did the first line on my needles, showing me each step, then she patiently showed me how to attach line two to line one. Then, unfortunately, she let me have a go.

Within 3 minutes with her own needles, she had knitted a perfect square. I had knitted what could be best described as woollen entrails.

I tried again over the following weeks and knitted a variety of things. I managed spaghetti, more entrails, a murder scene and a bowl of noodles without a bowl. They were all supposed to be squares, but all went badly wrong.

I've tried a few times since to get her to teach me again, but she just winces as if the pain returns with the memory.


Yawning without shaking my head left and right.

Years ago I yawned once and my jaw locked open. Since then I am really wary of yawning.

From that point I have always shaken my head while yawning, in an attempt to loosen it while I close my mouth.

It must work, because it hasn't happened since.


Understand txt speak.

I just don't get it. I'm ok with chatroom speak from years ago, like lol and a/s/l (which is going back about 10 years when I was young and able to learn new things) but I don't get modern day txt speak.

It takes me longer to read the shorter words than it does to read the full versions. It takes me even longer still to attempt to type them into my phone, as I can't understand what I'm doing while missing out letters on the fly. I often type the word out in full so I can read it, then have to navigate about to delete vowels and replace ate with an 8, etc.


Resolve misunderstanding by talking, after causing the misunderstanding by talking in the first place.

So this is the final thing I can't do. If I accidentally say something that sounds a little offhand, or could be construed as insulting, I try to immediately rectify it by explaining what I meant. This often leads to me accidentally adding further and further accidental insults, or
digging myself in deeper and deeper, until I get to the point where I want the earth to just open up and deliver me a fiery blast from its molten core, permanently ending the awkwardness I've caused, eliminating mankind in it's entirety, so not one single memory remains of the awful event.

Most people have that cut-off where they realise that the less they say, the quicker the situation will be over and forgotten. But I don't seem to have that. In retrospect I can see where I SHOULD have stopped talking, but at the time I get so concerned that I've said the wrong thing I try to backtrack without thinking everything through, a little too eagerly.

When typing an email, I usually put a lot of thought into everything. I often type something out in full, re-reading and editing it many times before clicking send. With text you get to type it, check it, edit it, check it again and finally send it. There is also often a period of time between it being sent and being read at the other end, during which you could also forward extra things if, after another re-read, you spot things that may need clarifying.

But I don't have this luxury with speech. It just comes out of my mouth and hits peoples ears without allowing that thought period in between.

What is even worse is that when I do it, I can feel the atmosphere change from a happy, friendly one, to an impending follow-me-to-doom one. And yet I'm completely powerless to stop it.

Conversations about womens ages never go well. I take "mature" to mean "grown up", "serious" or "concentrating", but it seems other people take it to mean "old". Trying to get out of a conversation where you've just called a 30-something "old" never ends well.

"I don't mean OLD, I mean you look like you're concentrating like a grown up, with a thoughtful wrinkled forehead...... No, not wrinkles like old people get, you're not OLD old, you've got ages left yet, I just mean you're not as old as me yet are you....... No, I'm not saying you LOOK as old as me, I just mean that on an "old scale" you'd only be half way........"

Age, height, gender, looks, speech, dialect, hair, shoes, clothes, writing..... very little is exempt from my amazing lack of conversational tact. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that ANY conversation that I have outside of my own head has quite a high chance of going the same way as the example one above.

I often wish there was an "end it all now" button I could press mid-conversation.

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My First Tanka Poem

After watching NHK this morning, (Sky channel 516,) I learned about Tanka - the Japanese poetry. I won't go into everything here, but a quick search on wikipedia will tell you everything you need to know about it.

In quick summary, it's a poem that follows similar rules to the haiku (5-7-5 syllables) but the pattern is 5-7-5-7-7. It is considered bad etiquette if the any of the words rhyme, and it is meant to be an inner reflective form of poetry.

Here is my first ever attempt at Tanka.

I stare at the web
Every day for hours I browse
my wife clicks off-switch
I'm spending too long online
Rather lose data than her

Very theraputic to write!

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Quick Matthew Smith FAQ

A couple of months ago I met and interviewed Matthew Smith, creator of 80s computer classics Jet Set Willy and Manic Miner.

(Click to go to original post)

Since then I've received loads of emails asking various questions, so in an attempt to answer the most frequently asked ones, I have created this short post.

How can I get in touch with MS?

I got in touch by searching the Retro Gamer website, and finding a post from a man who was going to interview him. I contacted him and he was kind enough to phone me back, and arrange everything. He was a true gent.

So if he rang you back, can you give me his number because you must have it?

Firstly, no. He was kind enough to reply to me because I got in touch via email initially. He chose to get in touch with me after reading my emailed plea, seeing my website and forming his opinion of the type of person I was. I doubt he'd want any of his details given out so un-vetted strangers can contact him.

Secondly, I honestly no longer have his phone number. He phoned me back initially and left a voicemail. When I got his message, I hit "call" and (stupidly) not "store". I tried my sim in another phone a couple of days later, not realising that all my texts and recent numbers would be lost, so I genuinely no longer have it.

Whats his email address?

No idea! I sent a message via the Private Message service on the Retro Gamer website, so no email addresses were shown. I sent mine to him, and he phoned me back.

I'm sorry I can't help more.

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Saying Hello Too Much

I went shopping on Saturday, and I saw someone that I hadn't seen for years.

I walked up to her and said "HI! How are YOU!?!"

She was equally happy to see me, and said "Fine! How are YOU?!?"

To which I replied "I'm Great! How are YOU?!?"

And she went "yeaaahhhh...... " and tailed off.

So now I look stupid, as I've asked how she was twice in less than 5 seconds. She must have though I wasn't listening to her the first time she said it.

I suppose I may have been making up for lost time.

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Ex Colleague - Danny Nolan

Where I used to work, there was a guy called Danny Nolan.

He looked like a chubby Eric Morcambe, glasses and all, and was quite tall too. He must have weighed around 16 stone.

Anyway, he liked to gamble. He quite often went out on Friday night for a few hours at a casino, but only just made it back to work by Monday morning.

There was also another gambling man at work, called Tom Buller. Tom would have made an excellent game show host. He was in his 50s, and was one of those people who it's a pleasure to have known. A genuinely nice guy.

So a few of us were sat sround at work, chatting. I knew that Danny was a bit skint, so I started making funny bets with him, to give him the chance to make some money while entertaining us by doing daft things.

I bet him a quid that he wouldn't lick Tom Bullers face.

".... a quid?" he asked, interested.

"Yep, if you lick Toms face, I'll give you a quid."

"....nah, not just for a quid." he said, and became disheartened.

Adam joined in, and offered another quid. Then a few more people joined in. Eventually, Danny was faced with winning £8 of money from various people, IF he licked Toms face.

He took up the challenge, we all cheered, and marched off to find Tom.

Tom had just finished talking on the phone, and had no idea what Danny was about to do. Danny walked up to Tom and said...

"Tom?"

"Yes Dan?"

Danny said nothing. He waited a few seconds, then lunged at Tom with his tongue.

"GET OFF!" Tom yelled, fighting to keep Dans tongue off his face, his hands and sleeves. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT FOR?!?"

"They've bet me £8 that I can't lick your face," Danny said, pointing to the group of us behind him.

Tom paused.

"8 quid?........ will you split it 50/50?"

We all went "EWWWWWWWW!", at Toms conditional lick agreement.

Danny agreed, but Tom added the final clause that he must dry his tongue first.

Danny dried his tongue on his tie, then with it slightly protruding, slowly leaned towards Tom. Disturbingly, Tom leaned towards Danny.

It was the most horriffic moment that I witnessed from that year, but Dans tongue and Toms cheek were in direct contact for over 2 seconds, while everyone got a look at the evidence.

Well, he either kept it there so that we could all take turns to see, or he kept it there for different personal reasons, but who am I to judge.

So we all walked back to our desks, and all gave Danny a quid each.

Danny was really happy with his winnings, and I could tell that I had got him into his "I'll do anything for money" mood, so I made one more bet with him.

I said "I bet you that you can't "accidentally" nudge Scottish Garys groin."

"What do you mean? Grab his nuts?"

"No, just.... y'know..... ACCIDENTALLY with the back of your hand knock his tackle. Next time he comes over, just ACCIDENTALLY nudge his knackers with the back of your hand."

Dan thought for a few moments. "......... ok" he eventually agreed.

Later that day. he really did it. I can't fully put into words how funny this accidental nudge thing was, suffice to say that we were all in a comparitively quiet room, and on contact Gary suddenly blurted out a noise that sounded like "BOI."

Luckily, as you may have noticed, for this second bet I didn't actually bet any money. I just made him touch Garys bits for no reason.

Hurrah!

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My Music Teacher - Mr Iddon

One of the funniest things I ever witnessed, although it might lose a little in translation, was in Music with Mr. Iddon.

Before he came in we had the keyboards out, the ones with the little square microphones on the curly wires, and had all been recording saying words into them, so we could play them back at different pitches by using the high and low keys.

Simon Lyon, a friend, had recorded "no" on my keyboard just before Mr. Iddon came into the room. It was great getting my keyboard to say "n,n,no,n,no"

So Mr Iddon finally came into class, and raised his voice above all our noise. "ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY, QUEIT! Everyone sit down!" he bellowed and made his way to his desk.

Everyone instantly fell silent and began to sit down. In the silence as we were sitting, I leant forward to get seated and accidentally caught the lowest key on my keyboard. It was as if a giant had descended from the heavens as the deepest, rumbliest "NNOOOOOOO!" boomed out from my desk.

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Derren Brown

I love reading Derren Browns blog. There is always something interesting there.

Recent posts have included A.I., brain monitoring, parrots, robots that can evolve, and legitimate attacks on alternative medicine. Oddly, very little of it relates to magic or mind reading.

I post quite infrequently, but read it daily.

Just a quick post to mention it really, as I wouldn't want you to miss out!

Derren Browns Blog

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Meeting Matthew Smith

Since being about 8, I've always wanted to meet Matthew Smith. It's like something I've always wanted to do. Not just any Matthew Smith would do, though. It would have to be the one who wrote Manic Miner and Jet Set Willy on the ZX Spectrum.

Yes, THAT Matthew Smith.

That man is responsible for making me into the computer-obsessed guy I am today. If you add together the total hours I must have spent during my youth, playing Manic Miner and Jet Set Willy, you'd be looking at a good few months. I played his games for hour upon hour, every evening and every day during the school summer holidays... He wrote what were, in my opinion, two of the best games on earth.

Over the years, I've managed to interview a few 80s celebs, (Jim Bowen, Gaz Topp, Violet Berlin, Nigel Alderton,) but Matthew Smith is one of those people who is notoriously hard to get in touch with. He doesn't use facebook or twitter. He doesn't have a "contact me" website. In fact, he could well be one of the least easy to find people ever.

In fact, in 1988 he disappeared completely. Having written Styx, Manic Miner and JSW for the spectrum,(and Scrabble on the gameboy color) he completely vanished from the face of the earth.

He reappeared in the UK in 1995, having been deported from Holland where he had spent 7 years working as a bicycle repairman and a factory worker, completely unaware that his absence had been sure a big deal.

I read that he was scheduled to appear at the Urbis in Manchester, as part of their Videogame Nation exhibition. So not only was he making a very rare public appearance, but it was practically on my doorstep! As soon as I found this out, I bought a ticket. Well, actually, I was that excited I bought two tickets. They arrived months ahead of time, and I stored them next to my monitor so I could look at them daily.

I also decided to try to contact him through various means, to see if he would be able to donate a few minutes and take part in a brief interview for 80sNostalgia.com

I sent a message to the editor at Retro Gamer, an email to the Urbis Museum direct, and a message to a forum member on the RetroGamer website who had published photos of how the exhibition was being constructed. I also remember a couple of years ago a different RG member had asked the forum if they had any questions that they would like to put to Matt, as they were going to his house. I searched for the original topic and messaged the original poster.

The message I sent just said something along the lines of...

I'm looking to contact Matthew Smith of Manic Miner fame. I understand that you would be unwilling to give out his contact details to a complete stranger, so instead would you mind forwarding my contact details to him with a quick note asking if he would spare me a few minutes of his time to participate in an interview for 80sNostalgia.com.

My email address is *******
My phone number is *********

Thanks for your time.

I got an email back the next day from a David Crookes, saying that he was the curator of the exhibition. He had no contact details for Matthew Smith himself, but he would forward my email to Paul Drury who was the one bringing him. He also assured me that Paul was a thoroughly nice chap.

I emailed back my thanks, as I was immensely thankful!

A few days later, while I was at work, I noticed I had a missed call. I listened to my answerphone, to hear the following message...

"Hi this is Paul Drury. You've been trying to contact me using a two-pronged attack, via the Retro Gamer website and via David, about how to contact Matthew Smith. I'll be in England for the next week, after which I'm on holiday, so give us a ring back on this number or my landline which is ********* and I'll see what I can do. I won't bore you with where I am going next week.... well, ok I will bore you with it, I'm off to America to meet the guy who invented Simon! Y'know, that memory game with the four beepy colours that you press? How cool is that?!? Er, So, anyway, give me a ring when you're free. Cheers mate,"

I rang him back VERY quickly!

His advice was simple. Come to the Urbis event. At the end of the event, go up to Paul and introduce myself to him. He'll get Matthews attention, and introduce me as a good friend, and we'll all go for a drink together. While drinking, just leave a dictaphone running, and ask him whatever I want.

It was THAT simple.

A month passed, and the Urbis event loomed.

The day before the Urbis event, I got a text from Paul. "Hi Mate. Still coming to the Urbis tomorrow?" "Yep indeed!" I replied. I had written a few questions out in advance, and put them with my tickets.

On the day, I set off to Manchester, and got there at about 1pm. It didn't start until 2pm, so I had a coffee and quickly read through my questions again.

About 1:30, I set out across the road to the Urbis. I was chatting on the phone. Looking around, I couldn't believe how many nerds there seemed to be. You know, people who are quite obviously into computer games and look a bit geeky. I commented, on the phone, about how many nerds there were outside the Urbis. "They're probably looking at you and thinking the same thing" was the reply. My wife graduated ironic-comment college way before I did.

At 2pm, all the attendees were ushered into the event, and Matthew Smith took his place on a chair at the front of the stage, next to Paul.

The two hours of Matt chat absolutely shot by and at the end of the event loads of geeks, myself included, lined up to get autographs and share a few sentences.

(I actually have Matthew Smiths autograph on the covers of both my Manic Miner tape, AND on my Jet Set Willy tape. How COOL is THAT?!?)

So, I stepped to one side and introduced myself to Paul Drury. He couldn't have been more welcoming. He shook my hand, encouraged me to stay around, asked about 80sNostalgia.com, and chatted about his America trip. As David Crookes said, what a thoroughly nice chap!

Half an hour after the event had meant to have ended, and just after Matt had finished signing things, Paul introduced me to him.

"Matt, this is Craig from 80sNostalgia.com, and he'd like to buy you a drink."

"Great!" said Matt, beaming at me.

Another guy then stepped up and asked if I minded if he joined us for the drink. "Yeah, no problem" was the resounding reply, and Mike Mason from http://www.Cubed3.com was added to our group. Mike had also prepared some questions to ask Matt, so we all went to the cafe and I bought drinks for all.

So Paul, Matt, Mike and myself were all sat around a table, three of us drinking Pepsi and Matt with a beer, and I just asked random questions for 15 minutes. The questions I had prepared earlier went completely out of the window, and I just asked things that I wanted to know. They are probably not questions that other people are interested in, but to me they were very important. I didn't want to waste my time asking things that are well documented all over the internet already, I asked things that mattered to me, and I was very pleased with his answers.

(The following excerpt is from memory)
---------------------------------------------------------

Me : There are some seriously scary things in Jet Set Willy, aren't there?

MS : Errr..... Like what?

Me : Spinning razor blades?

MS : (nods) Yep.

Me : Monks with extending noses?

MS : (smiles and nods again) Yep.

Me : A massive Satan head?

MS : (giggles) ....yep...

Me : (Preparing to ask him if he was an evil child, but Matt interjects)

MS : I should have put some foxes in there too!

Me : Foxes?

MS : You wouldn't believe how many people are scared of foxes! And moths.

Me : Moths?

MS : Yeah, flappin' about. And clowns!

Group : *communal fear noise*

-----------------------------------------------------------

At the end, I asked Matt if I could take a photo of him drinking the beer I'd promised him, to prove that I had done it. " 'Ang on" he said, picking up his beer and doing his "posh drinking" pose...

(A pose he started doing even before my camera was ready. He maintained this pose for 15 full seconds in the middle of a cafe while I put my drink down, picked up my phone, navigated to photo mode, and snapped a shot.)



Matthew Smith Drinking Beer

For the full interview, please visit The Matthew Smith Interview at 80sNostalgia.com

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Listening In

A few days ago, as the weather was so hot, we were allowed to come into work in casual clothes. Normally suits are worn, but as we were in the UK and the weather was above freezing, it was a special occasion.

Although I started at 9:00am, I was in work at 8:30am. My boss phoned my mobile at 8:40, while he was on his way into work, as he started at 9:00. He phoned to see if I would like a bacon barm. He was in the shop getting one for himself, and thought he'd phone me up and offer to get one for me too as he knew I'd already be in work. He's the best boss ever! Obviously I said yes as, even though I had already had breakfast, there is always room for a bacon barm.

He came in a few minutes later, placed a fresh bacon barm on my desk, and started to make his way to the bistro at the other end of the office to eat his food.

Just after he left my desk, about 10 seconds later and while he was still in my view walking up the office, my mobile rang again. It said the call was from my boss. I glanced up and could still just about see my boss at the other end of our office. He didn't have his phone to his ear, and he had his bacon barm in one hand, but no phone.

With the benefit of hindsight, what probably happened was that his phone called me accidentally. I was the last number he had called, and while his mobile was in his pocket he must have accidentally called his most recent number again. Looking back, this is really obvious. I should have just ignored the phonecall.

But I didn't. As I said, this was a “hindsight” thought. What I actually did was a lot different, and I honestly, honestly don't know why I did it.

When I saw my phone ringing, even though I could see he wasn't actually phoning me, I answered it. When I put my ear to my phone all I got was that scratchy "schwip-schwap" walking sound of a phone in a pocket.

You know when you have a quick succession of thought? They gp BAM BAM BAM, and you have a whole thought process in 2 seconds? What follows is the actual train of thought that I had….

1) He's phoned me by accident.
2) His phone must be in his jacket pocket.
3) Hang on, it's casual day, he isn't wearing a suit so his phone isn't in his jacket pocket.
4) This means it must be somewhere else.
5) It wasn't in his hand
6) The only thing he was wearing with pockets was…
7) Oh god, his phone is in his shorts.
8) Oh double-god, my ear is 6cm away from his testicles.
9) I may need to wash my ear.

I needed to get his attention. It was bad enough knowing what I was listening to, but imagine if I let it keep happening! How odd would THAT be?!? Imagine he later found out that I had his nads on the phone and I just listened to them for longer than either of us were comfortable with! No, I needed to get him to turn his phone off urgently.

Again, stupidly but genuinely, I had another quick succession of thoughts on how to remedy the problem…

1) My ear is in his shorts
2) I need to get him to get his phone out.
3) I have to get his attention!
4) THAT’S IT! I JUST NEED HIM TO KNOW I’M THERE!

Deeply panicked, and in a desperate attempt to get a response, I shouted “HELLO TESTICLES!” into my phone. Instantly it hit me how stupid what I had just done was. Firstly, they don’t have ears, but more importantly I’d just shouted “testicles” while at work! No, I needed something that didn’t involve words, that people wouldn’t think was weird.

In another flash of inspiration, it occurred to me that if his nads were irritated in some way, he’d have to put his hand into his pocket to “arrange things”, and the best noise I could make wouldn’t be words, but a constant buzzing or humming noise. So I made a deep, rumbling “oooooooooooooh!” noise, hoping the resonance would cause a noticeable feeling.

Only then, after doing all the answering, shouting and oooohing, did it occur to me just just hang up.

The entire thought process, shouting and ooohing must have taken no longer than 5 seconds in actual time, it happen that quickly. I was too embarrassed to talk about it to colleagues, so I didn’t speak for a few minutes afterwards and, thankfully, no-one spoke to me. I must have sounded stupid.

But to any spectators, all they must have seen me do was answer my phone, wait 2 seconds, shout “Hello Testicles”, then do a deep “OOOOOH” noise and hang up.

They must think I’m a freak now.

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Public Apology

To Dave.

I'm really sorry.

Really, proper, sorry.

Like, the sort of sorry you get when you're showing a hamster to a child and accidentally squeeze it to hard and burst it 30cm in front of a childs face.

PROPER sorry.

I've said a lot of mean, untrue things to you in the past, and I want it made public that I am truly sorry for most of them. You didn't deserve the majority of them, as the bulk of things were untrue.

I didn't realise how hurtful some of the things that I said were, until you decided you could no longer work in the same building as me, and left.

Not only did you leave work in annoyance, but you left the country too. In fact, I annoyed you so much that you left Europe all together, and now live in Canada.

The only way I feel I can apologise properly is if I list the things that I am sorry about. So please find below a thorough, but by no means conclusive, list of things I am really sorry about.

I was wrong to suggest that you would be the outright winner if there was ever a Eurovision Mong Contest.

*******************************************

I'm sorry that I emailed you a joke, watched your reaction, then sent you another email saying "Thanks for helping me to write Chapter 1 of 'How to amuse monkeys' "

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Thanks for that time when you went downstairs to pick something up for me from the store room. At the same time, you also picked something up for our manager.

Because I had annoyed you earlier, when you returned, you had quite rightly placed a "stick this up your arse" post-it note onto my delivery. I'm sorry I took it off my delivery and put it onto the managers, so that when he returned to his desk, he thought that you'd brought him something that you wanted him to stick up his arse.

He didn't, which I am grateful for, but he was a bit p***ed off with you for a bit, which I AM sorry about.

*******************************************

I didn't mean to insinuate that, just because you were going on holiday with a male friend, that you were going on a big gay holiday.

The fact that You and your friend Michael were going to land at Canada Airport, and that You Michael Canadian Airport has an acronym of Y.M.C.A., is purely a coincidence.

The fact that your travel-buddy is a policeman who wears a policemans uniform as his job, and you're going to Canada which is full of Indians in head-dresses is again pure coincidence and not related to any gay anthem involving uniformed men.

It's also a total coincidence that you're NOT going to a City in Canada to mingle with the city people, but to a Village where no doubt you'll mingle with other village people.

*******************************************

I'm sorry that I keep buying the same specific sweets every day, just so that I can keep doing the same joke over and over again. It is pathetic and I am beyond juvenile when I keep offering sweets out and saying "Soft mints? But enough about how he walks..."

*******************************************

I'm sorry that I said that your dress sense "put the 'F' in style", just so you had to say "There's no F-in style", so I could reply "exactly"

*******************************************

When you were off one time, I used you PC to email........ no, no that doesn't matter. I'm not going to apologise for things that you'll probably never find out about. Ignore me.

*******************************************

I'm sorry I call you "Monkfish" in my head. I'm not sure why I always think of the phrase "Hello Monkfish" whenever I go to chat to you but if it's any help, this only started when the "Hello Moto" adverts came on telly about 2 years ago. It'll pass soon.

*******************************************

I'm sorry I declared you the winner of the game "Secret Spaz", the game where you have to pull spazzy faces in secret, despite you claiming you're not playing it. You just looked like you were at the time.

*******************************************

I'm sorry that I called you an idiot, 15 times in 1 minute, just because you chose to have your currency exchanged at your bank and not the post office at a cost to yourself of £3.00.

*******************************************

I'm sorry I haven't done any of your work while you're off on holiday.

I'm a bit sorry that I have put all my work on your desk for when you return, so you not only have your work to catch up on, but mine too.

I'm even a bit sorry that I went through a couple of fiing cabinets today and pulled out all the filing you'd done in the 2 weeks before going away, and replaced it onto your desk so it has to be re-filed along with everything above. Sorry, yes, but also mightly amused.

*******************************************

Sorry I changed your password on the works PC to "ZMZMZMZMZMZMZMZMZMZMZM" just so that I can accuse you of playing Daley Thompsons Decathalon every single morning.

*******************************************

I'm sorry I pulled a grotesque face at you. When you asked what I was doing, I replied "You started it" which I am also sorry about.

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I'm sorry I unplugged your keyboard, and plugged mine into your PC, so nothing happened when you typed, but when I typed words appeared on your screen. Initially, it was quite funny when you looked at your keyboard and started to type something normal, not realising tha the words on your screen didn't match your typing.

The look of utter horror when you saw what was actually there, and realised that it didn't match what you thought you'd typed, was classic. But I am sorry about it.

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I'm sorry that I put that pic of you online in the Car Park Challenge section of BadlySpelled.

...but I also put it in more online places than I originally told you about. It was submitted to mingers.com, hotornot.com, a site that had a "rate the freak" page, and some site for wommas. If it's any consolation, your average score was 6. ......Sorry.

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We're the same height, and I know that from discussions that we're the same waist size. Despite these facts, you're a stone heavier than me.

TECHNICALLY, this can only be because you're more dense than I am. So TECHNICALLY, I'm not wrong about that.

Sorry I keep adding the word "git" to the end when I describe you as "dense".

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I'm sorry I announced to the office that you had "amazing bowel control", when in fact it was just a man playing bagpipes nearby.

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Sorry I said you had a fat face.

But even you laughed when I stretched out both my arms, swung them in towards my head and said "That's you shutting your fat face." Sorry anyway.

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Sorry I turned my phone onto camera mode, and ran at you in the street while I filmed the collision with your face.

Although I'm sorry I did it, when I watched the film back, it was good to see that someone in the background was highly amused, which more than made up for the pain you suffered.

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Sorry I keep mentioning your wonky nose. Admittedly, posting a comment like this on the internet is going to attract a far wider audience, and point it out to loads more people than I was doing originally.....

Even so, I think it's worth doing as I really do want to apologise for EVERYTHING that I have done. So the text-version of the wonky nose comment stays.

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When we went to the chippy and the lady asked if we were together, I said "No, he just talks a bit camp." I think she meant were we ordering together. So I'm sorry about that too.

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A year or so ago, in the eating room at work, there was me and you on one table, and 4 good-looking females sat alone all dotted around the room at different tables. Sorry that I embarassed you when I got up to walk out and said "I'll leave you here on your own with the fit chicks, Dave."

You looked really self-conscious, but I'm sure that the rush of blood to your head can only have done you good. Like a brain-flush, or sumat.

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One time, you had bought some soup. You commented about the salt content of it, so I asked what you meant. You told me about the fact that you could taste salt quite a lot, it was leaving a thin coat of salty taste all around the inside of your mouth, and went on about the salt ratio in the recipe.

Admittedly, shouting "Christ you're dull" at your face may not have been the nicest thing for me to do, but it was the most factual. Soz.

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That time when I looked at your forehead and started adjusting my tie, pretending that I could see my reflection was out of order too.

You're far from balding.

(....what am I on about?!? This is a apology thing, not a lie to your face thing! Ignore that last bit. I can't apologise for nature, Div.)

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Sorry I just called you Div too.

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I'm sorry that every time I email you, I include the following picture and comment...

Hello Dave!
From Your Special Friend.

It's childish, it's annoying, but I find it highly amusing.

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Whenever we go anywhere in town at dinner time, I always get chatted up and you don't. I'm not sure why. I'm married, and have been for 11 years. I ALWAYS have my wedding ring on, carry around photos of my kids, and even dance like an embarassing dad at weddings. Despite all these things, I get more flirts from ladies than you do.

I was wrong to imply that it's because they think you're a menk and that I'm your carer.

AND I was wrong to say that you dress like a "special".

The thing that I'm REALLY sorry about is for telling all these girls around town these things in the first place.

To be honest though, I get chatted up more because I'm fitter than you. Probably.

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Sorry that I only come and stand near you, not to talk, just to pump.

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When you said that you watched TV last night. It was really depressing and it put you off watching it again, I'm sorry I said "No, that wasn't the TV, that would have been the mirror."

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When I kept saying how camp, yet festive you looked, you were slightly confused. It was October. I thought you'd decided to follow the line "DON WE NOW OUR GAY APPARELL"

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When I found out that you were leaving, I was really saddened. I know I didn't show it externally, and I kept shouting "WOOOO! AAAAH-YEAH! HI 5!" which may have given you the wrong impression. So sorry about that too.

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When you left, I had to take over a few of your jobs. People noticed. They started jokingly comparing me to you, and saying things like "Are you the new Dave?" and "When can we start calling you Dave?"

Then they started suggesting that I should take on a few of your characteristics too.

Sorry that when they asked me "When are you getting the limp?" I replied "just after the wonky nose, the scuffed knuckles and the hunchback."

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I invented a code, based loosly on roman numerals and numerology, that gave each letter in your name a value. The code didn't include any letters that weren't in your name. I called it Davology.

The way it worked is that it adds the value of each letter to the value of the letter both preceding and following it, then times it by the one at the opposite proportional end. So if your name had 11 letters, you'd take the value of letter 2, added to the value of letters 1 and 3, then times'd be the value of the letter at position 10 (2 back). Then at letter 3 you'd add letters 2 and 4, then times by the letter at position 9. You'd work forward and back at the same time through the entire name.

Make sense?

No, it didn't to me either. Your stupid Davology code makes as much sense to me as everything else that you ever did.

Sorry that Davology is stupid too.

If you're interested, your Davology score is 666.

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I was thinking back about out happy days, before you left, and realised that it annoyed me how you have constantly shunned technology. You didn't have a mobile phone. You didn't own a digital watch. Or a calculator. Or a wallet. Your comb was an oyster shell. You didn't use a pencil sharpener, but chose to whittle pencils using a shard of flint instead.

Rather than buy pre-packed food from the places around town, you chose to bring in ingredients harvested that morning from a local farm. Unrefined flour, for example, which you ground over the course of the morning using your rotating office chair.

It was like spending working-days with someone from a different century. Everything that you did was re-enacted just like it would have been in oldern times.

You were so old fashioned and technophobic, that I'm sorry that I couldn't come up with any insults that you would understand, as I tend to use words commonly used in the 21st Century.

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The "bummer-in-a-cage" joke that you told me made me laugh for hours. Absolute Quali-tie-aye.

I'm just sorry that I didn't come up with it.

I know that's more of a self-pity thing, but it still counts because I used the word "sorry"

Sorry Davo!

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