Out geeked

I've been out geeked by Mrsslippy.

During the summer, upon seeing Gingerfeck and I using Latitude to work out that we were sat opposite each other in a beer garden, she decided it was time to upgrade her own phone into something a bit more technical.

I use a smartphone running Windows mobile, as I needed to be able to synchronise it with my Outlook diary at work. Due to added geekery, it will now also talk to Google Calender, which talks to my Outlook at home, which in turn talks to my ipod, so entering an appointment on any one of them will result in it turning up everywhere, so no excuses for missing anything (other than birthdays which have not been put in any of them - oops - sorry Mum).

Mrsslippy doesn't need to sync with Outlook, as she keeps her electronic diary in Google, so didn't need a Windows phone.

Blackberrys are a bit too business function led, so not one of those.

iPhones may look cool, and have loads of 'apps', but (unless you, dear reader, own one) can make you look like a bit of a pretentious cock, which Mrsslippy is not.

So upon my insistence advice she got an HTC Magic, the reasons being;

1. My phone, although running Windows, was made by HTC, and works well
2. Operates on Google Android, so integrates seamlessly with her email, diary, maps etc..
3. Has thousands of 'apps' available from Android Market, many of which are free.
4. It's not an iPhone

After an initial period of frustration at not instantly knowing how to use all the functions on it despite not having even read the quickstart guide, let alone the full manual, she seems to growing increasingly fond of the ability to play Bejewelled, check Twitter and Facebook, and see where she is on a map. She can even use it for Spotify - millions of songs instantly streamed to your phone....

Her greatest application find recently is My Tracks. Not only does this GPS software track your current position along the same lines as Latitude, it also stores all the data which can then be uploaded to Google.

So last week while we were wandering around Cornwall, Mrsslippys phone was following our every move, and analysing it....

So on Monday 14th September we left Little Tolmennor Barn at 09:49 am to walk to Penzance, via St Michaels Mount.

The walk to St Michaels took 7 hours 4 mins, but we were only moving for 5 hours 9 mins, having stopped to have sandwiches on the way, and a cream tea in Marazion.

Our average moving speed was 2.3 mph, and despite the highest point we reached being only 194m, due to the ups and downs of the route we ascended a total of 611m, covering a distance of 11.9 miles.

After waiting an hour for the tide to go out so we could walk along the normally submerged pathway back off the mount, we carried on the 3.5 miles to Penzance at an average speed of 2.5 mph, where upon we collapsed into the first pub we could find to fill up on beer and dinner.

We got a taxi back to the cottage.

You can see the route we took here and here, with all the statistical details popping up if you click on the red marker at the ends of the routes. You can even view it in Google Earth, and tilt the camera angle to see all the uppy and downy bits. It really is quite bizarre looking at the red line it's traced and remembering stopping to sit on rocks that you can see on a satellite photo.

Mrsslippy is now using it all the time, and can easily tell you the distance and average speed of anywhere we go, by foot, car or train.

And I can tell you with out the assistance of any electronic assistance that Mrsslippy walked a grand total of 50 meters yesterday. Five times to the kitchen, and four to the bathroom. Bloody geeks and gadgets eh?

Who needs 'em

I made you this...

More musical musings today.

After reading several good reviews on line, I decided that I was long overdue having a closer look at Spotify

Streaming music really has come a long way. Spotify has a library of 3.8 million tracks, and although there are apparently some big artists missing, it found everything I was looking for. And unlike iTunes where you can listen to just an excerpt from a track before deciding if you want to buy it, with Spotify you can listen to the whole song - hell, you can listen to the whole album.

You can queue up tracks to play, or just create playlists that you can listen to again and again, or send to others via Facebook or by sending the URL.

What you can't do, is copy the music onto a CD or mp3 player. But if you're just sat at home and fancy listening to Now! 72, then you can. If you can tolerate a short advert every 4 or 5 songs, it's completely free. If that bothers you, you can pay 99p for an advert free day, or a tenner a month to never hear an advert again. WIN.

If you're a bit geeky like me, you can hook up your computer to the surround sound, and it's like having your own radio station with 3.8 million tracks at hand.

But that's not the real selling point for me, it's the ability to make playlists and distribute them by the wonder of teh interwebs.

It's the mix tape of the future.

I don't have to sit by an old tape deck, patiently listening to each song as it copies. A pile of other music sat next to the stereo waiting it's turn to be added. Carefully writing the tracklist onto the cassette inlay, listening as you create. A mix tape was something special (or at least you hoped so), because there was a finite amount of space on the tape, everything had to be carefully selected. It had to be listened to in order, and you hoped the recipient understood that selection and creation took hours. It was special.

iTunes made things easier. I don't have to walk all the way to the shelves and start rummaging through CD's. Everything is already ripped to the hard drive. If I want to make a mix CD I just drag and drop files, and then burn it. You have to take a bit of consideration of how the recipient will play it. If they can play mp3s off a CD you can stick loads on, but if not, you're restricted to burning it at 78 minutes max.

But now there is Spotify.

And because I love you very much, I have made you a mixtape.

I like a good cover version, but am also quite partial to a bad one also, so on this very special mixtape you can expect to find a bit of both...

If you've never heard William Shatner and Joe Jacksons unique interpretation of Pulps 'Common People', you're in for a treat.

There are some pretty obvious ones. No mixtape of covers could be complete without Johnny Cash's haunting rendition of Nine Inch Nails 'Hurt'.

And there's stuff that is more famous in it's covered version that you may have never even heard the original - but that's not going to stop me chucking The Damneds 'Eloise' on.

And if you manage to stick it out to the end - get ready for Queensryche "doing" 'Scarborough Fair'. As I type Simon and Garfunkle must be busy digging themselves a shallow grave so they can dive in and have a damn good spin.

To listen to your mixtape, click here , and if you really love me, you could always make me one back.

Or just send one to someone you genuinely care about.

iDiot

I've still not got round to making any playlists for my iPod, and so can't trust it on shuffle yet, as it may play me something that's merely residing on it for a rainy day.

But I had forgotten that the newer ones come with built in 'Genius' to generate playlists for you based on the track you have selected.

It does this by comparing your library and purchasing habits with those of "other people", to suggest similar songs to the one you picked.

Other people......hmmmmm......

Other people are not to be trusted. It's "other people" that make Britain's Got Talent Britain's most watched show. It's "other people" that keep Duffy in Diet Coke and ridiculous leggings.

You've only got to go to "other peoples" houses and check out their CD collections to see what I mean. We all do it. First time we go to someones house we go straight to the music collection and start judging them - usually finding them lacking.

But iTunes reckons it knows so many other people, it must be able to use this knowledge to satisfy me on the way to work, so ok iPod, give it your best shot.

I headed out the door with Muses magnificent 'Knights of Cydonia'. I wanted wakey-wakey music, and that certainly fitted the bill. Six minutes and seven seconds later, it's time for the "Genius" to step up to the plate. 'Reptillia' by The Strokes blasts out.

So far so good. Not what I would have chosen for myself, but I like it, and it is in keeping with my general mood. So what will it throw at me next....

"'Map of the Problematique' by ..erm...Muse again." said the Genius

"Ok Genius, well worked out. It's even off the same album you fuckwit. I'll listen because I like it, but I was hoping for a bit more variety...now play me something else.."

"How about the super smashing 'Cherub Rock' from the super Smashing Pumpkins?" asked the Genius.

"Splendid" said I. "Now you're getting the idea. What's next?"

"I really think you want to hear a bit of 'Time is Running Out' said the Genius.

"Er..hang on. Isn't this just Muse again?"

"Yes, but it's off a different album. Different see? Variety!"

I was starting to suspect this Genius was a bit more Justin Hawkins than Steven Hawkin...

Yes Justin, that is a catchy tune, but isn't it just a little bit Queen rip off derivative, and basically what you just played me but ever so slightly different. Why can't you be more like Steven?

He knows what variety means, using his unique vocal stylings to maximum effect collaborating with artists as diverse as Radiohead (Fitter, Happier) and Daft Punk (Technologic) He was even Chers singing coach on 'Believe', for which I believe he also choreographed the video.

"Now do you get what I mean Genius?"

"I think so. You want something that matches the camp theatrics, killer 70's riffs and wailing vocals of Knights of Cydonia, not just lots more Muse?"

"Yes please."

"Ballroom Blitz by The Sweet?"



"Absolutely!"

That is what I want Genius to to. To take something that I would never thing of playing myself, but matches my general ambiance, and brings a little grin of guilty pleasure to my face.

My next logical step would be to see how far I could push the Genius's logic, and try to get it to generate a chain that would get me as far away from where it started.

It would be a fair assumption that anyone who liked Knights of Cydonia would also like Ballroom Blitz, but since that hails from a long gone era (released 3 years before Muse's Matt Bellamy was even born!), it probably has fans that would have turned their noses up at some of the other 24 tracks on the Knights generated playlist - particularly Tenacious D's most tender and romantic 'Fuck her Gently'.

"So Genius. I like Ballroom Blitz. Find me 24 other songs like that one."

"Right you are sir. Anyone of these rather take your fancy?"

"Yes. ELO's 'Mr Blue Sky'. Got any more like that?"

"As a matter of fact I do. And I think you'll be particularly pleased with Supertramps 'Logical Song'"

"I would. Logical Song would be a logical step. Give me 24 songs like that one."

"You're the boss. Anything tickle your fancy?"

"I like a bit of Human League. Find me more like 'Don't you want me'."

"Madonna's 'Holiday'?"

"Ok - one last jump."

"Hit me Baby one more time?"

Yes - I think I will. I think I will hit you in your silly digital face. By trusting the listening habits of those pesky "other people", I have contrived by using playlists of only 25 songs, and 6 steps, to get from what is an undeniably a classic rock tune, to Britney. If I hadn't stopped there God only knows where it would have gone...

The fact that all the above songs are even on my iPod are inconsequential........

Next up I'm going to see how many steps it takes to get me from Ace of Spades to Ace of Bass. I bet I can do it in in less than 10, especially with the fucking retard at the controls.

I would have done it on the way home, but chose to listen to Geoff Boycott on Test Match Special instead.

Now he is a Genius.

I know he is, because the fucker never stops telling us.......

iVedied

A friend died this morning.

After nearly three years of dutiful service, my iPod has stopped shuffling, and just shuffled off.

I should have seen the warning signs. It's not been well for some time. The screen had developed faint black lines across it like LCD crows feet, making video playback useless. It's memory had been full for over a year, and failing fast, and every new thing it had to remember was at the expense of something else. It had become increasingly neurotic - even when I played my favourites on shuffle, it kept playing the same ones, and completely ignoring others.

A few months ago it coughed up a lung, or part of it's headphone, into my ear canal, but rather than retiring it, I tried to nurse it back to health with some lovely new headphones (Goldring GX200's - with Comply foam earpieces that work like earplugs - block out pretty much all extraneous noise. Fucking sweet. Thanks Gingerwarrior for the tip), but to no avail.

It was tired of amusing me, so after playing me a podcast from Adam & Joe last night we both went to sleep.

It never woke up.

I tried to resuscitate it on three different chargers, used the 'magic sequence of buttons' to try to initiate a soft, then factory reset, and plugged it into the laptop, but to no avail. The laptop wouldn't even recognise it as an external storage device.

It's dead. I'd like to think it didn't suffer. It probably enjoyed a little chuckle to Adam & Joe before it slipped away to technology heaven in it's sleep.

So after a brief period of mourning, which took about as long as it takes me to walk to work whilst listening to nothing but the traffic, I decided I should replace it as soon as possible. It's what it would have wanted.

I managed to stay at work for at least 4 hours before I gave up for the day and headed into town (Fuck off! I'm owed hours, alright?), and straight to the Apple shop. Once I finally managed to corner an assistant amongst the throng of people who weren't there to shop, just wank over the shiny white goods, it was a quick process.

"My iPod has died, I need a Classic replacement"
"Black or silver?"
"Black."

Box out the draw.

"Card or cash?"
"Card."

Assistant had a hand held card reader.

"Do you want a printed receipt or an e-mailed one?"
"Email."

Key my e-mail address into his card reader, and I was out within a minute of making eye contact. Job done.

Safely home, I need nothing out of the box except for the iPod itself. The dead one was only 60GB, and since we have way more music, audio books, videos and podcast subscriptions than that, I had to manage the content manually.

Now I've just connected it up and said "knock your self out".
As I type it is now 'copying 6100 of 12484'. Greedily devouring the contents of my hard drive like an electronic baby suckling at my digital breast.

Trouble is, just like a greedy child, once it's done, I'm going to have to burp up some of the shit that it should never have swallowed.

I keep a pretty eclectic library. Some things that are not really my cup of tea were allowed to reside on the old iPod just in case they were ever needed on group holidays or gatherings. Cheesy party tunes and 'classics' by the likes of Abba, or Britney.

But there is stuff in the Library that has been added to make playlists for specific occasions, or to rip into a 'significant' cd for someone, that I will not have on my new iPod, for fear it might accidentally play it at the slip of a button. Better safe than sorry.

The other problem is this new child also needs to be taught not only what it should never have swallowed, but what is actually very tasty and nutritious. Part of your musical 'Five-a Day'.

Because I had to manage the old iPod manually, and both Mrsslippy and I used the same library, all my playlists and ratings were in the actual iPod itself. I don't have to rank all 12,500 songs, but as I like to use smart playlists, I am going to have to tell it what I would rank as 4 or 5 stars, so if I want it to play a selection of all my favourites, or stuff I quite like from the 80's, it can do.

And the best part? Not only do I have a nice shiny new iPod that I can fit all my stuff on, with plenty of room for more, I also have yet another pair of shitty white headphones that came with it. I think that makes six pairs between the two of us now. They're not even coming out the packet. They're going straight into the big box of wires and other such gubbins in the loft where all electrical equipment goes when it dies, along with a very dear, but very dead, old friend.

Spitting Images

In an ongoing theme where I extol the virtues of those clever, clever people at Google, I shall today be hammering on about their photo storage software, Picasa.

Downloaded to the desktop, not only is it a nicely functioning image viewer/editor, it also offers oodles of online storage where you can geotag your photos to see them on Google Earth, or just keep them safe and accessible for a rainy day.

The really clever bit is it's face recognition tool.

Upload an album in a couple of minutes, and it will find all the faces in the photos, and ask you to name them. It'll clump together faces that it thinks are of the same person, and is often frighteningly accurate, even if hair and makeup vary enormously from one picture to the other, which mine normally does.

The more you upload and name, the better it gets at it.

However, you often get people lurking in the background of your pictures, so it will still find the face, and have a stab at guessing who it is - even though it's nobody it's ever seen before.

I was starting to find it quite amusing as it suggested random strangers who look nothing like any of my friends might be someone I know, based on it's previous experiences.

So in the name of titting about science, I thought I'd chuck a few random photos at it, and see who it thinks it is.

First off, what better substitute for real friends, then plastic ones.













This is a picture of - from left to right - Lyndsey, Kat, Sam, Morph, Kay, and Tanya.

I don't know what's more puzzling from this. The fact that it thought the cast of Friends all look like girls (or at least girls that I know), or the fact that Ali has married a David Schwimmer lookalike. Ethicon on the other hand, has done alright for himself.

There must be a celebrity that looks like a male friend?

How about this fine fella?



It's not Dale Winton - it's Ethicon of course!

And who's this?



Sorry Timbo. It's you. Still in shock from NCFCs relegation I see.

This one?



No it's not Brucie, but neither (rather surprisingly since I was trying to stitch him up) is it the Gingerfeck. If you think you look more like Brucie than Ronan does, I think I'd keep very quiet about it. I know who it thinks it is, but I'm not saying either.

Suffice to say, it is neither me or Mrsslippy. There are so many photos of us saved to it, you could shoot me in the dark with a balaclava on and it'd still know who I am.

Have a go for yourselves. And if you find a picture of a dodgy celebrity that it thinks is me, please let me know. I'm thinking of branching out and setting up a lookalike agency.

Are you free to 'do' Graham Timbo? I'm sure he'd like it.

I see lead people....

I saw a glimpse of my past today. I ghost of my adolescence.
A phantom. Dead flesh and empty eye sockets glimpsed out the corner of my eye.

And about 4cm tall....

Mrsslippy has just booked us a lovely cottage in Cornwall for a week in September. I've not been that way since I was 3 years old (apparently), and it'll make a nice change from the usual yearly jaunt to The Lake District.

Excited about the prospect of visiting somewhere new, I skipped out of work early to nip into town and buy some OS maps and guide books. Given my new found enthusiasm for walking everywhere, I took a leisurely stroll into town, taking time to soak up the surroundings that usually fly straight past me in the car.

I was ambling down Regent Street when I saw it. I knew the shop was there, but was always in a vehicle. I tried to walk past without a second look, but was hypnotically drawn to the window display.....

Citadel Miniatures.

Or as the Cringleford Lads would say, 'Toy Soldiers'.

Exquisitely painted little figurines from the Games Workshop range of fantasy role playing games.

From the Tolkienesque/Dungeons and Dragons style orcs and goblins, to the full on sci-fi Space Marines of Warhammer 40,000, I used to love that shit.

I wasn't a gamer, I'm not that geeky, but I loved to paint those little things. It sort of started out of necessity....ie I needed a job.

Unable to pay for the fortnightly trip to Carrow Road, and general day to day expenses of a boy growing up on my pitiful paperboy's wages, I had to get a Saturday job.

There was a games shop in town that specialised in board games (not toys!), and as we've always been a bit of a cards and board games kind of family, it seemed like a cool place to apply.

They took me on, and I discovered that there were many more games than just Chess, Triv and Scrabble. There were dozens of D&D style roleplaying games, and the ones from Games Workshop had little lead miniatures to play them with. We also sold the paints, and the brushes - the whole kit and caboodle.

There was (and still is) a magazine called White Dwarf that was packed full of pictures of readers paint jobs, and I just had to try....

As it turned out, I was pretty good, and found that there was a ready market for pre painted figures for the younger kids that came in. The owner of the shop used to have us split the multipacks of figures, so they could be sold individually to kids who couldn't afford £2.99 for three. But he'd have us sell them for £1.20 each to allow for the fact that there would be some single figures that nobody would want.

Lying cock.

It was just a way of fleecing the kids, just like a bent newsagent selling a single ciggy and a match for 20p (but probably more these days).

As a way of redressing the balance, I had no qualms about lifting the stray figure, painting it in the shop while it was quiet, and selling it for my own gains. He still made more than enough from the split packets, and given that he took 20% commission on figures painted by others and sold in his shop, I could leave a few there at the end of the working day, and come back to the shop the following week to find them sold. He got the same as he would have got if we'd sold it unpainted, and I got a nice little supplement to my meagre wages.

Perversely, I now had enough money to go to the football every week, but not the free time...

Thank god I discovered that it was pretty easy to get served alcohol at the age of 15, or I'd have nothing to look forward to an a Saturday (or Tuesday) anymore. The friends that mocked me for painting also mocked my involvement in Venture Scouts, but Scouts with cars (who took it in turns - so no designated driver night for me.), genuine ID's, and a knowledge of all the decent taverns in Norwich was a happy part of my growing up.


So I wandered into Games Workshop this afternoon, and looked at the wares on display. All nostalgic for a youth spent fiddling the boss, or sitting in my bedroom with paint and brushes everywhere.

I had a habit of sucking the tip of the paint brush to get a fine tip on it, and after an hours painting would end up with a some kind of weird emo stripey acrylic lip gloss.

Or sitting on my bed all hunched over with my legs stretched out in such a fashion that I'd cut off the blood supply, and would only notice when I went to stand up and both legs would give way, leaving me laying prostate, frantically trying to rub away the pins and needles that had taken hold of both legs, right to the top of my thighs.

Happy days......

But it appears the figures are now made of some type of plastic, and lack the comforting weight of the old metal ones.

What's more they're around £8 for a single figure! Or you can buy a box of 10 build 'em yourself Space Marines for £20. I remember when you could get 30 plastic ones for a tenner, but they were just for pikey cheapskates. They had to be metal!

And the paint that used to -'ahem'- cost me a quid is now in a pot half the size and twice the price. I'm definitely best out of it, and happy to report I left the shop empty handed.

Because if at the age of 15, painting toy soldiers got me involved in petty theft and underage drinking, if I did it today I doubt I'd get away with anything less than gun crime and a nasty crack habit.

Big Bang Theory

Much as Mrsslippy and I enjoy watching enormously funny Big Bang Theory, I sometimes worry that she sees a little too much of me in some of the characters, particularly Sheldon.

Fair enough, I may have a few nerdy tendencies, but have conclusive proof that I am nothing like the caricatures of geekdom that grace the screen...

1. They all own padded dressing up costumes based on DC Superhero 'The Flash'. My padded Superhero Costume is Batman, who is also from DC comics.
2. They spend a lot of time playing video games, and are obsessed with playing Halo. I am not. It makes me motion sick. I much prefer to play Resident Evil, Doom, any of the Lego themed stuff, Super Bros. Smash Brawl, or anything based in the Star Wars Universe.
3. They think Captain Kirk walks on water. He doesn't. Jean Luc Picard does.
4. They are such creatures of habit that they have a Chinese meal every Thursday. We don't. We have fajitas every Friday. And fish and chips every Saturday lunchtime
5. They play Boggle in Klingon, which I wouldn't be able to do. Well not win it anyway, as the only Klingon I know is HIja (yes), ghobe' (no), and Ka'Pla!
6. They have stacks of comics kept in plastic bags to protect them. Only my Fantastic Fours and V for Vendettas are in plastic bags. The rest are well thumbed, as are my graphic novels.
   
7. They've got a couple of telescopes in their flat. I only have one.
8. They have several laptops dotted around their flat, I only have three, and one is pretty dead , and another pretty unreliable (but if I need to get on the internet and Mrsslippy is on the good one, I can still use my phone, my Wii, or my DS )
9. They play World of Warcraft, which I haven't played for nearly a year (after nearly 1500 hours of game play)
10. Sheldon refuses to accept Loop Quantum Gravity theory as a method of unifying quantum mechanics, insisting on String Theory, whereas I am happy to consider both of them as possible concepts.
11. None of them have the coordination to play any team sports, whereas I am great at.......oh fuck it.....you've got me bang to rights on that one.
12. I HAVE A REAL GIRLFRIEND

Yes Mrsslippy, as if the other 11 reasons (ok, 10 because of the sport one) weren't reason enough, you are the living, breathing proof that I am not a lonely sad geek.


I'm a happily attached sad geek.

Follow me...

Those clever, clever people at Google have done it again.

Just as I was becoming afraid I was turning into some kind of gibbering Luddite with a penchant for sandals and horticulture, they update a gadget on my phone, and I'm back in the land of the techno geeks.

My phone has GPS on it, which is doubly handy for using it for Satnav,which I rarely do, because being a bloke I was born knowing how to get from anywhere to anywhere by merely glancing at a map. However most maps don't tell you where the nearest boozer is, which the Satnav on the phone does, and doesn't need to be attached to a car, so I can always find a pub in a strange town.

Secondly, teh interwebs. Dial up WAP costs a fortune and is painfully slow. GPRS data connection is fast, and unlimited with my (generous) contract.

What the phone also has is Google Maps. A little version of Google Earth for your pocket, that does pretty much the same as the Satnav, only no boozer searching, and the satellite view is a bit busy for finding your directions. Only really useful if you're say, wandering around in fields on the a convoluted walk home from work and you want to check if you're likely to hit a proper path anytime soon.

But as I did that last Friday, I was prompted to install the latest version of Google Maps, and like a geek, the first thing I did was check what the new features were.

The application now has something called 'Latitude' bundled into it. What this has essentially done is turn the GPS into a 2 way street. Not only can I see my location, I can share it....

This can only be shared with people you approve, and if they have Google Maps on their phone, you can see where they are and vice versa. It doesn't matter if you don't have GPS, it will use phone masts to triangulate your position, but the accuracy is to within a few hundred, rather than a few meters.

With privacy in mind, you can set it to just show what town you are in, or to let people follow you like a hawk.

You can even add it as a widget/gadget to your iGoogle page, and follow your friends around from the comfort of your settee.

*Geeks only* - It's only set to work as a gadget in in America, but you can make your browser think that's where you are by amending the address bar to http://www.google.com/ig?gl=us

I thought this would be handy for Mrsslippy to be able to track if I was still at work, or had been sucked into the pub on the way home. Now she can see I'm enjoying a pint without having to ring me and disturb my supping.

Right now, if she's not busy rushing her arse of at work she can log in and check if I'm still home



Yep, looks like it.



In fact it looks like I'm in the living room....

Yesterday as I travelled back from Birmingham on the train, she was able to watch me chugging my way through Melton Mowbray, Nuneaton, Peterborough......, and had she been watching as I walked home this evening she would have seen me apparently trashing my way through neighbours houses and hedges due to a couple of metres error in where the satellites thought I was.

Probably like the scene in Aliens where the scanners show them all in the room, but there's no sign, Mrsslippy expected me to come crashing through the ceiling "they're coming out of the fucking walls man!"

So there's no hiding now. But don't think that means you can come and rob my house when I'm not here - Mrssplippy still might be.

And don't assume that just because my icon says I'm at home that I am. That's just where my phone is, and why would I take it to the pub with me anyway?

You know I never answer the fucking thing.

Can you hear me?

I nearly ended up with my first cybernetic implant today.

Well almost, I got a bit of wire mesh stuck in my ear.

And in fairness, it wasn't really stuck, as a bit of head tilt and a couple of bashes on the opposite side freed the offending article.

I'm not in the nature of sticking things in my ear, but this little bastard had managed to free itself from my headphones, and was intent on burrowing it's way into my head.

It's probably (definitely) my own fault, as I'd recently taken them apart and poked and scraped at them with the pointy end of my broken, yet still functional sunglasses (the plastic ear thingies have fallen off, but I'm not going to chuck away a pair of Ray Bans with intact lenses just because I've had to bend the arms a little bit to stop them falling off).

I've got a pair of in-ear headphones, and they have a little wire mesh in them to protect the speakery bit, that would be perfect for making the worlds smallest cup of tea, or sieving flour for a teeny weeny Victoria sponge. They'd got a bit clogged up with general ear debris, so I'd pulled them apart and removed said gunk, and in the process managed to dislodge one of the filters.

I pushed it back in, but was aware that it might not be completely stable, but love the sound they make, so didn't want the inconvenience and expense of having to replace them.

Because headphones are important, and should never be underestimated for the difference they make to a good tune.

Nothing, well few things, make me more irrationally annoyed than seeing some tosser with their ipod sat on the table in front of them, or held out in front of them, with a pair of shitty apple earphones that come supplied with them.

Yes you've got an ipod. Well done for that.

Even on the bus or out in town when the ipod is in the offenders pocket, I see those cheap nasty headphones and get the urge to rip them out their ears and shove them up their arse, because that is where they belong.

The apple earphones are just a wanky status symbol that says 'No, I haven't got a generic mp3 player, mines an ipod, because I'm really cool'

Everyone's got one. Get over yourselves and learn to appreciate it for what it actually does, rather than just using it as a status symbol.

Wake up call. The headphones that came with your ipod are cheap and nasty, and that's exactly why they came with it. If there were none supplied, there would be an outcry because you wouldn't be able to use it, so Steve Jobs has tried to please everyone, by supplying a pair that are functional, and yet so cheap they are disposable.

They don't fit in your ears properly, so all the noise (which is tinny and bassless) goes straight into the skin below your ear, rather than the ear canal itself. Even if you do manage to get them balanced, if you so much as blink one of them will shift and the balance is shot to bits. And because they don't deliver the sound into your ear, you end up having to turn the volume up even louder, which fucks your battery life, increases distortion, and forces everyone else to listen to what you are, which is not necessarily a good thing if your ipod is having a hissy fit, and is also just plain rude. If I want to listen to something, I'm polite enough to realise that not everyone else will too, so please do me the courtesy of reciprocating the civilities.

Decent headphones come in a range from as little as £20 for a vast improvement on the freebies, to several hundred pounds for some noise cancelling, gold plated contacts, sweet, sweet 'phones.

Rather than bundling in a £20 pair, that the aficionado will have to pay the extra on the price of their ipod for, but still not use, you get the shit pair, then you, the consumer decides how much extra you want to pay for the listening experience, keeping the price of the ipod itself as low as possible.

I don't know what else works on a similar principle. Dress shirts perhaps? Blokes (and women who shop for their blokes because we are a bit shit at clothes shopping) will know that sometimes when you buy a double cuffed shirt, it comes with these knotted bits of string on the cuffs enabling you to do them up. Purely functional. Nobody in their right mind would go out with these pseudo cufflinks, but there are people with wrong minds that do, just as there are people with wrong minds that listen to music through the abominations that they got free with their ipod.

No, instead of bundling in an expensive pair of cufflinks, you get just enough to make the shirt work if your too stupid to realise that what your supposed to do is decide whether you want to get an attractive, and perfectly usable pair from Next, or spend a months wages on some that you swear make all the difference, but still look like the Next ones to everyone else.

So what I'm really advocating is you don't need to spend hundreds on a pair of headphones, but please spend at least £20. Mine were £30 - and I'd never pay more than that, and I don't want to have to replace them for the sake of a little bit of metal that could potentially get stuck in my brain.

But if I catch you with a pair of the one's that were bundled in the box, I'm going to cut them off, and you know where they're going. I bet the acoustics are great up there, but you know what? I bet you still wouldn't appreciate them.

May the Fourth be with you

A Happy Star Wars Day to one and all!

It may come as a bit of a shock to some of you, but I'm actually a bit of a Star Wars fan.

There were a few clues if I'm honest. There are several Star Wars toys (yes toys - not 'collectibles' - they are for uber geeks and never get out the packet. Mine are for playing with) dotted around the living room.

I own somewhere in the region of 20 t-shirts that are in some way Star Wars related, possibly even more. I don't want to think to hard about it, let alone count them for fear it is actually much, much higher.

There is an 18" Darth Vader guarding my desk at work.

Even the web forum I use for work related activities has a Yoda avatar.

The more alert of you will have noticed I sport a tattoo on my right shoulder, which is normally hidden beneath clothing, but is now clear for all to see on my profile picture.

This too, is from Star Wars. I've never regretted having it done, but since 1999 have sometimes felt the urge to explain exactly when I had it done, because this makes a world of difference.

Because once upon a time, in a galaxy far, far away.....there were two types of Star Wars fan, those who followed the Rebel Alliance, and those who sided with the Empire.

If you don't know your Star Wars, then maybe being in the Rebel Alliance appeals to you? It sounds..you know..kind of rebellious.

Guess again! It's not. The rebellion are the good guys, and whereas they will ultimately win out, they're not rebellious. They're a crowd of goodie goodies with a semi-Buddhist mantra, and a penchant for brown hooded capes.

But the Empire...now you're talking. They get the best spaceships, best outfits, and a complete disregard for entire planets.

So when I decided I wanted a tattoo, first rule had to be, it should be significant to me. No Celtic Band, or Oriental symbol that had no bearing on my beliefs. It had to be Star Wars, and it had to be Empire.

Considering that a picture of Darth Vader or a TIE fighter might be just a wee bit shit, I looked for something that an unbeliever wouldn't recognise, but would be clocked by a fellow geek.

Now the Empire does have an insignia, but it's not plastered all over everything. You can see it on some of the Stormtroopers uniforms, most noticeably on TIE fighter pilot helmets. So that's what I had.













But then something terrible happened.

The Phantom Menace came along, with it's silly characters, cod mysticism, and plot holes so large you could hid a Death Star in them. There was no Rebellion, no Empire, just a Republic and a Trade Federation.

The Trade Federation were the baddies, with their Droid Army, so in order to protect themselves, the Republic (with Jedi's as their guardians), decided they needed an army of their own.

This didn't arrive until the next film, with Jedi's investigating who actually ordered an army of clones, as unbeknown to them, they were actually part of an Evil plot by the head of the Republic to turn it into an Empire.

So come the end of Attack of the Clones, this Clone Army arrives, and they look suspiciously like Stormtroopers. We know that they are eventually going to be the best baddies in the universe, but for the time being they are the dogsbodies of the Republic, and general goodie goodies.

And they all have my tattoo on them.



Worse still, George Lucas then makes a cartoon series based around the Clone Wars, so the symbol becomes more and more synonymous with Clones not Stormtroopers.

Why oh why oh why when the Emperors plans paid off did he not have a rethink on the insignia? A change of regime always leads to a bit of rebranding, or did they not have PR companies on Coruscant?

As these are set before the first three films, this would of course mean that I get to keep my tattoo, and the designers really should have come up with something different for the clones.

So if strangers recognise my tattoo as being from Star Wars, I am very quick to quantify just when I had it done.

I should say it was pre Phantom Menace, or pre 1999, but if I want to check for myself just how geeky they are too?

I say it's post Order 66

Wires

Mrsslippy and I have mostly spent the day packing, and untangling the unfathomable number of wires required to keep us, and our electrical goods happy whilst on holiday.

We shall be taking;

• 2 Cameras, each with a different charger
• 2 phones, again both different
• A camcorder - different connector again
• 2 Nintendo DS's . Mine's a Lite, Mrsslippy's is old school, so more different sockets
• 2 ipods - yay - at least they're both the same!

I shan't be taking a laptop, or the pocket digital radio, so small mercies there, but all in all we will require 8 different plugs and cables (and some headphones), the majority of which are now stuffed into my hand luggage in such a manner that when it goes through the x-ray machine it'll resemble the kind of device that gets trigger happy policeman all twitchy.

With by bag of goodies I resemble some kind of gadget obsessed Sport Billy.

Make that Spod Billy.





Why oh why electrical manufacturers can't just get together and decide on 2, maybe 3 standard charging tips I'll never know. Keep the ipod one - I'm sure it needs to be that fancy, but everything else that just requires a positive and negative connection can either have a simple pin, or mini USB.

The next problem is that the eco village we're staying at for a few days has no electricity, so anything that has a replaceable battery has had one bought for it off ebay, and I've spent the day fully charging everything, and it's back ups.

And not content with that, I've bought a solar powered unit, that will charge it's internal Li-ion battery, and then dribble the leccy back into a multitude of devices via a USB cable with (11!!) interchangeable tips to match your gadget - even if it still doesn't have the one that fits Mrsslippy's Samsung phone.

What could be more ecologically sound than that?

I'm sure that will come somewhere close to cancelling out my carbon skidmark. How much jet fuel does it take to charge an ipod anyway?

So fingers crossed that we get plenty of sunshine in the rainforest ,or nothings going to charge, and I'm going to have to resort to that other last minute purchase today.

A book.

Although I won't be able to read it by torchlight if the batteries go in that.....


Bugger.



Early start to the aiport tomorrow - see you in a couple of weeks.

Slippymark

Small is beautiful

I was alerted today to a video that I found just so cool, I just had to find out more, and share, so thanks scaryduck for the tip off.

Have you ever seen really great Macro photography? You know, pictures of really small stuff. You can tell it's small because the depth of field is short, so only part of the picture is in focus.

Kind of like what I've done below. Not the best examples, but they're mine so I can put them up without having to credit someone else.







Your brain knows these are small things because of the blurring in the foreground and background.

But can you trick your brain into thinking big things are small if what you're looking at is only focused centrally? Normal cameras don't do this. The last thing you would want if taking a nice scenery or crowd scene would be most of it being a blur.

You can get special lenses that will do this, or a bit of jiggery pokery in Photoshop can achieve the same effect with a bit of layer masking and lens blur.

I had a go myself with a picture I took in Venice looking down on St. Marks Square.

Not perfect, but a first attempt, and hopefully you get the impression that it could actually be a miniature model, not life sized. Probably turning up the colour saturation a bit might make the people look 'hand painted'. I'll tinker with some other pictures.



Now hold that thought, and have a look at some of the amazing pictures online that others have done.

And finally, check out Keith Loutits videos. He's taken the same principle and used time lapse photography to create some scenes that look like a Cravendale advert, but are real people, frame by frame by frame...


Mardi Gras from Keith Loutit on Vimeo.

Then check out his other stuff.

Fancy a go yourself but can't afford Photoshop?

Neither can I, so I use GIMP - it's free and does everything Potatoshop does.

You gotta love open access software developers

Geek Nirvana

My old mucker Stevo recommended a book to me this week.

I quote;

I read good book. The Gone-Away World.

Read. Enjoy.

(P.S. It's a nerd book which is why I am only recommending it to you.)

So £5.53 including VAT and delivery from Amazon has procured me said novel, saving me £12.46 from it's cover price of £17.99, which in turn I may put towards purchasing a new catflat, since the fuckwit of a postman has buggered ours by ramming the book through it.

The cover boasts a promise of 'Part adventure, part comic odyssey, part geek nirvana..'

Hmm...geek nirvana...tell me more....

The cover also heralds some artwork by my favourite painter, Hieronymus Bosch, fabled for his grotesque images of Hell.

Poor Hell, getting bad press again, due to some stupid typo or translation error. What Bosch was really painting were images of Hull. If you look carefully you can clearly see the Humber Bridge in the background of this one.

No wonder he hung up his paint brushes and concentrated on making power tools.





But I digress. This geek nirvana. What is it? Where is it? Have I already found it?

Buddah described nirvana as the perfect peace of the state of mind that is free from craving, anger and other afflictive states. The subject is at peace with the world, has compassion for all and gives up obsessions and fixations. But is that me?

What brings peace to my world? And more's the point, is it geeky?




Busta does. Never more content than when sat in a plastic bag. I blame his real dad for encouraging this as a kitten.
Nirvana level high, geek level low.



Lego Batman keyring. You're never alone when you've got a little Lego man for company, and what better company than this. Pinocchio had Jiminy Cricket, I've got the Dark Knight. What would you rather have as your conscious? A talking insect, or a psychotic vigilante?



Ray Harryhausen posable skeleton from Jason and the Argonauts. Mrsslippy bought me this in L.A., so not only is it way cool and geeky, it's sentimental and instrumental to my inner peace. I also own a Harryhausen box set containing a dozen of his films. Heaven.As is my Hammer Horror box set of 25 cult classics.



Transforming Han Solo/Chewbacca. These robot babies transform into the Millenium Falcon, but are currently taking some downtime from smuggling, and doing the Kessel run in less than 12 parsecs.

Just about the coolest toy ever, and a birthday present to me, from me, at the age of 34.

And if anyone dispute the whole '12 parsecs thing', what with a parsec being a unit of distance, not time, it means she's fast enough to get within 12 parsecs of the black holes in the notorious 'Maws Black Hole Cluster', so Han can get from the Off licence to Kessel quicker than anyone. Jeez, do they teach you kids nothing at school these days...



Some books and shit. Key to inner peace is inner knowledge, and I like to make sure I have this by reading up on the important things in life, such as The Marvel Encyclopedia, or an Anthology of Zombie Comics. I think there's a collection of Star Wars postcards from Empire magazine in that little blue box, that I keep promising to myself that I'll mount and display someday. And that Chuck Palahnuik book is worth a butchers Stevo, if you've not read it.

Mrsslippy got me the bear things - they are also tres cool, I've got a Boba Fett one on another shelf that I bought in Borneo in perhaps the coolest geeky retro stylee shop I've ever been in, but due to luggage restrictions, had to make do with just a token souvenir. Mrsslippy got herself a way cool bag from the same shop. We should go back.

So I think I'm well on the way to geek nirvana, I'm certainly a fully fledged geek.

So I will set forth on your recommended book Stevo, seeking enlightenment, ninjas, pirates, and Matahuxee Mime Combine.

And oh look Stevo, it appears that despite only paying a fiver for it, I somehow seem to have ended up with a hardback, first edition, signed by the author.

Now how uber nerd is that?

I love Street View

Have you found your house on Street View yet?

Mine's not on there as I live too far out of town, but yours is, and I've zoomed in to see just how untidy you are, whether you've got anything worth nicking, and if you're getting dressed in front of the window.

Or at least that's what some of the more hysterical tabloid journalists and commentators would have you believe.

Launched a few days ago in the UK as part of Googles plan to Map the entire planet, and the visible universe, there are now 25 cities in the UK where you can place yourself on a computer street and have a 360 degree view of the world around you.

Don't believe me? Here's where I went to school.



I can pan the camera round to the right and head up to the bus stop to wait for a ride home..



...or pan round to the left and head up the road for a lunchtime pint, for old times sake....





That's no bus stop......fond memories of hiding from the teachers at lunchtime, who were probably doing the same.



You can even see the old man sat outside, and nearly even the confused look on his face as the Google car with multiple mounted cameras drives past. The reason you can't quite see it is those clever people at Google have used face recognising technology to blur individuals, so there is no way of proving just who this is who sat down outside a pub for long enough for a car to drive past on an uncertain date in history (although no doubt Google know when the picture was taken, but it's not displayed anywhere).

But this isn't enough for self appointed saviours of privacy protection in the UK. Already Google have taken down pictures of a man walking out of a sex shop, and another blowing chunks outside a pub, following complaints of 'intrusion'. Another man has complained because there is a photo of him,taken from behind, with a sweaty back! He claims that hehad just returned from the gym (how did he know when it was taken?). As it's the drive of his house, it's clearly him, and now the rest of the world thinks he's a sweaty fucker?

Well guess what? Only your neighbours know it's you - we have no idea who you are. And if the sweaty cap fits, wear it. If you're really quite a fragrant, hygienic soul, then I'm sure all your mates will know that you've just been buffing up (but next time, please get washed and changed before you drive home Mr Stinky).

All acts occurred in public places, and probably weren't the first or last episodes for any of the gentleman. I could photograph them and stick them on my website - quite within my rights. But if people with blurred out faces can refuse to have their image displayed, are we walking down a slippery slope of censorship? With so many of us using digital cameras, and posting our pictures onto the web for all to see, what is to stop your genuine tourist snaps being censored simply because a complete stranger has spotted themselves in the background, scratching their bollocks?

And it doesn't stop there! The Daily Mail would have us believe that paedophiles are trawling Google Maps looking for houses with toys in the front garden so they know where to find children! Now I don't know any paedos, but I'm guessing they'd have to be either very fucking lazy, or very fucking stupid if their most effective way of stalking and plotting is to look at gardens street by street. America's version of Streetview has been available for a couple of years - plenty of time for kids to grow up or move house.

So I'm sure as time goes on, more and more images will be removed, and more and more will the average person no longer be allowed to point their camera where they damn well please in a public place for fear of offending anyone in the background having a bad hair day.

Google Street view is a fantastic application, either to just poke around at the haunts of your childhood, or to get your bearings of what a strange place looks like before you visit there. I had a virtual poke around Washington before I went last October - it really helped.

Don't let the self righteous right wing press ruin everyone else's fun. Go and have a play on it before your neighbour takes down your street because that's their mistresses car parked in their drive.

And for gods sake put some clothes on, I can see your arse.

Get Tweeting

As you can probably tell from the column at the side of my blog, I am part of the joyous community of Twitterers, Tweeters, or Twats, whatever you prefer to go by.

I've always been sad enough to join whatever the latest fad is, so it should come as no surprise that I enjoy reading the minutiae of minor celebrities day to day business.

For those that don't know, and fuck knows how not, it's been all over the media since the New Year, Twitter is very akin to a Facebook profile update, in 140 characters or less.

Whereas with Facebook you have to be friends with someone to see what they're up to, the default setting on Twitter is that anyone can read your updates - they just find your profile, then click on 'Follow'. Then whenever they have a poo, or put the kettle on, they'll let you know.
Or they'll post links to photo's of what they've just eaten, or other minor celebrities they've just seen in the pub.

So how do you know who to follow? Start with the Kings of Twitter - Jonathon Ross, Stephen Fry, and Philip Schofield. You'll start to see who they follow, and if they are a minor celebrity who interests you, click 'Follow' on them. Or see who I stalk, and see if any of them take your fancy.

Some are witty and insightful, some surprisingly normal (who would have guessed that Mike Skinner of The Streets spends his Saturday evenings sat in watching reruns of Jonathon Creek while eating Haribo Tangfastics - which he keeps in the fridge as they improve the flavour).

Some use it as a forum for raising awareness of social injustice, others to shamelessly whore out their latest tv show/book.

And some just talk bollocks.

If you're not on it yet, here's a selection of top Twitterers, and the sort of stuff you're missing!

Stephen Fry
King of Twitter. Tweets several times a day, often with a picture attachment. He's just been whale watching in America. Often replies to his followers, but with around 300,000 of us, don't expect to be chatting to him any time soon.

Adam Woodyatt
Ian Beale like's Liverpool F.C., cinnamon lattes and Amir Khan. Failed to assemble a twin heater for his greenhouse last week because all the holes were drilled wrong.

Graham Linehan
The man behind Father Ted and The IT Crowd got quite rightly right pissed off with the Sunday Express for their shameful story on the Dunblane survivors. Usually pretty cheery, and likes a game of cards.

Tim Lovejoy
Appears to have no thoughts or opinions of his own, instead just posting links to his own website, or asking what 'other celebrities' are having for lunch.

Richard Bacon
Never eats at home, but will always post a photo of what he is eating at whatever restaurant he is at. Quite like to get pissed on a Friday night with...

Danny Wallace
Mr Yes Man is funny and charming. Funny links and wry observations abound.

Philip Schofield
Crown Prince of Twitter. Too many updates on the Ice Dancing for me, but a funny man, and very fond of the wine. Drinks like a fucking fish by the look of it.

Charlie Brooker
TV's Mr Nice doesn't post very often - probably because he couldn't contain his vitriol within 140 characters, but will send links to the columns he writes for the papers, which are always hilarious, as are the blogs of...

Richard Herring
Of Fist of Fun fame. Has been blogging every day for 5 years. Some are just diaries, some are wildly offensive (ie fucking hilarious), but if you want the really mucky/offensive stuff, download his podcasts with Andrew Collins.

Jonathon Ross and Jane Goldman
Wossy and ferretprincess (their twitter names) will even Twitter to each other when they're in the same house. Feels like listening in on a private conversation, but as you know, with JR nothing is private.

OK, so it's a bit sad to do it in the same house. Mrsslippy and I would never do that, and the only reason we were Skyping each other in the same room earlier was to check if we could, not just because it was silly fun.

So get Tweeting, you never know what you're missing - this just in! Chris Moyles is off to eat apple pie and ice cream

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

My best Latin for 'Who will watch the watchers?'

I'll tell you.


Me.


We're two weeks away from what must be heralded as geek comic fanboy nirvana. Bigger than X-Men, darker than Batman, on 6th March 2009 we finally get to watch.....

Watchmen.



Said to be unfilmable, and tossed around in preproduction/film rights hell for the past 20 years, the Citizen Kane of comics is upon us.

Originally written as a 12 part series in 1987 by Alan Moore, with art by Dave Gibbons, then compiled into a graphic novel, it's the only book of it's genre to make the Time 'All time top 100 novels' list.

In a late '80s America, history has not been written as we remember it, largely due to emergence of 'masked vigilantes' in the late 40's. Normal men and women, not the freaks and genetic mutations of the Marvel Universe, save for one man....It's Doctor Manhattan, one of the most deep and complex (ex)humans ever conceived who changes the events of the Vietnam war, and now Nixon's in power, and vigilantes are outlawed. Old and paunchy, they're trying to have normal lives.

Sound familiar Incredibles fans? Check your dates again. Been there done that by Moore. Not that Brad Birds film isn't wonderful - it is, and Bird is clearly a fanboy himself, doffing his cap more than once to the seminal work that made it ok for adults to buy comics. Check out the reference to the dangers of heroes in capes for one.

Whether you call it a comic book, or the far more grown up 'graphic novel', there's one thing that is unarguable - it's fucking awesome.

I've already read the magazine articles, and seen the trailers, and on the careful lookout for spoilers. I don't know why - I've read it countless time - I know what happens (but I won't tell!)

King of the ubergeeks Wil 'don't call me Wesley' Wheaton has already seen it, and although I'm jealous as hell, I'm wary of checking out his blog just in case he lets something slip. He warns of spoilers at the top of the page, but are they spoilers for the uninitiated, or for fanboys? Best not to check....

But he does love it, and that's enough of a recommendation for me. I don't think Jonathan Ross has seen it yet - he would have been all over Twitter with it if he had, and I'm sure he'll love it too.

Check out the trailers - they are just beautiful (if dark and disturbing can be beautiful). And if you have time I urge you to go buy the book and read it NOW.

This could just be the greatest geek film of all time (sorry Mr Lucas), at least until James Camerons Avatar comes out...

Stick on your Rorchach mask, your Niteowl goggles and your Comedian pin....




It's time to watch the Watchmen

Woes of Warcraft

I read somewhere today that World of Warcraft is the largest MMORPG in the world with over 12million monthly subscribers, but don't count me.


No sir.


I'm clean.


I won't touch it.


Dirty habit.


But it wasn't always so........

For those who have never played it, don't, for those that do - you can quit. I've been there, and it was hard, but it can be done.

I stumbled upon WOW a few years ago after reading an article on BBC online, and the inner geek in me that used to paint Games Workshop figurines thought 'Yeah, that looks sort of fun. If I'm at a loose end of an evening I could probably immerse myself in that.'

But I didn't so much immerse myself as strap on a scuba tank, drysuit, as many lead weights as I could attach to my body, and allow myself to be dragged to the bottomless fathoms of the sea that separates the mighty continents of Kalimdor and Eastern Kingdoms.

I've never been the type of gamer that seeks the adrenaline of racing or sports sims - far too much concentration involved, but here was a game where I could just pootle about, and it didn't matter if my Avatar just sat on his arse for 10 minutes while I smoked a tab, or went searching in the kitchen for more wine.

I started as an Orc (always the bad guys for me), and as I got familiar with the geography, and the easiest ways to level up, started again with a few different characters. Each had different trades, and before long I had my own little cottage industry with avatars making and sending bits of kit to each other to further each other in the game.

But all this was starting to take it's toll on my ability to function as a human being. If mrsslippy was on a night shift, I could start playing as she left, but still finishing off that last piece of a quest, or the last few k of XP to level up at 4 in the morning, with my own shift starting at 7am. I was in trouble, but neither knew nor care.

Who among you has ever really wasted a day....... and I mean really wasted.

And of your own volition?

A day sleeping is not wasted - for you probably needed it, and have recharged your batteries. A day watching shite on telly is not a waste, for you may have found some simple pleasure or entertainment in your viewing choice.

But have you ever spent 6 solid hours wandering around a virtual field (just outside Booty Bay for those of a curious disposition) killing virtual countless gorillas so you can;

• skin them for virtual leather to make a nice virtual jacket to give to your virtual alter ego
• sell the rest of the virtual leather for virtual gold to buy a nice virtual sword for yourself
• Level yourself up from 40-41

I thought not.

I mean, don't get me wrong, Staanglethorn Vale in general is a great place for a skinner, so it's virtual quids in, but levelling from 40-45 is a grind, and that's exactly what it's called. Grinding.

Those who are familiar with the excellent South Park parody will have seen the boys grinding boars in Tirisfal Glades so they could level up enough to beat the guy who was killing everybody. It can't be done, you'd need to move to a new location every few levels where the beasts gave you a slight challenge, but in principle it's spot on. You don't sleep, you don't see anyone, you eat crap, and eventually you're tough enough to do the quest in hand....until the next one.

But you needn't do it alone! That's the whole fun of it surely? With all those other players you can find like minded souls to assist you in your quests so you wouldn't have to grind! I did con one friend into buying it (sorry Bellus- you're probably Level 80 now), but mostly I played alone.

'What's the point of a multiplayer game that you play alone?' I hear you cry. Well I'll tell you, everyone else that plays WOW, and I mean everyone, is a cock. They have nothing better to do with their lives than to play online dressing up. Not me though. I was still very much living in the real world.

Maybe cock is a bit harsh, but players tend to fall into two camps;

1. Those who are experienced who 't1p3 n teh l337', and generally shout at you for aggroing/not aggroing, using wrong attacks etc
2. Those who are not experienced who act as magnets to any prowling mob (monster/enemy), and who pick fights with everyone assuming you will save them.

So that's it. Everyone is either better than you, or worse than you, and neither are fun to play with, ergo they are all cocks.

I can cope with a dressing down at work if I know I've done something that has let people down, and the consequences are severe, but to be ripped apart by a 13 year old from Sweden because you healed yourself rather than him (if I'd died they'd have summoned me back, but without him, no summon for anyone etc....) is a bit lame. And you can guarantee that before you get to the bit of the Dungeon with the Quest you need, he's got what he came for, and his mum makes him log off to do his homework.

But I was hooked. And it's the worst addiction in the world. You know there's no physical dependency, but when you get in, the first thing you want to do is log in and get questing. Ten more minutes turn into 5 more hours, and you're days off turn into a Lost Weekend in neither Manhattan nor Amsterdam. Empty wine bottles and crisp packets on the coffee table and overflowing ashtrays. Scattered crumbs and ash making the laptop keys crunchy and unresponsive.......

My lucky break came just over a year ago when my laptop and Credit Card died at roughly the same time. After a day of reloading software onto a new laptop, I decided to leave the WOW discs on the shelf, and have a few days off.

When the Credit Card expired later that month, I had still not loaded the game, and was suddenly aware (following an email from Blizzard) that my DD subscription was no longer going through.

'Perfect' thought I. 'It truly is a sign I should stop'.

And stop I did.



For 6 months.


Another email from Blizzard informed me that as I had not used my account for 6 months my characters would be deleted!

Oh noes!


All that virtual gold and virtual treasure in my virtual Bank! All those hours played will have been wasted and wiped away. There was only one thing for it - I would have to load the software, pay for a months subscription and play for a few minutes, just to keep my virtual characters virtually alive!

So that's what I did. I'd broken the habit, and been sucked back in with an 'it will all have been for nothing' suggestion.

Now at the moment I'm trying, and succeeding at giving up smoking. If I had one now I know how dirty and disappointed with myself I would be, and that's exactly how I felt.

I unloaded the software, and vowed never to reload it. Those hours were already wasted. Nothing could bring them back, and shelling out for another months subscription would not be honouring their memory, it would be shitting on it.

Another 6 months down the line, and another email from Blizzard. The discs are still in their box.

So please be upstanding and raise your glasses to the memories of Garomero, Muftak, Porkins, Markkymoo, Maxi et al. Brave soldiers who stole over 1,500 hours of my adult life. Taken from their virtual lives, to virtual death.





Slippymark has not played World of Warcraft for 7 months. He has not had a cigarette for 8 weeks.