BT Are Not Very Good.

Quick one because I'm up far too late - been setting-up a wireless network and foolishly used the wanky software BT gave me to configure the router and card when I'm perfectly capable of doing it manually and have now had to spend two fucking hours removing all the twatty shite it's installed and getting the whole fucking thing back the way I fucking like it. Wankers. My fault though.

This afternoon. Went into the city. Things to do you know. I quite like the smallish town I live in. It's nothing exciting, but sometimes that's best when it's home. And everyone says hello. Which is either quite nice or fucking infuriating, dependent upon your mood.

But I bloody love the city. No-one knows who the hell you are, and you don't know anyone.

I'm walking down Northumberland Street. It's huge and wide and teeming with people.

Many people seem to be focusing their attention on something. A scene is occuring. I lower my pace.

Present at the scene are:

Two student-looking types.

One Police Officer.

Another Uniformed Man.

And a cast-iron bath, overturned in the middle of one of the busiest streets in the city for reasons that probably made sense to the student-types at the time. It has the same effect that finding a camel in the bathroom would. It just doesn't belong there.

As I pass, I hear the following exchange.

1st Student Type (to Uniformed Man): You have got to be having a laugh.

2nd Student Type (talking to Police Officer. I suddenly notice that Uniformed Man is in fact a Traffic Warden): You can't let him [gestures at Traffic Warden] give us a ticket for [gestures at bath] this?!

I keep walking.