Good grief.

Silly news today, someone who went to hospital for a minor operation on his head yesterday woke this morning to find that the surgeon had sewn his ears to the graft site. The victim is old and has a generational problem with swearing. What he thought was bad is now so mild it doesn’t even get bleeped by TV in highly sensitive states. So he didn’t see the funny side of it when I suggested that one way of making himself feel better about it was to say, soto voce if he likes, “fuckwit.”

It’s a nice word. Just saying it is impossible without an attendant smile.

Then a while later, I was typing and I wrote “I’m up to my ears” except that my fingers re-arranged the letters. Americans won’t understand it.

Hint: This is an ass.

This isn’t.

It’s not the only stupid thing that’s happened. I tried to do my Christmas shopping at Tesco in the UK. From the house in France. My Tesco account is registered to my address in the UK but my cards, from a UK bank, are registered to the house in France which is where I (mostly) live. So I got my order ready, booked the delivery slot, filled in the bit that leaves instructions over what to do if I’m not in (I won’t be) and pleased that I’d done it all in only an hour or so, went to the payment page. Of course, the card was rejected because the address Tesco send to the card company doesn’t match their records. No problem, I thought, I’ll just add another address for billing.

There I met a full and grinding halt because some idiot has decided to make it so that a) my existing, registered, card doesn’t work because it is no longer registered to the house in the UK where I am registered for Tesco and b) to register a new card address I have to give a UK postcode. The system refuses any attempt to register an overseas address.

This is not an isolated problem: increasingly, under the guise of “security” websites are refusing cards registered outside their jurisdiction. LISTEN TO ME: IT DOES NOT WORK: my UK card was recently cloned and used by a real life person who went into shops and bought things for her cats. And a FitBit like thing, presumably to see how much exercise she gets running when someone realises that data from the card she’s just handed over says “Mr” on it. How, I have to wonder, does she get away with it when Chip n Pin is supposed to prevent it?

So, on the basis that silly restrictions on on-line security don’t prevent fraud, why bother making my life difficult? Answer somewhere a consultant has said so. Fuckwit.

I was reading the BBC website. The BRITISH Broadcasting Corporation. There was one of the ubiquitous sections that “recommends” pages. One article that looked interesting was in a section called “BBC Capital.” I read the first few lines, got cross at the American phraseology (and Huffington Post-like “look at me, I’ve got something banal to say” tendency to let pretty much anyone post articles while the Beeb’s own journalists seem happy to write lists of stuff they have found on twitter) and clicked out of it. The website designer thinks it’s a good idea to have a porn-site-like pop up if you try to leave it, and they want you to tell them what you think of the “BBC Capital” sub-site. At that point, it becomes obvious that, like BBC Autos, this site is targeted at the vast bulk of Americans, and not the brainy ones. Amongst the questions… “where do you access BBC Capital… in a line at a supermarket.”

Dear Americans: this is a line _____________________

This is a queue:

Kill. As in exit.

The USA has a plethora of poorly written junk sites that do nothing except grab eyeballs. Surely the BRITISH licence fee holders who fund the BBC don’t need to replicate this: it doesn’t even have any obvious revenue raising facility. Meanwhile, those who run the BBC are busy spending Yahoo!-like sums of money on talentless “celebrities” to talk to each other. Fuckwits.

Look, it’s not even 8 am yet and already I’ve had enough of a world run by people who don’t think beyond the next five minutes, whose commercial success is defined only by having moved on before their decisions come home to roost.

Oh, I almost forgot: something to fill your stockings this Christmas: check your local site from 23 to 26 December: some of my books are discounted. The earlier you buy, the more you save because there is some kind of escalator pricing that I can’t be earsd to explain.

To all my readers, far and wide (that’s not a comment on the man (?) in the photo) I wish you a very merry Christmas and a happy new year.

Unless you’re a fuckwit in which case stop making my life difficult.

Donkey pic
The other one is courtesy
The queue photo is courtesy

words by JG - The Blog