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Laurence Inman’s Blog



We know that The Stirrer’s resident grumpy old man doesn’t like Mondays. Or Tuesdays, come to that. But this was the week that got worse. Only Mike (and then Mohammed) saved it.

This has been an unusually irritating week, even for me.

First, a bloke crashed into my lovely Volvo estate, while it was parked outside the house, and wrote it off. Police, Fire and Ambulance arrived and they had to close off the road while they cut him out. He’s had some sort of diabetes-related fainting fit.

Then the washing machine refused to spin, leaving a soggy mass of clothes in the drum which I couldn’t remove because the cycle hadn’t been completed.

Then something happened to the hatchback door on my daughter’s Fiesta.

Then the cord on the light-switch in my bog snapped and it’s in a particularly awkward place.

Then, THEN, my computer started doing odd things. One especially stupid and thoughtless thing it started doing was not printing. Or printing the wrong thing, over and over again, then going back to not printing, and sitting there like a smug git, knowing there isn’t a thing I can do about it because it knows that what I know about computers can be written in very large handwriting on the head of a very small pin. The bastard!!!!!

It’s the little things that tip you over the edge.

The tenth Earl of Pembroke woke up one morning in 1768 and just couldn’t face the prospect of washing and shaving yet again, so he blew his brains out instead.

American kids wipe out half their classmates. Why ? Because their mom forgot to get a new packet of Krispy Blobbers and they had to have toast for breakfast instead.

The car and the washing machine I can cope with. They’re simply manifestations of Paul Jennings’ philosophy, ‘Resistentialism’ the main tenet of which is Les choses sont contre nous. (Things are against us.)

Phone calls to the Washing Machine Repair Centre and my old friend Mohammed (see article 19.1.7) and those problems disappeared. The washing machine bloke fixed it for nothing on his way to another job. Mohammed will get me another reliable Volvo.

But the computer! I just want to fling it through the window! There’s no logic to its waywardness. Like a teenager. One day as nice as pie, the next being totally against all reason.

I am saved from psychological melt-down by a man called Mike.

Mike is a genius. He knows everything. He can fix anything. Quickly and without any fuss. Computers are his forte. Best of all, he’s not one of those cheerful, smiley, teethy people who get on your nerves. Even besterer, he’s cheap.

He can be reached on 07903 833839.

Just ask for Mike.

And put away the valium and the sledge-hammer.

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