As you can probably tell from the preceding chunk of silence the whole “I know, I’ll get broadband in for Christmas,” thing has been about as successful as Anne Widicome’s nude modelling career. Not for me sitting in the comfort of mine own home, surfing the net, accessing the old hotmail and posting to the blog. Nope. Not an electronic chipolata for me this festive season.
The main reason being that British Telecom can’t differentiate between that bendy bit in the middle of their arm and the two wobbly things they sit on. Probably because both are really close to their shoulders (given where their heads are). Two numpties turned up on Monday morning – in two separate, grubby BT vans – with no damn clue as to what they were supposed to be doing there and why. Nor would they deign to hang about for the two minutes it would take to call up their office and find out what the hairy-arseholes was going on. No, instead they belched, clambered back in their vans and sodded off, never to be seen again.
So no broadband for me. And, as the modem and micro switches have to be posted out, there’s not likely to be until 2005.