July 2003 Archives

The man in the off-license on Haverstock Hill has just pointed out to me that no matter which way I stand in front of the security camera, I still look fat.

Bastard.

...and have discovered a few things (and no, I don't have OCD):

1. There is no telephone number anywhere on ebay.co.uk
2. Companies House lists several Ebay (UK) Limited, including one which is an estate agent on Lavender Hill in South London who is tired of people telephoning him about Ebay the auction site (but who was courteous throughout the conversation) and has offered to sell the limited company to Ebay (on Ebay?) on several occasions with no success
3. Ebay have disabled "support@ebay.co.uk"
4. The expert system that replaces it isn't
5. The help pages don't cover problems with setting up seller accounts
6. There is quite a large community of disgruntled users out there (see http://www.ebayexodus.com/ as a starting point)

I wonder, as Ebay is now such a large marketplace and that is it a de facto monopoly, should it be nationalised? Anyway, this post was prompted by this one

I was reading this post about the Qur'an and it got me thinking, how cool it is that Muslims get their text in version originale (or is that wrong?). I've never been a big Bible reader, but if I were, I probably wouldn't want to read it in translation...

Just thought I'd post BT's customer care number here for use by any and all switchboard-jamming anarchists and angered housewives whose membership of 'Friends and family', 'BT Value plus' or 'Triple-Talk' have driven them to take action :-)

I cancelled (well, am currently still trying to cancel) my BTOpenworld ADSL account (because it is shit) and in the process have discovered that after a year of fighting with the installer team, the engineer, the billing people, technical support and customer services, spending hours of what should be billable time queuing on their various automated call systems (including the openworld business line which directs you to the website then hangs up on you) that when you finally crack and send them a written notice of cessation a very nice lady called Alita calls you and gives you a phone number (an 0800 number no less) that gets you straight through to customer care--no queue, no delay, no option-3, just straight through to the nice lady.

So got a problem with BT? Need to vent? Here's the number:

0800 800 871

That ends this public service announcement.

Chris writes:

That's a dating service isn't it?
I'm basing my answer on two pieces of evidence, one of which I feel carries slightly more credence than the other.
1: Firstly, the telephone cords form a heart motif between the two models, signalling a possible romance between them. 2: THE MESSAGE IS A FRICKIN' SPAM!
;-)
Chris

Well, what can I say in my defense, I used to attend the Nuit Des Publivores

OK, so everyone is going to link to this, but I liked it--so here goes: http://www.internetisshit.org (posted at Costa's via the T68)

So I've been feeling a bit un-blogged this past couple of weeks. I'm constantly thinking of stuff that i want to say, but when I get to the keyboard I get all blue and decide not to post--not sure what's going on, but hopefully I'll get better soon.

Just wanted to say for all family members out there that Clementine is now walking proper. Not one for transitions, she pretty much gave up crawling altogether over the space of a week when Nicki spent the week away in Bordeaux. Andrew and Peter have sent us a cd with loads of lovely pictures of Clem so I'll try and post those soon.

If I can get my shit together and move Donkey over to Moveable Type (am running a test version, so it couldn't be that far away) I'm hoping I'll be able to find a lovely integrated scrapbook tool to make keeping the pictures up to date a whole lot easier.

And while I'm on the subject of ads and advertising, I've been soaking in the Charlie's Angels "Full Throttle" poster campaign. The photography is fantastic--as you'd expect from a big Hollywood number--but the art direction is so sensitive. The creatives have managed to find the 'soul' of the Charlie's thing in a big way.

I grew up a million miles away from California in Paris and never worked in a car wash, went surfing or drove muscle cars (though I did make it to a roller-disco in LA in 1979 which was a very strange summer indeed). Even so, I can look at that poster of Drew Barrymore sitting on the bonnet of a soapy caddy in her red jump suit and all sorts of funky associations come swelling up, the hot summers of '75 and '76 when Alain Brouillaud brought his little slice of LA to the Lycée de Sèvres and had us all buying Ohio Players albums (remember the three-gate fold-out "Honey"), or the incessant switching between Donna Summer's "I Feel Love" and Wild Cherry's "Play That Funky Music White Boy (as I type the ellipse I can hear Tom Paulin's voice fade)…

So yeah, so I haven't seen the movie (baby, work etc) but the advertising has to be better that the film itself;-)

Got this piece of spam yesterday and I've been staring at this image ever since then. The expression on the models faces just grabs me. Not sure what's going on--is it a dating service or a mobile ISP? I just know you'll want to download the full-size version…

I recently lost a couple of people's email messages--they were eaten by my spam rules. Please don't put "dug" in your message subject (though that is my name) as messages with my name in the subject get deleted automatically.

I wonder who (or what) comes up with new subjects for spam. I mean, merging the part of the email address to the left of the "@" sign is just plain lazy. Some clever spammers are composing ever more meaningful or intriguing message subjects which (particularly when getting mail on the mobile) cause me to read the messages.

I would have to say congratulations to those writers of micro-copy (or to their programmers).

Tim Kitchin is now online over at Blogspot. He can be completely hermetic--obscure beyond the black-holian point of bending light--and very funny. I shall be visiting often:-)

Happy 14th :-)

I was reading about a new campaign by a small 'hot-shop' that claims to 'own' the feeling of excitement. These guys reckon that their client's cars are just so 'exciting' (and conversely, our lives so dull) that the emotionally starved masses will flock to the showrooms to snap up their latest 4×4.

I think their core concept could be a valid one in the sense that we do have a bit of an unholy relationship with our cars (I'm reminded of my own early relationship with the 4×4). This relationship can sometimes go to some pretty strange emotional places. I'm not equipped to do the Freudian on the whole thing, but I had this idea that maybe people (probably mostly women who are more creative in this department?) have integrated their cars into their sexual fantasising?

I was thinking about fan-fiction, all those amazing pages of text lovingly written about Seven-of-Nine and Katherine Janeway or Josh and Donna--they're so intense, so involved--I mean it must take ages to write all that stuff. So is there 'carfic' out there to match the 'fanfic'?

How long before Jeep starts posting to usenet (alt.death.sex.cars.erotica anybody?) with an army of imaginary advertising agency copywriters pretending to be single thirty-something females?

Several of you requested a translation of Plastic Bertrand's "Ça plane pour moi" (is that cedilla right?) after I posted the lyrics a few months back. Being a helpful sort of chap I said 'sure' but as is so often the case ended up never finishing the damn thing.

So up to the plate steps the fabulous Gail Armstrong freelance translator extraordinaire and generally nice person…

Thank you Gail :-)

(Disclaimer from Gail) Howdy,
I'm afraid I'm swamped these days, so I can't give you a masterpiece, just a quickie.
Here she be.
Gail

Wham! Bam! My cat Splash
Flaked out on the bed, yacked on
Drinking down all my scotch while I
Dog tired, feeling ragged, pissed off
Had to sleep in the gutter
Where I had flash
Woo woo woo woo
In Technicolor.

Off you go! One morning
This fine babe came on by
Perfect doll in cellophane
Hair done all Chinese a plaster
Hung over drank my brew
In a great big rubber cup
Woo woo woo woo
Like an Indian in his igloo.

It's going fine, it's going fine
It's going fine fine fine fine fine
It's going fine
Woo woo woo woo
It's going fine

Off you go! That babe what a piece!
What a rush! Getting laid
On the doormat
Whacked, gone, emptied, slaked
You are the King of the sofa!
Said she as she went by
Woo woo woo woo
I am the King of the sofa

It's going fine, it's going fine
It's going fine fine fine fine fine
It's going fine
Woo woo woo woo
It's going fine

Off you go! Butt out mind it keep your paws off my planet
It's not today
That the sky is going to fall on my head
And that the booze will run out
Woo woo woo woo
It's going fine

Off you go! My girl cut out
Took a hike, pissed off smashed up
The sink the bar I'm left alone
Like a raving asshole
Woo woo woo woo
A total loser

It's going fine, it's going fine
It's going fine fine fine fine fine
It's going fine
Woo woo woo woo
It's going fine
It's going fine, it's going fine
It's going fine fine fine fine fine

Made my morning that did :-)