Chronologically disadvantaged
| On the arcade |
| The Village of the Damned |
| Guestbook |
| Archives |
| Contacts |
| Subscribe |
| About |
 |
| Frunt |
| not important |
| Scaryduck |
Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo "Our - Weewooweewooweewooweewoo burglar alarm - Weewooweewoowee seems to be - Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo malfunction - Weewooweewoo ing." Weewoowee. "I think it's finally stopped." "Thank Christ for that." Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo "Fuck - Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo it." Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Our so-called "security system" (as fitted three years ago at great expense by Shaftem and Runn Security Ltd.) has never been the most reliable burglar alarm on the arcade. I have always suspected that it has a level of sentience - it is certainly jittery as a bag of crickets, and goes off whenever it feels under threat ("Oh no! Late is trying to open up the shop! Danger! Danger! I am under attack! Weewooweewooweewoo!"). However, our burglar alarm now seems to have entered a period of irreversible decline. If it is possible for security systems to contract Alzheimer's, then ours is currently wandering round in its underwear, while eating ivory soap and plaintively asking everyone "Are you Percy?". Picture the scene: Vinnie, Lucy and myself are in the middle of our usual Saturday afternoon routine - to whit, attempting the Guardian quiz while chugging on a few beers. Me: Okay, next question: what is the only country to have a single-colour flag...? Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Me: Bollocks. Hold that thought. And I stomp into the back room to the control panel. Normally, resetting the damn thing sorts it out, until the next time it decides to panic and go off for no reason. Not so this time, however. I punch in the numbers. Me: One... nine... six... four. (not the real code, obviously) Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Me: One... nine... six... four. Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Me: ONE... NINE... SIX... FOUR. Silence. Me: Thank you. Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Me: Crap. Oneninesixfour, oneninesixfour, ONENINESIXFOUR... But no amount of button-pressing, pounding or pleading seemed to make the thing stop for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Vinnie, whose sunny outlook on life borders on the Panglossian, suggested that we should just wait until the battery ran down. Everybody felt happier after that, until I pointed out that the burglar alarm was hooked up to the mains. For the rest of Saturday we took turns punching the code into the control panel. Then we took turns just punching the control panel. Eventually it fell off the wall. The relentless weewooing continued. Lucy: I think this thing is possessed. At this point, Insufferable Jake from the Health Food Emporium of the Damned jangled into the shop. Jake: Hey guys, I don't want to come across as a crusty old kvetch, but your alarm has been going off since noon and it's really, like, putting me on edge, you know? Any chance you can, you know, switch it off? Lucy, Vinnie and I turned and, as one, replied (quite forcefully) in the negative, sending Jake scurrying back to his quinoa and strange-shaped vegetables, leaving a fug of patchouli in his wake. Weewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewooweewoo... Me: Right. This calls for decisive action. Fetch me a ladder. And a hammer. And so it was that on Saturday evening, as the sky bruised and day turned to night, your beloved narrator, hammer in hand, climbed up the side of the Bottle Shop and, Thor-like, smashed ten types of shit out of our burglar alarm. I think that may have been the most satisfying 2-minute period of my life. And the peace! The sweet, sweet peace! (By the way, for those of you who are interested, the answer to the quiz question was Libya. Lucy got that one. I pride myself on not bothering to know that sort of useless ephemera). The Bottle Shop recommendation for today: Givry Rouge 'Les Petits Buits' 2002 (France). A lovely, spicy wine for autumn, reminiscent of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Buy two bottles, and use the corks to stick in your ears if your burglar alarm is suffering from senile dementia. £8.49
An alarming day
17.10.05 13:42
|
baby_otter (17.10.05 16:10) Is it just me, or is a monotone flag just plain lazy? Okay, so green is the colour of Islam but I doubt it says anywhere in The Koran, "Thou shalt have no other colours before green." (in English or Arabic or whatever) as some sort of Commandment. Surely. I mean, even Somalia - the second poorest country in the world (apparently) - can muster two colours on their flag! Interestingly, our alarm code at work is also not one-nine-six-four. Coincidence? I think not. |
|
Snag (17.10.05 17:39) Has Somalia even got a flag? I only ask, because it hasn't had a government since 1991, y'see... I suppose they're probably still using the old one they had back when they last had a government. (And yes, I knew it was Libya. I'm not proud about knowing these things. I just do. OK?) |
|
(17.10.05 18:13) So who's buying the new alarm then? |
|
Neela / Website (18.10.05 00:04) So funny. One of the reasons I love reading this blog. And baby_otter, you're right to doubt that monotone rule, there's nothing in the Qu'ran that says anything like that =D |
|
baby_otter (18.10.05 11:50) Question, Late: What did Marxist Jim have to say about the mangled alarm? And don't spare us the profanities! |
|
(23.10.05 07:42) I'm really enjoying the thought of a security alarm that runs on batteries. |
|
(1.11.05 15:29) I'm so relieved you answered that flag question. I'm not sure I would have been able to sleep tonight otherwise. |
|
den / Website (15.12.06 11:20) he he 
wwwwwwwww wwwww ) |