This may turn out to be the most pointless blog post ever written, and that's up against some pretty tough competition. I wasn't going to write this post at all, but then the netbook arrived that I'll be using for the bike trip and I got excited and had to tell someone about it. It's utterly fan-flappin'-tastic! It can sing and it can dance. This morning it made me a cup of tea. It's tiny and so amazingly powerful, like Jimmy Krankie in a MiG-29. I just had to get it off my chest.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Just what is this brilliant bit of kit he's got his sweaty, little paws on and where can I get one for myself? Well, unfortunately I can't tell you that.
Y'see, a few months ago I approached the company that made this little gem and asked them if they'd be my computer partner for the ride, with all the good publicity that this might generate for their outfit. And did they jump at this opportunity? No, they did not. They didn't jump, run or walk nor even casually nod in my general direction. In fact, they totally ignored me. They didn't even reply. Bastards.
And so I bought their box anyway because I knew it was exactly what I needed, but I now feel contractually obliged not to give them any publicity whatsoever nor even to give a single clue as to what the computer actually is. So you'll never know the exquisite, digital lovely that will keep me in touch with the world, allow me to plan my route whilst on the road and guide me towards my degree courses. Well, not as long as it keeps working, that is. If it packs up, then screw 'em. You'll be the first to know what this great pile of shite is. I'll write out its name in three foot high, flashing letters.
So if you just happen to be the head of a laptop manufacturer's corporate sponsorship department and you're worried that my letter may have been heading in your direction and simply got lost in the post, don't worry. It's not too late. I can still tell the world how great your product is. But I know two or three charities that really could do with a sizeable donation first. And my demands don't stop there. I'd like a pasty. No, two. At least two. Just keep 'em coming really. I'll be waiting, pointlessly...
Now, I know what you're thinking. Just what is this brilliant bit of kit he's got his sweaty, little paws on and where can I get one for myself? Well, unfortunately I can't tell you that.
Y'see, a few months ago I approached the company that made this little gem and asked them if they'd be my computer partner for the ride, with all the good publicity that this might generate for their outfit. And did they jump at this opportunity? No, they did not. They didn't jump, run or walk nor even casually nod in my general direction. In fact, they totally ignored me. They didn't even reply. Bastards.
And so I bought their box anyway because I knew it was exactly what I needed, but I now feel contractually obliged not to give them any publicity whatsoever nor even to give a single clue as to what the computer actually is. So you'll never know the exquisite, digital lovely that will keep me in touch with the world, allow me to plan my route whilst on the road and guide me towards my degree courses. Well, not as long as it keeps working, that is. If it packs up, then screw 'em. You'll be the first to know what this great pile of shite is. I'll write out its name in three foot high, flashing letters.
So if you just happen to be the head of a laptop manufacturer's corporate sponsorship department and you're worried that my letter may have been heading in your direction and simply got lost in the post, don't worry. It's not too late. I can still tell the world how great your product is. But I know two or three charities that really could do with a sizeable donation first. And my demands don't stop there. I'd like a pasty. No, two. At least two. Just keep 'em coming really. I'll be waiting, pointlessly...
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