I am indebted to two fellow members of the extended global blogging family for today's post, which was scheduled to be my last before heading off to Beigeing, as otherwise educated people will insist on calling it, for the Hong Kong Welsh Male Voice Choir's very first visit to the People's Republic of China proper, but which turned out to be my first on arriving back in the renegade ex colony, owing to Blogspot being down on Friday afternoon.
First, there was Cess, whose kind comments about my blog and my driving skills took me back to the day – many moons ago now – when I took my advanced driving test with the Institute of Advanced Motorists. After I had completed the 90-minute drive through town and countryside, on B-road and motorway, the examiner, one Hamilton, ex Flying Squad and doing his very last test, turned to me, complimented me on my stickwork and told me I should take further courses at Brand's Hatch.
Being but a callow youth, I didn't take his advice and so the chance to become the Jenson Button of the 80s passed me by. Instead of the dashing figure of Ulaca slipping out of the cockpit as lithely as a used condom to be embraced by Marlboro girls in tight mechanics' uniforms, the British people were subjected to 15 years of Nigel Mansell's limp moustaches (one on his lip, two above his eyes), hub-cap personality and monotone Worcestershire accent.
Then, there wasJim the Painter , whose pop-art audio-visual tribute to Enter the Dragon, complete with Bruce Lee doing his Charlie Chan voice, finally helped me nail this gem from series two of The Office.
This post is dedicated to all computer guys, everywhere.
First, there was Cess, whose kind comments about my blog and my driving skills took me back to the day – many moons ago now – when I took my advanced driving test with the Institute of Advanced Motorists. After I had completed the 90-minute drive through town and countryside, on B-road and motorway, the examiner, one Hamilton, ex Flying Squad and doing his very last test, turned to me, complimented me on my stickwork and told me I should take further courses at Brand's Hatch.
Being but a callow youth, I didn't take his advice and so the chance to become the Jenson Button of the 80s passed me by. Instead of the dashing figure of Ulaca slipping out of the cockpit as lithely as a used condom to be embraced by Marlboro girls in tight mechanics' uniforms, the British people were subjected to 15 years of Nigel Mansell's limp moustaches (one on his lip, two above his eyes), hub-cap personality and monotone Worcestershire accent.
Then, there was
This post is dedicated to all computer guys, everywhere.
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