Finding Developers

We are getting very close to actually spending some money on Project Dennis. The problem is, who do we give it to? Searching for Web Developers on the, err, Web is a minefield. Search engines spew out acres of information, but we don't really want acreage, we want informed decision making.

Follow the links? Follow the sponsored links? Trawl the message boards? Guess from their own websites? Find reviews (but written by whom? and when?)? That one looks good, but they're based in Mumbai. This one has a nice name, but will they deliver? I guess I should ask people who know about these things, but how would I know if one opinion is better than another. i can't ask everybody...

The thing is, it's not just about developers, the problem exists with everything and anything. What's the best hosting company for our requirements? What's the best recruitment company? What's the best place to open an office? What's the best place to live? What's the best restaurant? What's the best hotel? Best bank? Best charity? Best beer? Best social-networking site? Best excuse for not turning up for work? Best pet? Best school? Best artist? Best footballer? Best blog?...

Now, if someone could just build a website that gathered everyone's opinion (on anything and everything) in an engaging manner that encouraged contribution, and used a clever algorithm to ensure that experience and age (of opinion) mattered, and organised it in a way that made it incredibly simple to filter all that infomation to deliver it in an order that made sense to the enquirer, you'd have a perpetually up-to-date resource of, well, everything.

Hang on a minute...

Nope, still can't get it into 20 words or less. Ah well, when it's built the first thing I'll use it for is finding a developer to build it. Ah. OK, just a couple more creases to iron out, Dennis.

The Torture Of The Lack (Of Sleep)

Reported to be the most painful device employed by the Spanish Inquisitors, The Rack stretched its victims until their bodies came apart at the seams.

Dismembered is approximately how I feel this morning after two nights on orangepeel & Head Teach's pull-down spare sofa bed. I have now affectionally named this ferocious piece of furniture "The Lack", since it is clearly deliberately designed to encourage sleep deprivation.

Where most beds have rest-promoting, comfy padding, The Lack has two sharp-edged iron bars, meaning there are only two positions that one can possibly adopt for more than two minutes. One is a cramp-inducing ball in between the two bars, and the other is hanging half out of the 'bed' altogether.

I am not the first visitor to suggest a swift trip to Ikea would be in order, however, my dear hosts are more than happy with their spare dungeon. Apparently The Lack is very effective at discouraging imposing guests from outstaying their welcome. No sh+t...

21st Century Torture Device: "The Lack"

Medieval Torture Device: "The Rack"

Phriday Photo V

They take civil misdemeanours very seriously sausageside. If you do not know all the rules or code of conduct, rest assured it will not take long for someone to take time out of their otherwise busy schedule to tell you off. Reprimanding others (and especially Auslanders) is kind of a national pastime. An enthusiasm admonishment, the like of which I haven't witnessed since my O-level Geography master used to bark his way through classes.

Car horns are fitted and used for one purpose only: to express annoyance at other road users who do not recognise their superiors and cede right of way immediately under all circumstances.

If you step out of line as a pedestrian it means that you a) don't know the rules, b) are clearly an Auslander, and c) are therefore an entirely valid target for bristling contempt (I swear I hear irascible bicycle-bell pinging in my sleep). If you dare to cross a road when the red man is on (whether or not there is a single car within 100km is totally irrelevant) it will be to a chorus of tuts, snorts and of course the occasional, lengthy castigation, followed by a member of the Schutzpolizei popping out from behind a lamp-post to fine you ten Euros...

The fearsomely world-reknowned crack Polizeitotalpedestriancontrolsquad on manoeuvres

Another Day At A Medium-Sized International Investment Bank (III)

Monday. Email: please can we convene to discuss an immediate problem with mission-critical implications?
Tuesday. ...
Wednesday. ...

Of all the various CYA political ploys, side-stepping stratagems and decision-avoidance tactics employed in the perpetual management bun-fight, the one that really, really gets up my nose is "if in doubt, maintain radio silence." If it's tricky, ignore it. Pretend it never arrived...

Now, I have no doubt that in the gazillion messages that whiz around the Internet a few get eaten by the gremlins (they could even be the same ones that hid Jay's linen ;-). But the truth is the delivery rate must be as close to 100% as makes no difference. And it's funny that it's never the emails with humourous youtube clips, or the Ebay purchase confirmations, or invitations to lunch that go astray. Nope, it's only the ones that contain specific, important, urgent requests for decisions or action that seem to mysteriously fail to arrive. Even though I can see it sitting there in my Sent folder...

At the Super-Kamiokande detector in Japan physicists have spent billions of dollars and 12 years trying to find evidence of nucleon decay - proof that things can simply and spontaneously cease to exist. They should try working here.

Dr: "Who's the patient, nurse?"

Nurse: "Herr Gitschleimer. Middle-manager at a medium-sized investment bank."

Dr: "I see. Contusions and laceration to the side of the head... requires surgery for foreign body extraction... What happened?"

Nurse: "Apparently told one too many porkies. Tried to bullsh+t a slightly unstable spot monkey that he hadn't received an important email. Had a wireless bluetooth headset ripped out of his ear and brutally inserted.."

Dr: "Thanks, nurse. I get the picture."

Homing Heifers

I am having a little difficulty getting my head around the stories this week that scientists have suddenly discovered that cows have a tendency to align themselves magnetically.

It's not so much the phenomenon itself (although if true, intuition would suggest that someone might have noticed this before). Nor is it really that someone actually postulated such a hypothesis ("We were wondering if large animals have such a magnetic sense" said Dr Sabine Begall from the University of Duisberg-Essen (uh-huh..)). Scientists are supposed to think laterally and ponder such things...

It's more that someone managed to find the resources to deploy an unspecified number of researchers on the task of searching thousands upon thousands of Google Earth images of grazing cattle from hundreds of sites around the globe to gather the necessary body of evidence required to advance such a claim. "Sometimes it took hours and hours to find some pictures with good resolution, and it was difficult to tell the head and rear of the cattle." said Dr Begall.

Amazing. It's equivalent to paying our trading staff to spend hours and hours of their valuable time on the internet playing Ebay, instead of trying to figure out their USD/ARS from their elbows.

What's that UDH?... Oh, well, I suppose it depends what sort of contract they are on.

Scientists uncover direct evidence of cows displaying animal magnetism

(Incidentally, I wonder how access to a website such as animalmatingzone.com comes to be blocked at a medium-sized international investment bank. The mind boggles...)

French Enlightenment

Despite the Anglican predilection for poking fun at them, there is much to envy about the French. They have the best language, the best food, the best wine and now, brightening up the terribly mundane world of geopolitics, the best first lady. And when it comes to enlightenment, their greatest gift has been teaching us how to think laterally (I'm not gonna argue that point, just run with me here).

When it comes down to it, critical thinking and skepticism of the establishment trumps religion and dogma every time... even the elaborately dressed common-sense kind popular in central Asia. Be honest, who would you rather have round for dinner?

I know what you're thinking, your holy lamaness, but it ain't gonna happen...

Bring It On Monday!

While exercising the underexercised hairy one yesterday morning, a little pseudo-philosophical 'carpe-diemesque' mantra spontaneously emerged in my head. I rushed home to scribble it down, and it shall be my 'Weltanschauung' henceforth. Well, at least until lunchtime...

"We are one day closer to either success or failure. What we do today will make the difference..."

Damn. It sounded so much better in my head.

Food For Thought

An exciting day in the Somnambulist household.. Sparkly Aph has her first professional party catering job and "Food For Thought" is born...

The UDH family are the lucky guinea pigs, sorry, cusomters. UDH boy, you'll have to give us some honest feedback ;-)

"Food For Thought" - yum!

Constructing Dennis

Full-on project planning weekend...

My favourite film is "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" (p-i-g orangepeel got me tix for Spamalot for my 40th birthday - brilliant! ;-D ), and one of my favourite scenes is the Trojan rabbit assault on the French castle... I spent 10 mins on the web looking for a sound file of the chopping / sawing / hammering noises to post here and give the impression that a lot of invisible work is going on.

Then I thought perhaps the time could be better used actually working, so I leave you with your fertile imagination...

"I do have another plan, my Lord..."

Phriday Photo IV

A trader I used to work with had a favourite saying when things were going his way... "I'm happier than a dog with two ++++s!"

Diphallic Terata is an extremely rare condition. Partially in the sense that very, very few people are born with it, and partially in the sense that it's one of the few physical deformities that it is not really necessary to to feel overwhelmingly sympathetic for those blessedeee congenital sufferers.

Political correctness gone potty...?

All Quiet On The Sausage Front

The mini-Somnambulists headed back to Blighty yesterday, in preparation for another year of synaptic development and sporting achievements (no red-cards in the front row this year mini-S II, please!) on their road to becoming full-blown Somnambuclones. Even the extra spare one went back to Ireland.

As usual, it becomes very quiet and sullen around the camp fire. Even the underexercised hairy one mopes about for a few days... They'll be back, though. Bigger, stronger and probably smellier ;-)

'Til half-term mini-surfdudes!

Training Trainee Traders

The problem with graduates is that by the time they come within 10ft of a trading desk, they have invariably had the worst preparation possible. Sure, they may have brains the size of Andorra, a collection of economics degrees, 47 A levels, speak 12 languages and been chairman of the Uni debating club. But this is all part of the problem...

By their early 20s they have simply gotten used to being brilliant at everything. They pass every exam, they make every team, they get all the girls. Everyone they have ever met - family, friends, teachers, team-mates, career advisors - has told them over and over again how brilliant and special they are. They envisage trading in the financial markets as the next box to tick. After all, how hard can it be, it's just a bunch of numbers, right?

"Give me some trading limits on day 1 and by month end I will be the new George Soros." When you do actually give them trading limits, and take great pains to explain that they are expected to lose money at first (unless they actually ARE the next George Soros), they usually sort of guffaw, and you can read the quiet "ha-ha.. I'll show this old fuddy-duddy!" thoughts that flash across their faces. Humility is in short supply.

In light of this it becomes terribly, terribly difficult for them to admit it when they have made a mistake. No matter if the error is small (who spilt coffee on the keyboard?), medium (who just told our best customer to call DeutscheBank for a price?), or relatively gargantuan (who just bought 2 tonnes of Platinum instead of selling 2,000 ounces of Silver?). They either pretend they had nothing to do with it, or if evidence is incontrovertible, they try to bore you to tears with a verbose catalogue of mitigating circumstances, while explaining that the problem was actually the result of a communication / system / procedure / training / management-directive error...

Rare moment in which a trainee trader tells it like it is...

(thanks again for the pic, Trywalker ;-) )

By Jove!

At the same that the Somnambulistic hordes were leaving a locust-like trail of consumption and carbon around exotically-named villages in Southern England, our largest planetary neighbour was arcing it's way majestically across the heavens. At the beginning of the week, from Flushing in Cornwall, it occasionally appeared as a bright, fuzzy star between ominous rain clouds (or it could have been between pints of Doom Bar). By the week's end, on a clear night over Curling-Tye-Green in Essex, with a pair of mini-binoculars, it could be made out as a solid object.

Jupiter wasn't the only thing coming into focus. In a similar vein, last week's road trip was a valuable exercise in developing the Project Dennis concept pitch. Having to explain the game plan to numerous complete strangers (well, people I haven't seen for a very long time), plus the occasional interested party, helped a great deal in starting to bring the spiel into a more concise resolution.

Admittedly, we still have a bit of wood to chop here. All the start-up help guides seem unanimous on one thing: if you can't explain the very essence of your idea in 10 seconds you may as well give up and go back to selling second-hand video recorders.

I would say that we are probably down to about 30 minutes. It seems to me that if I have someone's undivided attention for about half an hour, I have a convert. Anything less than that and I invariably have a confusion.

We have a final concept workshop planned for the end of next week, and, By Jove!, see if we don't have a full-colour, 63-mooned, red-storm-sporting gas giant of a pitch by the end of it.

(I'll still need more than 10 seconds though!)

Somnambulists Ramble Home

Back at last! Apologies for the sporadic updates (all complaints have been duly logged and filed), and the even more sporadic comment replies. Abnormal service has now been resumed...


When we finally unloaded everything from HM Research Vessel Q7 we had a few count-ups and we appear to be missing a mini-Somnambulist. It's possible that the under-exercised one gnawed his way through the safety bars and devoured him as a light scoobie snack, but I think it's more likely that we simply forgot to check him out of one of the myriad B&Bs we stayed in. No matter, we had a spare one shipped in from Ireland yesterday evening, who bravely embarked on a solo flight behind enemy lines - he's everso polite and I think he will do just fine. I have no doubt the other one will turn up sooner or later, and if he doesn't we'll just keep the replacement...

Mini-Somnambulist I, last seen on a Cornish beach. If found please mail to this blog, thanks.

(Yesterday was a special day for two special people - HJ & MM...wish I could have delivered birthday hugs & kisses :-( )

Phriday Photo III

The bear market will come to an end and then the bulls will be back with a vengence!

A flamboyant hedge-fund manager finds out that selling-short can be painful too.

Pause For Pontification

We are not the only people on holiday, apparently. The pope has got his feet up too. This is great news, since it means I don't have to read anything about the moral abyss that the modern world is staring into, and nor do I have to listen to any poorly reasoned, halfarted apologies.

A couple of things occurred to me while I was reading about his much-hyped visit to Australia recently. One is (and only slightly tongue-in-cheek) that I felt comfortable with him being in Sydney since I consider that to be minimum safe distance from the mini-Somnambulists. Secondly, that there is no other modern institution that could survive the revelation, denial and then final admission of globally endemic physical and psychological abuse of minors by its practitioners responsible for their well-being. The last act of the last head of such an institution would be an unequivocal apology to the world before it was dissolved...

The pontif explains to his blind brother why Tommy Cooper was the best ever stand-up comic.. "And then he goes, juss' like tha'"

Wonder How Things Are Going At The Office...?

I'm sure that UDH Boy, one day back from holiday, has everything under control...

Birthday Dreams

Today is a very important day. Mini-somnambulist II turns 10! In the trading world this is called a change of big figure...

We are having a lot of fun on the road trip with plenty of time on our hands to chat about weighty issues, such as hopes, plans and aspirations. Despite exercising my bestest "expectation management" skills, the mini-somnambulists have already decided how we should best utilise the millions they think we are going to make from the success of Project Dennis. Oh, to be 10 again, when thought processes were so simple: "Dad is going to start a new business with uncle orangepeel. Cool! What shall wespend all the money on?"

The problem for coveting material things is that when you finally get them in your grasp they seem to lose their lustre somehow. Last year, mini-somnambulist II's Holy Whale, and the only thing that would possibly do, was an electric guitar. Three lessons later it was gathering dust in the cupboard :-)

Ah well, we're on holiday, so no harm in a bit of daydreaming. Wonder what mini-somnambulist II is getting for his birthday this year...

2007's birthday pressie gets a rare strum

Hmmmmm... zzzzZZ zzzZZzzzzzz...

...Later, the Somnambulists pop over to see Mr & Mrs K for lunch in
Singapore

Doom Bar

Doom Bar is a deliciously moreish ale that they serve in Cornwall. It is the perfect tipple for enjoying with long-lost family and friends.

Sharp's Brewery says:

"Doom Bar Bitter is named after an infamous sandbank at the mouth of the Camel Estuary in north Cornwall. The Doom bar is at its most dangerous between low and high tides when it is submerged by just a few feet. Unsuspecting mariners can easily become stranded or in extreme weather shipwrecked.Doom Bar Bitter embodies many characteristics which makes it worthy to carry the name of this natural wonder. It's distinctive aroma and very fine balance sets it truly apart from other beers taking unsuspecting first time drinkers by surprise with its moreish appeal. Doom Bar has achieved an international cult status, is considered one of the fastest growing beer brands in the UK and is the best selling locally produced beer in the entire South West region."

Somnambuist says:

"Impossible to stop drinking when having a good time. Probably best to stick to a gallon or two on the first try."

Phriday Photo II

I like the fact that large corporations have PR advisors (or even departments) who devise ingenious ways of promoting their image as a caring, responsible institution. It's such a rich source of humour and irony when they slightly miss their mark.

It is very noble of the Bank of America to adopt the donkeys from the Singapore Zoological Gardens. I'm not sure all of them need to work in the FX department though.

Road Trip

Today we are off! ...Deep joy :-))

We are packing the mothership (aka HM Research Vessel Q7) with all the things one could possibly need for a 10 day road trip - we have bags, packs, golf clubs, laptops, cameras, dvd players, provisions and doggie-treats for everyone. I had no idea we would need so much gear for one expedition, but suffice it to say we might have to squeeze the mini-somnambulists (plus the underexercised hairy one) into the hideously expensive grey whale suppository that is now attached to the roof.

We have enough gear for a month in Outer Mongolia, but the truth is we are heading for somewhere much more remote and inaccessible - Soutern Cornwall.

Can't say I'm not looking forward to a break, and who knows when the next one will come... Probably just as well that I get off the spot desk anyway. Trywalker's looking forward to having his real boss back, and after I made FVJ stand up and shout out to the entire trading floor "I F+++ED UP!" he has been in a bit of a grumpy mood. I can't see why, it must have been the biggest round of applause in his young life... Still while such displays of public trainee humiliation have their necessary place in Investment Bank dealing rooms, ATIA offices will of course be a caring, sensitive environment where everyone sits on fluffy cappuccino clouds and is exceptionally nice to each other...

I will endeavour to make a few posts while on the road, although that will depend upon how far down the Cornish peninsula that the wireless revolution has penetrated...

The Somnambulists hit the road...

"Posh & Becks" Of The Hedge Fund Industry. Que?

The press loves to sensationalise the fortunes of financial markets traders. If you went on news stories alone you would be forgiven for imagining that anyone who has ever taken a position in any kind of stock, bond, currency or commodity is either

A) an extraordinarily talented ("lucky" if you read between the lines) whizz-kid who makes gazillions of pounds (or dollars, or euros, or whatever) on every deal they make. OR,

B) a hopeless, brainless, renegade loser who will bring ancient (well, decades-old) institutions to their knees by losing gigagazillions on one cascading scheme to corner the peanut derivatives market.

Whether or not the press is right about this is a matter of debate. The real problem for the journos though, is that, on the whole, the real people behind such stories are completely anonymous, faceless nobodies, so the only thing that they CAN sensationalise are the numbers. Until now, apparently.

Now, I don't begrudge Crispin Odey (46), head of Odey Asset Management (inspired name, mate), one penny of the 28 million he paid himself. I hope he has a whale of a time and buys his other half, Nichola Pease (44) of JO Hambro Capital something that she can't afford herself. Papua New Guinea, perhaps. However, I think the mainstream press is really clutching at celebrity headline straws by labelling them the "Posh & Becks" of the City...

"Posh"

"Becks"

Oh, wait, I forgot C) above...


C) overtrading, overpaid, useless eshizatoollovingauslanders.

Another Day At A Medium-Sized International Investment Bank (II)

A nervy moment yesterday morning. New boss and new boss' boss (newly appointed deputy board member - no, I don't know what that means either) double-teamed me by appearing at the desk unannounced, and asking to have a word. On a Monday morning. These moments NEVER lead to anything good. For example, it is an office politiks fact that they categorically never lead to conversations that go along the lines of "we think you should have a bigger bonus." They were here for a purpose, and it would undoubtedly be their purpose, not my purpose.

Fortunately, I had removed my problogging apparatus. Investment bank board members expect people in their trading rooms to be a little bit on the edgy side, but as long as they look like they are busy making money and not destroying the bank's capital they are usually fairly happy. Conversely, senior people sitting around with cardboard boxes on their heads probably sends conflicting messages, and might have been difficult to explain.

In any event, the heavyweights ushered me towards the windows, just far enough out of earshot so that even the power-wafting bluetooth headsetters would have to strain to hear, but close enough so that everyone can quite clearly see that a purposeful conversation is taking place. It's visible posturing straight out of a Sopranos script, and you know only one person in the trio is getting their hands dirty...

I was already a bit hot under the collar, but then new boss' boss uttered the most dreadful words possible:

"We want to run something by you..."

Now, that may sound harmless to the innocent blog-reader, but to those that have some knowledge of the world of deviousbankenpolitiken (or to any dedicated fans of "The Sopranos". Or even "Yes, Prime Minister") it's truly terrifying. To translate, this means only one thing. They have had an idea. Worse than that, their idea will have a significant effect on my area, and
I am now expected to offer an 'opinion' that supports their idea, and then carry it out. There is absolutely no point whatsoever in offering an alternative opinion, since it's their idea and therefore we will be doing it anyway, over my dead body if necessary, so I had better get used to it (all couched in nice, friendly, team-oriented management-speak).

The true meaning of that opening statement can be revealed simply by replacing the word "by" with the word "over."

Anyway, I am now naturally sworn to secrecy on the idea, so pausing only to send UDH Boy a quick email to give him the heads-up and the sunbed shivers, I got to work straight away on implementation. Obviously, I don't need to explain who is going to carry the can when it all goes t+ts up.

Blogging At Work

I have been trying to follow Daddy Papersurfer's instructions on how to be a professional blogger, posted over here. Complex as the instructions are, I eventually managed to construct a passable version of the required equipment.

What I didn't appreciate is that problogging is something that requires enormous dedication of time and effort, which is not necessarily compatible with a busy day job. I can't deny that on occasion the ability NOT to be able to see what is going on on or around UDH Boy's desk is useful. All those charts and numbers going in the wrong directions (not to mention the inexpicable dismantling of perfectly operational electrical goods) can be somewhat distracting at times, so retreating into one's own little dark blogosphere can be quite comforting.

However, while UDH Boy is away, someone has to keep an eye on things, as, left to their own devices, the spot monkeys can make a right mess of things. I also got some funny looks from people with bluetooth headsets who haven't seen professional blogging in action.

From now on I will have to restrict my blogging activities to non-office hours...

Visible evidence that UDH Boy's desk is being put to practical use in his absence

thanks for the snap, Trywalker ;-)

New Book

I love Amazon. Choose your book, order it, it arrives at home. Brilliant.

The latest addition to the bookshelf was waiting for me (along with SA and the mini-Somnambulists who arrived back from Ireland) at the end of another week in the day job.

I came across a recommendation for "The Art of the Start" by Guy Kawasaki on Y Combinator's startup-wiki-archive-site thingy during the week and promptly popped it into my virtual shopping basket.

The strapline says "The time-tested, battle-hardened guide to anyone starting anything", and on the inside cover it goes on to say "It begins with a dream that just won't quit, the once-in-a-lifetime thunderbolt of pure inspiration, the obsession, the world-beater, the killer app, the next big thing", which is clearly referring to Project Dennis in everything but name. Only a complete idiot would be taken in by such shameless marketing blurb deliberately designed to draw me in and excite me not just about the book, but about the possibilities that will open up to me if only I am equipped with the indispensible knowledge and wisdom that it contains. I can hardly wait for bedtime...

Fan Aerodynamics

A guest post this morning - as requested, UDH Boy has prepared his version of the FVJ fan debacle. Apparently formal training as an Aeronautical Engineer may prove useful if one is attempting to invent a dragless wing, but is patently worthless for any practical purpose...

"Naturally, there has to be a knock on effect from the profligate spending that the Bank has carried out whilst building a Bluetooth Headset stockpile to rival that of the Carphone Warehouse.

It would seem that the dealing room air conditioning maintenance budget has become the Yin to the headset accumulation Yang, and as the aircon has ground to a halt we have seen temperatures climbing rapidly. Conditions became positively tropical a week or two ago when the outdoor temperatures hit 30+, and so I was delighted when Trywalker decided upon his own initiative to go out and purchase a team fan, for placing on the desk between us.

Trywalker returned a short time later wielding what appeared to be a splendid example of a desktop fan, and he and FVJ set about "installing" the equipment. I noticed a small flurry of activity behind me involving said fan and various tutting noises but, trusting Trywalker, my star trader, to be able to override or at least circumnavigate the complete lack of sense (of the common, rare or in fact any variety) present in FVJ, I left the two of them to it and looked forward to enjoying the cooling effects of the fan sometime shortly thereafter.

Now, things got a little busy for the next couple of hours, evidenced by me, well, UDH'ing away and Trywalker using copious amounts of the trading force. Suddenly, during a break from our battles against the rest of the market, I noticed the temperature was continuing to ratchet higher and the keenly-awaited cooling desktop team fan was, in fact, not on the space where Trywalkers' desk and mine adjoin, as had been planned. Remembering the age old saying "There is no I in 'team'", I stole a quick glance at SB's desk, to ensure there was not a bit of"I think I shall have that fan" action going on, but mercifully SB was in his customary position whilst making fast aggressive prices and keenly fighting the FX markets - asleep at his (fanless) desk.

"Where's that dastardly fan?" I enquired of FVJ (or words to that effect).

"Ah. Uh. THAT fan? " Responded FVJ, in his inimitable 'it definitely wasn't MY fault' voice. I clarified that it was indeed the only desktop fan within 100 metres of our location (the one lying on its side on the desk directly next to FVJ) to which I was referring.

"Broken" sniffed FVJ, keeping his replies notably shorter than when he doesn't think he's ballsed up. [NB. Ask this chap a blameless, open or opinion related question and watch him talk for hours (you watch but don't listen because the bullsh+t deflector ear protectors start working after Dr Ramblers' previously discussed bullsh+t radar has spotted the incoming missiles after around ten seconds). Ask him "what did you do to my " and you get monosylabillic grunts until you go away.] I maintained a baleful glare for long enough for FVJ to ascertain that this time, he was going to have to elaborate just a bit more.

"Wellyouseeitwasn'tworkingwhenweunpackeditandIpluggeditinandthetimerwasclicking but thefanwasnotworkingsoItookitapartandthewiringwaswrongsoItookitbacktotheshopand...." I stopped the breathless diatribe with another 'friendly' stare and before FVJ could get a trademark "but, but, but" response out of his mouth, stepped over to investigate said fan, which upon closer inspection was in several more pieces than is normally expected, with underbase wiring exposed and the base / stem assembly very much disconnected.

"So, ***** (for once I called him by name not expletive here actually, but as our Holey Whale Hunter has deemed names need to be withheld to protect the incompetent he gets 5 stars here, for probably the first and last time in his life) you unpacked the fan, plugged it in, found it was not working, took it apart, ascertained the wiring was wrong, then took it back to the shop, brought the replacement here and have subsequently, I am guessing, found that the exact same wiring fault exists?"

"Exactly!" he replied triumphantly.

"And you deem that the timer is getting power because it is clicking, and that the incoming wiring only feeds the timer switch and not the fan?"

"That's RIGHT!" he almost yelps with glee at realising that I am on his side about this darn faulty fan after all.

"*****, I know you are an aeronautical engineer by qualification, and I never even went to Uni so I probably have no place to question this... but did you ever consider whilst dismantling two fans and finding this same 'fault' that the electrical socket you are using to test it could be the faulty item?"

The blank incoming look that followed is something I have become accustomed to with FVJ, although this time it was mercifully silent and didn't include the normally omnipresent accompniment of "well, yeah I KNEW that already...".

"Err well, no it cannot be the socket, because the timer is definitely getting power".

"On what are you basing that assumption" I ask, knowing and dreading the answer...."Well, it clicks when you turn the dial".

"Have you ever heard of wind up timing devices?" I ask.

The penny drops, with the kind of resounding clang that only occurs when coins are allowed to fall inside huge vacant spaces.

"Weeeeell, it doesn't LOOK like a wind up timer." comes the initial response, although even FVJ has to realise where this line of defence is going.

"Try this other socket here" I suggest, indicating one which we knew worked.

FVJ proceeded to start removing the chest of desk drawers and clambering beneath the desk before I swatted him around the ears and explained we could test the fan in the socket BEFORE we spent five minutes neatly tucking the wiring underneath the desktops...Lo and behold the fan's complicated faulty wiring issues were fixed by taking the radical last chance step of plugging it into a functional electrical socket. The fate of the dismantled "faulty" fan that went back to the shop is as yet unknown, although it is likely to have been "fixed" somewhat quicker than ours.

Needless to say, I think for the safety of aviators and air travellers everywhere its probably good that this particular Aeronautical Engineer has headed into the banking industry at the moment. My loss is probably a lot of peoples safety gained."

Thanks UDH Boy. Hurry back.

Phriday Photo

A little off-topic here but this one has been sitting in the archives for a while, awaiting its day in lights. No photoshop, no pretending, this was taken in a restaurant in Bintan a few years back...

Think twice before ever uttering the words "I'll have whatever you're having."