'I'm Sorry, Dave, I'm Afraid I Can't Do That'
Payday came early yesterday, so I was finally able to splash out on a new disc drive for my computer, the old one being so ancient it recorded on vinyl.
The trip to the shop, inclusive of choosing the drive and queuing to pay for it, took 35 minutes. Then I got it home.
After half an hour of swearing and attacking my PC with a screwdriver, it became apparent that I'd over-reached myself. I couldn't even get the cover off. I was about to employ the HIWAH technique (Hit It With A Hammer) when my wife popped her head round the door.
'We've still got the instructions for that computer, you know.'
It was the work of moments to find myself muttering darkly into the technicolour spaghetti inside the machine's casing, and another few minutes to install the new drive and close it all up again.
Power on ...
It didn't blow up.
Nor did the drive actually work, though. My wife stepped in in time to prevent me going Basil Fawlty on its silicon arse, and thanks to her cooler temperament I am now able to type this while burning DVDs, should I feel the need.
But I'm keeping the hammer where the computer can see it ... just in case.
The trip to the shop, inclusive of choosing the drive and queuing to pay for it, took 35 minutes. Then I got it home.
After half an hour of swearing and attacking my PC with a screwdriver, it became apparent that I'd over-reached myself. I couldn't even get the cover off. I was about to employ the HIWAH technique (Hit It With A Hammer) when my wife popped her head round the door.
'We've still got the instructions for that computer, you know.'
It was the work of moments to find myself muttering darkly into the technicolour spaghetti inside the machine's casing, and another few minutes to install the new drive and close it all up again.
Power on ...
It didn't blow up.
Nor did the drive actually work, though. My wife stepped in in time to prevent me going Basil Fawlty on its silicon arse, and thanks to her cooler temperament I am now able to type this while burning DVDs, should I feel the need.
But I'm keeping the hammer where the computer can see it ... just in case.
posted by Pete Kempshall at 1:21 PM
2 Comments:
Picture it: Worksop December 1994
I am taking my house mate home for Christmas and just into the town centre my car dies. I am a poor uni student and have no cash in the bank this far away from my grant cheque. I troll around town and speak to 5 different mechanics, using all my queenie wyle and charm to get advice and freebies (note to self, the 'im just a dumb gay boy' bit doesnt go down well with butch northern mechanics). What do they ALL say without so much as looking up at me?
'it it wi' a 'ammer.....
I am not hitting my engine randomly with a hammer, think I ... surely that will break something? So I call my dad, who pays for AA membership for me. They duly arrive and take one look and declare teh starter motor to be jammed.
What did he do to fix it?
Hit it with a hammer.
People laugh, but I can make most things work by hitting them with a hammer.
Except, perhaps, nails.
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