techno-babble

This week, amongst other things, I have been called an unmuzzled, onion-eyed hedge-pig.

This was soon followed by the accusation that I was a pribbling, beef-witted clanker blossom. (Ahhh, sweet, who doesn’t like to be called ‘blossom’?)

Of course one must retaliate – and I was quite pleased with my particularly hard hitting “though art a wenching, folly-fallen bum-baily”. (Wouldn’t you be?)

I’d love to be able to profess that this inspired retort was of my own creation but, alas, it was the product of something called the ‘Shakesparean Insult Generator’ on ‘facebook’.

Who thinks of these things?

Also over the past week I have been invited to participate in some “mobwars” (the offer? ‘‘Start out as a petty thief and work your way up to be boss of a criminal empire.’ Hmmm…tempting...), and I have been given (what I can only assume is an honorary) "Title of Nobility" at Lady Mellypropism’s court (ahh thanks darling, you really shouldn’t have, what sounds better? Countess Pyjamamel or Baroness?).

Uggh – STOP! I have enough addictions already. (And a ceiling to vacuum.)

I refuse (beyond my humble Scrabulous games) to let facebook take over my life (that’s what I have the Caspi-Man, and my new blogging habit for). And really, at heart, I'm a Luddite, and I fear my brain is already full (hence my complete inability to master German grammar).

Sorry guys, don’t mean to be rude (and the programs offer no way to do this politely) but you’re gonna have to create your respective empires without me (The Terry Day Army might be the exception - BUT only if I get to be an honorary Derro.)