Espana por favor?

We made it back between plumes from Majorca. It was all a little nerve-wracking. Ryanair has just grounded two jets at Belfast having found volcanic ash in their engines. To be honest, I was more worried about the hazards in the cabin. Two braying stag parties competed for the attention of a dozen Scouse lasses on a hen do.

Chanting, jeering, belching drunkards, and that was just the girls. Which reminds me:

Bloke was sitting on a barstool, drinking a pint, at Heathrow airport, when a really beautiful woman sat down next to him. Bloke thought to himself, “Wow, she’s so gorgeous, she must be a flight attendant, but which airline does she work for?”

Being a bit of a know-all and hoping to pick her up, he leaned towards her and uttered the Delta slogan, “Love to fly and it shows?”

She gave him a blank, confused stare, and bloke immediately thought to himself, “Damn, she doesn’t work for Delta”.

A moment later, another slogan popped into his head. He leaned towards her again, “Something special in the air?”

She gave him the same confused look.

He mentally kicked himself and scratched Singapore Airlines off the list.Next he tried the Thai Airways slogan, “Smooth as silk”.

This time the woman turned on him, “What the f*** do you want?”

Bloke smiled, and said, “Ah, Ryanair!”

We stayed in Pollensa. There weren’t many hen parties there, but hoards of old ladies with zimmer frames and purple perms, with veins to match.

The weather was fantastic. Made us realise just how long our winter has been. We’re having a serious think about shipping out. Just for a few months. Just to get over the bloody winter. Pipe dreams. But with a laptop and phone each, why not? Global villages.

Anyway, back home, to the rain and central heating and political chaos. What happened to you all? Clegg didn’t manage to convert all the hype, and you Brits aren’t as liberal as you’d like to think you are.

Tough times ahead with all the Clubmed Countries on the brink of bankruptcy.

What a mess.

We’d all like to vote for the best man but he’s never a candidate.

Back from Egypt now. I think it was Egypt anyway, only there for 24 hours and didn’t venture from the hotel. There just wasn’t time. The meetings went well, orders were placed, and there are more samples and demo kit on their way to our customers. The new products were well received, so we were really pleased about that.

I wasn’t very pleased about the volcanic ash cloud on the way home though.

Several UK airports were closed again. I certainly didn’t want to be marooned in Paris, especially when we’re off to Majorca in 24 hours on our postponed weekend away… Postponed as a result of the last volcanic ash fracas.

(Icelandic Volcano? I thought the dust was coming from Man City’s trophy cabinet!) I think it’s too soon to make jokes about the Icelandic volcano…we should at least wait until the dust settles.

We’ll be missing fall out of another kind anyway. The election looms and as I cannot vote, I am canvassing her indoors. She would of course be mad not to vote LibDem, and no, not just cos it’s all about the orange. However, in our constituency there is a candidate standing for The True English (Poetry) Party.

She’s threatening to vote for them. And I don’t think she’s winding me up.

The Cheeky Girls, famous of course for being the escort of Lembit Opik.



A very happy royal birthday to Queen Beatrix,

As you know, I don’t need any excuse to wear orange,  but today, all the daft Dutch in the world can go mad. I have to get my hands on one of these, uh huh huh:

This is a typical occasion for oranjegekte (orange craze), when the colour orange is a ubiquitous sight, referring to the name of the Dutch royal family, the House of Orange. There are orange banners, orange coloured foods and drinks, and extreme amounts of orange clothing and creative accessories are worn as well. Sometimes even the water in the fountains is dyed orange.

This is a great site to learn more about our weirdness:

And just to finish off, you can see what a class event it is by watching this video:

Chavez chats online…

If you have been following the election here in the UK you will know how important the televised debates have been. The LibDems were nowhere before the charismatic appearance of Nick Clegg on the first debate.

Twitter, and other networking sites went bonkers. Thousands of comments from members of the public as well as journalists and political commentators had a huge impact on the way the second debate was played out.

Politics by Twitter. The internet election.

Interesting that neither Gordon Brown, nor David Cameron are Twitterers.

David Cameron was quoted last year saying ‘too many tweets make a twat’.

Hugo Chavez, the leader of Venezuela has a Twitter account. His first tweet appeared on his chavezcandanga account in the early hours of Wednesday morning. A few hours later, 29,000 followers had signed up. His communications advisors are hoping for 7 million more. And who can blame them? Delivering his weekly TV show Alo Presidente, Mr Chavez once went on air for eight hours and 15 minutes without a break. Try doing that with 140 characters or fewer.

My meeting in Egypt on Monday – very topical!

The Dutch are everywhere…

‘I could never believe in a game where the one who hits the ball least wins.’


Put it like that and maybe it’s time to take up tennis. I had a lesson with the pro at the club and changed one or two things. It worked for three holes and then we were back to nicky nacky noo.

I just don’t understand it, especially when I learnt that Tiger Woods is one-eighth Dutch. We might even be related. I know what you’re wondering – which eighth is that then?

Someone else in the news with a bit of the Old Dutch in him is Nick Clegg, leader of the LibDems, (his mother is Hermance van den Wall Bake!) I don’t have a vote in the UK, but if I did it would be for the Liberal Democrats, I would love a hung parliament, unlike the majority of British businesses polled today:

‘The British Chambers of Commerce found that 65% of 300 firms it polled were either “concerned” or “very concerned” about the prospect of no clear winner.’

And they’re off…

“C’mon Dover, move your bloomin’ arse”

Conjure up the Ascot scene in My Fair Lady… those black and white costumes, the elegance.. every duke and earl and peer is here, and then forget all that, because Haydock Park is to Ascot, what our local chippy is to The Savoy.

We went last night, for the evening meeting. Racing and a Beatles revival band. Sounded great on paper, and was actually fascinating, but maybe not for all the right reasons.

So much fake tan and hairspray, so little time. I was scared. Very scared. The fillies in the parade ring were less threatening!

We were celebrating a great week for PMB. With new orders under our belts for sim cards and scratch cards, and a handset trial in Namibia successfully completed, we certainly can’t complain.

I’m off to Egypt at the weekend for important meetings on social networking solutions.

I regard golf as an expensive way of playing marbles.

Eli is on the golf course. After one lesson with a pro he thinks he is the new Tigerrrr.

A man staggers into an emergency room with two black eyes and a five iron wrapped tightly around his throat. Naturally the doctor asks him what happened. “Well, it was like this,” said the man. “I was having a quiet round of golf with my wife when she sliced her ball into a pasture of cows. “We went to look for it and while I was rooting around, I noticed one of the cows had something white at its rear end. “I walked over and lifted up the tail and sure enough, there was my wife’s golf ball — stuck right in the middle of the cow’s butt. That’s when I made my mistake.” “What did you do?” asks the doctor. “Well, I lifted the tail and yelled to my wife, ‘Hey, this looks like yours!'”

My Pet

Two goldfish were in their tank.

One turns to the other and says, ‘You man the guns, I’ll drive.’

We’re thinking about getting a dog. I’d like a daschund, but I might be outnumbered by the votes for a dalmation or heaven forbid – a pug. No way am I taking a pug for a walk…

Famous last words. We have four goldfish. They love me. I’m the only mug happy to feed them and clean them out. It has to get pretty foggy in the tank before it happens, but I still do it. Everyone else ignores the fish. And that’s exactly what would happen with a dog.

If I was a pet I’d be a cat. Or a snake. Actually I feel more like a hamster, round and round and round….

You can find out what sort of web animal you are by doing a short test on the BBC website:

We’re going to find out what sort of flying animals we are on Thursday. We should be flying to Majorca. Well some airports are opening tomorrow. We might be OK. But who really fancies being a guinea pig up there?

It’s a long weekend following a long year at the coal face. I couldn’t be more delighted with the way things are going with PMB. It’s been harder work than I ever thought possible. But we’re really moving ahead now. Orders and quotations are flying out (well they were!) all over the globe. Our product line is mushrooming to meet demand. Fingers crossed and keep on keeping on….

Popular names for goldfish include Goldie, Spotty, Bubbles, Skipper, Flipper, Angel, Nemo, Sissy, Blackie, Sushi and Fish & Chips.

Everything has been thought of before, but the problem is to think of it again..

The title of the blog today is a quote from Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe.

Wolfie had an IQ of 185.

Albert Einstein had an IQ of 160.

George W. Bush had an IQ of 125.

Bill Gates is up there with Albert with 160, and today Microsoft launched a new mobile – the Kin One, aimed at social networking and the younger users amongst us!

“This is a phone that knits together a tight community of kindred spirits…, the phone personifies true kinship between people, technology, friends and customers,” said Robbie Bach, president of the entertainment and devices division at Microsoft.’

Unusually for Microsoft, Kin will have control over both hardware and software.

By candlelight, a goat looks like a lady…

I’ve not blogged for a while.

Well we’ve been busy here, what with work, the Easter Bunny and a visit from the Fockers.

I’ve not seen my Ma and Pa in a while, well, they do live across the water, and I mean Amsterdam, not Birkenhead. My shoulders are just about back down to their usual position, and no longer around my ears. Stressed? You will be.

What happens if we turn into our parents?

Or should that be what happens when we turn into our parents?

To make matters worse, I’VE GIVEN UP SMOKING!!! I promised I would THREE years ago when I met she who must be obeyed. Hundreds of excuses later, (from me), and thousands of threats, (from her), she presented me with a hypnotherapy CD.


Apparently all the money I will save could buy me membership at the Altrincham equivalent of the Augusta National Golf Club. Hmm, or maybe shoes and handbags. (No, not for me, for the oracle.)

Back to normal now though, and we have some USB HSDPA Modems at less than $30, an absolute giveaway, and superb quality, and as global mobile data traffic is forecast to double annually over the next five years, these little beauties will come into their own.