I BOUGHT – yeah bought an Intel t-shirt while I was at the Intel Developer Forum last week.
Because bum doesn’t have the same meaning in the USA as it does in the UK. Bum here means arse here and ass there. Bum also means street bums. So I was with Rupert Goodwins and he suggested we buy loads of the t-shirts and give them out to the various bums on the street to wear.
Still, at this price tag, maybe we’d be better off organising a shelter or something. Of course with this particular “bum”, Intel is signifying its rather famous jingle, which you can hear here, if you want to.
Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum bum, bum
I WAS WAITING in for the gas man today – the gas man did not cometh – but a special delivery tipped up through the post.
It was a special delivery from British Telecom, that firm has decided I need very special advice to set up my BT Broadband in Oxford.
Sorry, not a very good sunset tonight in Oxford for my loyal one reader, Doctor Drashek.
(Picture above, right now, from left to right: Charlie Demerjian from the INQster [see no evil], Rupert Goodwin [hear no evil], and a man from Intel [speak no evil] who can’t stop laughing – picture taken near the special cigarette factory Mao-tse Tung used to have). Cigarette smoking in public places was banned in Taiwan on the 15th of January this year. ♦
I SEE RUPERT GOODWINS has written about his experiences in Ole Shanghai, here.
Much, if not most, of this account is very very true. We did find a restaurant where he had Yellow Croaker with Squirrel Nutlets. I was approached by an old geezer who asked me where I was from. I did reply “Iceland” because this is an excellent way of foxing someone trying to sell you something.
Look what happened when an old geezer went off in front of me in Ole Iceland some years go. I was dumbfounded and left speechless, too.
Rupert didn’t say what happened, the very next day, after we had visited endless pavilions and rocks in Ole Suzhou. On the way back, on the bus, the very excellent tour guide, who arranged for the sartorially minded to have multiple suits and shirts made for them, promised us we’d be going to the best and oldest restaurant in Ole Shanghai.
This turned out to be the same place Rupert and I dined at the day before. And sure enough, a Yellow Croaker with Squirrel Nutkins turned up on the revolving table.
Outside, Rupert and I surveyed the scene. A beautiful plaque was on the wall, telling us about the magnificence of the Shanghai Old Restaurant with a “total flood area over 10,000 square meters”. This, presumably, is where the Yellow Croakers live, to be fished out at will whenever Rupert and Magee tip up there together. Rupert’s account of Ole Shanghai continues, here. ♥