i was in meetings thursday with a couple of volk - lovely of course, as i think all the germans I've ever met have been. there was one thing though - we were discussing usng fuzzy logic systems to clean-up a database (mm - snooze), but the chap was very keen to stress that this was just a stop-gap, a short-term fix, if you will, for the ongoing database issues. in a few weeks, he stated, we will be finished with this near-term process, and will move on, inevitably, to 'the final solution' of our database woes. he said it about eight or nine times across the course of the day. i had to poke myself in the throat with a biro to hold back the snorts, guffaws, howls, screams etc.
so anyway, there i was yesterday, drinking beer, hating football - and yet for a second or two there, i really really just thought, power of football can be so immense sometimes, posh spice just seemed like a nice lady, you know? just happy for hubby i guess (i swear i could hear her hitting all the bum notes in the national anthem though. perhaps for these occasions she could just pout her way through the anthem instead, much as if it were a rendition of 'mama' or 'stop right now thankyou very much').
i reckon that julian lennon's probably my favourite at the moment though, he seems to really want to have a nice old kickabout. same with that rooney baby-man, weird looking bastard looks damn fine with a football at his feet. |
