It's working. Properly. Das Interveb, as they don't call it in Germany. Got me Irish Broadband in the shop that sells it last week. Was acting the bollix for a few days but now it seems ok.
Anyway, about an hour ago I nearly got run over by a speeding BMW. I had to dive out of its way, less Bruce Willis in Die Hard, more startled rabbit, but it was effective and I preserved my presence on this Earth. Fuckin' idiot though, a boy racer with a big car and a small penis.
With my life intact, I can now enjoy ringtone ads, Lee Evans, the fucking Rugby World Cup, popular vocoder music, Ron Blacks, buses, HR, posers, sneezing loudly. empty soap dispensers, stale bread, the lad who does the links on Paramount and cucumber.
Tomorrow at six bells begins my two weeks away from Setanta Towers. Thinking of hitting my favourite place on this isle for a few days, and will toast 5X in John Benny Moriarty's. Surely they don't have rugby in Kerry? Lord God I hope not.
Looking forward to being incommunicado, with the mobile secreted away and the only web in view spider-spun. I've 73 DVDs to catch up on too, at the moment it's the Deer Hunter. Bleak and beautiful it is, much like my holiday destination.