Tag Archives: computers

Let Me Help You Help Yourself With Me, Miles Lloyd

A self-help book, by me, Miles Lloyd.

Words. What are words, anyway? They are just bits of letters really. Bits of letters all joined up to make a word. But some words aren’t words. Like nine. Nine is not a word. Nine is a number. Like 4 or 8. Or 48? No! 48 is not a number. 48 is not a word. 48 is a very naughty boy. 48 stole milk off of a woman and accidentally knocked a child of his bike whilst fleeing on foot. He should have fled by car. Not only is 48 naughty, but 48 is an idiot, too. Whenever you commit a crime, you must always get away in a car. It’s quicker and if you do happen to hit anyone, they were potential witnesses anyway, so you are better of for having killed them.

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How my Mind Controls the Internet or; Hot Dogs! Giant Hot Dogs!

My laptop has been playing up a lot recently. Mainly because it’s about six years old, but also mainly because of all the bestiality porn. If you’re sat at the NSA headquarters or the GCHQ building get your dick out of your hand. I’m joking. But anyway, one of the things that has been wrong with it is that the wireless only connects to the internet when it, it being the whole sha-bang of the laptop and not just the wireless part, is plugged into the mains. and that kinda sucks because if I want to take my laptop downstairs to watch or listen to something whilst I cook I  have to take the pissing leads aswell. I can’t use it though even if I did take the leads because we have no internet in the kitchen because we’re on fucking Talk-Talk.  The only company in the world where if you tell one of their salesman how shit the company is they fucking agree with you. Even McDonalds workers at least try to defend their product.

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Lesbian Dogs are Freaking Me Out.

The dogs are lesbian. There are two of them. A little tiny Bichon Frise and a massive Labrador or Golden Retriever or some shit. One of those types of dogs. Big and blonde. Anyway, the little Bichon Frise tries to hump the big one but can only really grind against a bit of her back leg, what with the height difference and all. Look at her. Duffy. The little one. The pervert. She’s just sat by my feet licking herself and looking me square in the eye. It’s kind of terrifying. A fluffy little cloud of sexual assault. And she pooed in the conservatory. There’s just a blatant disregard of the rules from her. Watching her try to at a Malteaser is pretty funny though. Or salt & vinegar crisps. If you have a tiny dog feed them salt & vinegar crisps. They freak the fuck out.

I sent my application off to Guinness yesterday for my soon to be world record breaking attempt. Well, not so much ‘breaking’ than ‘setting’. No-one has attempted what I am about to do because it is that extreme. People go weak at the thought of such a feat. Grown men have broken down into pissing, crying wrecks and their wives have left them. That’s how intense this record I’m going to set is. What is the record, you ask? I am going to eat 60 packets of salt & vinegar crisps in 2o minutes. I’m hoping to smash that though and get about 80 packets in. That’s four packets a minute. My mouth is going to be fucking alive with burns. Mother-fucker! I just had Ghostbusters paused for about an hour and accidently pressed something on the remote and it’s gone. Gone! Now I’ll never know how Dan Akroyd and his merry band of spook-hunting misfits got on. Well, I kinda do because I know there’s a sequel.

And I have it on DVD.


I have to come up with something funny to say about facebook for a pilot but the problem is Facebook isn’t very funny.It is actually quite depressing.

Example: I have over 500 friends on Facebook but I often have trouble finding someone who wants to hang out with me when I’m bored. This is depressing.

I’m not really sure what to say about it. I use to find it quite pathetic to be honest. A few months ago I was very picky about who I would add to my friends list as I didn’t want dick’eads nosing at what I’m up to and all that so I would keep my friends list down to a minimum.I remember once I went on a ‘cull’ of my friends list to eradicate everyone I never spoke to. There was this one girl whose name I will not say and she’s lovely and everything, but one of those people you have to try so hard to get a conversation out of it is exhausting. Really exhausting. You need to take a break every five minutes. Maybe tag a friend in, I dunno. I’ve sat next to her at party’s for hours before now and the most conversation you’d get from her was a nod and a seemingly forced smile. Maybe she just didn’t like me or my banter, who knows?!  Anyway, I was on one of these ‘culls’ on day and she came up and I thought ‘Well, we never write on each others ‘walls’ or ‘poke’ each other or any of that shit and you CERTAINLY don’t speak to me in the real world, so what’s the point? Delete.’

Job done, eh?


The next day I get a message sent to me from here titled ‘Why have you deleted me?’ (you can guess the context of said message) and I was like ‘What the hell is wrong with this girl?’, but she is good friends with some of my good friends so I thought that maybe she wanted to be my friend in real life or at least start trying to talk to me, so I added her again. after about a week or so I remember thinking to myself  ‘Christ. She did make a lot of fuss to be friends with someone she has no intention of getting in touch with’ but I thought that maybe she had nothing to start a conversation about and was biding her time.

That weekend I had a house party and she turned up. The hours passed and she still did not speak to me. It was a pretty good party actually. It was named ‘Circus-Berzerkus’ and it was fancy dress. I wanted to go as Whoopi Goldburg off of ‘Sister Act’ but left it to late and couldn’t get a nuns outfit on the day, so, working with what I had I had to go as a black and white minstrel. Looking back, this may have been a bit racist but I was watching a documentary about the Black and White Minstrel Show not long ago and it was started by black people, so this eased my mind like it was no-ones business. Which it was everyone’s business apparently as I put the pictures onto my Facebook and immediately got complaints. Only off the white people in my friends list though. All my black friends seemed to find it quite amusing, which I found quite amusing. What a world, eh!? Anyway, at one point she was part of this big group of people in my bedroom getting pissed and what-not and she still wasn’t saying anything to me, despite being off her tiny tit’s on class A drugs. The kind that may you say everything to everyone. Weird, eh? I think some people have started judging how popular they are on Facebook friends and Facebook friends alone, utterly disregarding what goes on in the real world. But not the girl in question though, to be fair.

But I just couldn’t get my head around it. How did she know so quickly that she had been deleted and how did she know who it was? How was she so quick to point the finger at me? Was she Jessica Fletcher off of  ‘Murder She Wrote’? I’m obviously someone she doesn’t think of much, hence the never speaking. So what was it? I needed to find out. I thought and thought and thought about it but all I could come up with was that next to her computer (or laptop, it was 2008 after all) she has a lovely little leather-bound note pad, possibly with a lace or silk tie to keep it shut and inside this notebook is a list of names. Names of her Facebook friends and everyday she will log on and check this list of friends to her list of friends on Facebook and give each one a mental tick (if it was a physical tick she may run out of room for more ticks after 7 – 10 days you see, depending on the size of the notebook, but I’m thinking it’s a small one) first thing in the morning so she can go on with her day all foot-loose and fancy-free knowing all is well on with her internet popularity.

But no! This can’t be right either. This cannot be what she’s doing! It seems like a pretty fool-proof idea, I know, but something about this theory still wasn’t right. It was itching away at my brain and I couldn’t concentrate. What was it?

Bingo! I got it. The notebook, yeah? Say she got this idea when she had 200 friends. That would be 200 peoples names, all written neatly in pink ink, protected by leather and lace/silk (Dave Grohl and Will Ferrell do a fantastic cover of Stevie Nicks ‘Leather and Lace’, by the way) waiting to be mentally checked every morning before her tea. But as she gets more friend requests and requests more friends the list would become all jumbled up. It will no longer be in alphabetical order. Can you imagine having a list of 450 names, the first 200 being all neat and alphabetical and the last 250 being a random mix of ‘Dans’, ‘Nikkis’, ‘Clairs’ and ‘Clarks’? Can you? I did imagine it and I’ll be honest with you. I shat my pants. It would be near impossible unless there was a way to arrange your Facebook friends in the order they were added. Which it isn’t. I checked.

So how did she know? Maybe I should get the real Jessica Fletcher on the case but I’m not sure if she got killed off or not…