My landline is not yet connected to broad band in fact it’s fucking broke…yes I called BT (Welcome back to BT their slogan says-fuck off-I say) they tell me through a talking robot that there is a fault on the line but if I want to go online to email them I can!
Yes if MY FUCKING PHONE WORKED!
I sat there screaming at my phone and get told by TXT that an engineer will call at my home Wednesday.
Nine minutes later BT were at my buzzer (was it BT? I ask my paranoid self? How quick was that? Was it the M15 after all my fights at Millbank and very public humiliation of the government in my set and the countless times I shout Al’Q’eda on the phone…suddnely felt like Mel Gibson in conspiracy theory)
So BT man comes up to my home and starts ripped phones and line apart.
me-“Are you M15 and here to bug my home?”
BTman-“No I am here to fix your phone, you have watched too many movies”
me-“Ok whatever, please get my phoneline to work then”
Of course he couldnt as there is a problem with ‘software’ back at the BT head quarters or some shit like that.
So I am internet less again and now phoneless.
Bastards…I am off to buy two cans and some string.
Will talk tomorrow, if I dont then send a search party for me, I have a bit of a tan and run in tube stations often, whilst acting weird. I may get shot in the head, although I am still too white to be a threat, thank fuck for factor 25 suntan cream…it saved my life._