Mathew Browne

If I was to say I had 2 tracks from “Chinese Democracy” by Guns N’ Roses (over a decade in the making) on my playlist, you’d probably call me a liar. You’d be wrong. God bless CD leakers.

Here is an abridged version of what I’ve been up to lately:

Saw the Superbowl with a bunch of friends from halls. Unfortunately, the owner of the bar acted like a self-indulgent prick who kept giving his own horrendously one-sided commentary, given he was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. (And I was supporting them too, thanks to a £20 bet)

Saw the Wales-Scotland rugby match with a friend I went to school with, which was nice.

I have to make a presentation about a database I’m working on. Snag is, I haven’t done anything yet - in fact, thanks to a slow moving tech support group I don’t even have the server to play with yet. Unimpressed.

Work is plodding on. I suppose I’d enjoy it more if I had the certainly of a permanent job, but thanks to the glacier-like progression of grants within the funding system, I still have 3 weeks to wait until I know either way.

Generally, life is a little boring. Need something like a lottery win to spice it up. Having said that, I did win £32 on Euromillions last week. (I bought a ticket despite the fact that - according to the bookies -  Elvis Presley is more likely to crash a UFO into the White House then you are to win the Euromillions jackpot. I think I believe them.)

Thanks to yet another administrative balls-up, half of my pay for the month is MIA. Knowing their horrendously red-taped payroll procedure I won’t be able to recover the difference until next month. Helpfully, I pay the rent tomorrow, which will gobble up all of this month’s semi-salary, and most of what’s left in my current account, leaving me totally broke. Great.

I just got up for a walkabout for the first time after sitting at my desk working non-stop for 6 hours and 3 minutes. I wonder if I can sue UCL when I develop deep vein thrombosis? My thighs and lower back are now a mess thanks to my self-enforced immobility. My stomach, too, is a mess, owing to the fact that I only had time to bring a measly sandwich with me today which did not do the old hunger-satisfaction thing.

Tomorrow I leave the house at 5:30 am to join the motley queue of WWE (née WWF) die-hards forming outside HMV on Oxford Street, because the first 500 people to buy the 3-DVD box set chronicling the career of wrestling legend Bret “Hitman” Hart will get to meet the guy at 6:00 pm that evening - an opportunity I simply cannot pass up.

A similar event took place at Hamley’s last year, featuring current WWE wrestler Big Show. I felt pretty clever catching an early (for me, a student bum at the time) tube at 10 am for a 2 pm signing, only to find about 1000 die-hards queuing ahead of me, over a hundred of whom had done so overnight. Suffice to say I didn’t meet him. I did, however, find a place to grab some breakfast, followed by several beers at a pub off Carnaby Street. Then I waited by the staff exit at Hamley’s to get his autograph on the way out. It was a great (albeit slightly stalkerish) idea, except I wasn’t the only one to think of it. In fact, I think every 4-child family within the M25 perimeter had thought of it and descended like locusts when he made his appearance. Big Show came out and shook everyone’s hand, but only had time to pose and sign autographs for the kids in attendance (the snivelling little shits) and bugger off. C’est la vie.

My internet with Newnet is activated on Tuesday, allegedly. Woo!

This is a mish-mash of stuff I’ve been up to. I don’t think I’ll be able to cleverly segue between these mentionables, so I won’t bother.

I am torn between going to see Guns 2 Roses tonight - a Guns n Roses tribute band I’ve been looking forward to seeing - and going out with a group of friends from halls I haven’t seen in months. I toyed with the idea of both, but seeing as the gig is in Walthamstow it makes that job difficult.

Speaking of Guns N’ Roses, according to Axl Rose himself - someone who is notoriously tight-lipped about such matters - GNR’s 14-years-in-production album Chinese Democracy is going to be heard this year. I won’t hold my breath.

Knowing I’m leaving Bulldog and have only them as an alternative, BT tried to covertly charge me £75 to get reconnected, then had the gall to sign me up to a 12-month contract. I rang them up yesterday morning, did my best Mr. Angry Customer impression, and they relented.

Angry phone call #2 was to Bulldog, who - despite promising to terminate my contract on December 17th - charged me an extra £60 this month. They gave in (eventually).

Watched Cube, Cube 2 and Cube Zero this week. (And yes, you are supposed to watch them in that order.) They are really very good, and I recommend you watch them. I always like it when I enjoy a film starring a cast of unknowns - I feel like I’ve got one up on everyone else.

One of the websites I’ve been working on at UCL is nearing completion and is looking good, even if I say so myself. Ironically, this comes at a time when my job is at risk - the grant funding that my job depends on is looking increasingly unlikely to come through, meaning that come April or May I’ll be seeking alternative employment. I’m gutted, but I’m also grateful that I’ve had such a good opportunity here, and happy that my contract termination isn’t a result of poor performance or them not liking me.

I was bored this morning so wrote back to another one of those 419 scams today. My would-be scammer, one Mr. Bill Dooru, answered promptly, asking for an address to which he could send me the important documents. I gave him this:

Big Ben LeClock, Westminster Bridge, London, SW1A 0FU, UK.

Feeling happy with my potential scam-bait, I discovered this site, which shows people successfully baiting these bastards a million times better than me.

The last year was a bit hit-and-miss - the relief of finally obtaining my degree (and other things) seems to have been offset by poor luck later on in the year. Must be karma.

The Highs:

- Most important of all: Getting my university degree (possibly the most relieved I have ever been)
- Bagging a fantastic job at UCL
- Dad winning a top-of-the-range computer in a competition run by Computer Shopper magazine
- Dad then giving me the computer as a graduation present

The Lows:

- Some junkie burgling my parents house and making off with thousands of pounds-worth of jewellery
- The Missus losing £600 she’d paid upfront for a Tiny/Time laptop
- The ex-landlord fiasco (though it had a happy ending after many tense weeks)
- Two aunties dying within days of each other before Christmas

Maybe 2006 will turn out to be middle-of-the-road and plodding. We’ll see. Here are some predictions of things that definitely won’t be happening in the coming year:

- I become a millionaire (but it won’t be for lack of trying or desire)
- P2P file-sharing is destroyed by the MPAA and RIAA, once and for all
- I join a gym
- The Northern Line goes a whole day without disruption or delays
- I go a week without being targeted by a charity mugger around UCL or Tottenham Court Road
- I use the “I’m busy”, “away”, and “on the phone” status messages on MSN honestly. (Who does?)

Ugh. Back to work tomorrow. I have to spec, order, and set-up a web server. Which I know fuck all about. I think I’ll be pestering my friend on 7th floor to help me out… I’m not looking forward to actually getting up in the mornings again.

I woke up today having had a glorious 14-hour kip. Unfortunately I’d been snoring so my mouth smelt/tasted/felt like a car had been parked in it all night. I miss being able to do that every day…

It’s been a while since my last post. As I had been ranting previously, the department I work for were all whisked away to a two-day conference at Center Parcs (sic) at Longleat this week. It wasn’t as hellishly unenjoyable as I’d feared it would be, but it was inherently pointless. Center Parcs was incredibly peaceful and tranquil, and mobile phone reception was severely limited so the perfect place to get away from it all.

There are lots of photos of the trip. I could post them, but only if you REALLY like trees. And fog.

Our first activity was a several-hour “ice breaking” session, hosted by two (presumably unsuccessful) actors. I think I could probably describe it best in saying it was scarily reminiscent of birthday parties I went to as a six year old.

One game involved everyone sitting in a circle with one fewer chairs than there were people. The person in the middle has to ask the room a question which rings true for them, then each of the people who can answer ‘yes’ to that question have to get up and sit in a different seat. For example, I could have said “Is there anyone who has graduated at UCL?”. However, I was WAY cleverererer than that, so asked “Is anyone breathing?” Naturally, everyone had to get up and chaos ensued. What I should have asked was “Does anyone think this is a load of bollocks?”

Lunch was a “buffet” consisting of chicken nuggetty things or cheesy bread for the veggies. Plus a truckload of salad. I wasn’t at all impressed with this. I cleared the tray of what was left of the chicken, much to the dismay of the people behind me in the queue. I did not feel guilty. They did have chocolate cake though. I had most of that, too.

Having said goodbye to the luvvies, the afternoon was a “brainstorming” session, where all the academic types discussed where medical imaging is headed in the future. I’m just a lowly web designer, so I was lost. Were it not for the fact that I had a steaming headache, I’d have fallen sound asleep. We were divided into groups, with each group nominating a representative to make a speech about the discussion. One guy steadfastly refused to do it, suggesting the rest of us think of a number between 1 and 8 and whoever guesses correctly has to do it. A very flawed system, considering anyone who watched his arm movement closely as he drew the number under the table would know it was 3. So I guessed 6 and secured myself 2 hours of tune-out time.

Then came the real “ice breaking” session - finding who has the keys to the villa we were staying in.

The genius organisers decided to put five people in three-bedroom villas (one double, 2 x 2 single beds) with two keys between them. One guy decided to sod off somewhere so four of us walked for about half an hour until we got there. It was surprisingly pleasant, it almost convinced me that one could walk for pleasure rather than a need to get from A to B.

The combination of fog, empty tree-lined roads and dim lighting did make me feel like I was on the set of a low-budget 80s horror flick, and some masked madman with a knife was waiting in the bushes to jump out and stab me dead. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. I’m digressing. The four of us arrived at the villa and none of us were impolite enough to steal the double bed. Apart from me. Slept like a baby. You snooze, you lose.

Dinner that evening was pretty good, mainly because they had a chocolate fountain for dessert. I asked the waitress if I could wheel it back to my room. She laughed. Then I asked again. And she laughed again. She must have thought I was joking or something.

The next morning was a huge buffet English breakfast followed by a stupid outdoor activity to work off some of that grease. Teams of four or five were given two planks and some ropes, with which each team had to cross a section of beach without touching the sand. I assure you that it was far less fun than it sounds. Our team (which included one of the heads of department, no less) decided to tie the wood to our feet using the rope and walk across as if we were joint riders on a set of supersize skis. Unfortunately, halfway across I lost my balance and fell - with even less grace than you picture it right now - twisting my wrist on the way down and exclaiming “FUCK!” really loudly. And silencing everyone.

Later that day we had another fabled “brainstorming” exercise to work out what improvements are needed in the department. In a move not at all related to a vested interest, I proposed - then lobbied tirelessly all day for - a full-time web person. I would have felt a little shameless if each group hadn’t come to the same conclusion - which they did. So maybe if my grant funding doesn’t come through in April, then maybe I’ll still have a job…

Center Parcs (sic) is quite a nice place. It’s pretty stupid that were were taken all the way there (a six-hour round trip, no less) with no chance to properly use the facilities there. And by that I mean the REALLY cool-looking waterslide which starts indoors, goes outdoors, then back in again. I would imagine mid-November is a pretty good time to go, seeing as the only people I saw there were delegates from Sainsbury’s and a smattering of gung-ho outdoorsy middle-class types. Which is a lot better than chavs.

Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace is one of the funniest TV shows I have ever seen. It’s a spoof 80’s sci-fi/horror show in the style of The Twilight Zone or The Outer Limits. Fucking genius.

Also. Why the hell is my office so cold? You’d think a “world class” university like UCL could afford some fucking heating. But then, you’d have thunk wrong. I’m wearing my coat indoors and warming my hands on my laptop battery every five minutes like a pillock. Where’s the sodding thermostat?

Looks like I’m going on one of the famed “team building exercises” at Centre Parcs on November 22nd and 23rd. Don’t know what to make of it really. I think I’m unimpressed. We apparently have to leave by coach from UCL “very early in the morning”. Great.

As long as I don’t have to take part in any white water rafting, tight rope walking, army assault courses, or any of that shite I’ll be fine. Just show me the bar and bill it to UCL’s tab. Having said that, I wonder if anyone would actually be brazen enough to take full advantage of the open bar and get well and truly sozzled at UCL’s expense. They’d probably be earmarked for the sack if they did.

I just got offered a Jaffa Cake by some guy in my office I’ve never spoken to. He’s got one of those Jaffa Cake tubes and is currently touring the office offering delicious orange jelly and sponge treats to all. That brightened up my day.

Then my day got overcast and pissed down raindrops of misery on me. The Royal Mail (should be called the Royal Fail) have lost a special delivery containing concert tickets. Despite the fact that it’s supposedly “tracked” and “a signature is taken from the recipient”, the peasant woman at the other end of the phone told me that because they didn’t get the letter back when it went out for delivery last Friday, they presumed it was delivered. Never mind taking a signature, nor the fact that I got a card telling me “we tried to deliver an item but you were out”.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Special Mail Services refused to hand over a letter to my fiancee because clearly she isn’t me. Never mind she answered my door, with access to my chequebook and all my utility bills as proof that I do actually live there. They think they’re Top Secret, like the Men in Black or something.

The Missus tried calling them up to arrange a redelivery and the guy answering got all flustered and was like “I can’t even discuss this with you” then refused to talk to her about my mail. I mean, she shouldn’t even know it exists, right? Like Area 51. Right, so you’re boss is going to neuralise you, take you to Area 51 and let the greys thought-rape you to see how much you know about Mathew Browne’s classified documents. Dude, it was just a letter.

Every delivery firm, be it couriers, the Royal Fail or Special Mail Services, are all Cunts. They should all hand over their businesses to the pizza delivery boys of Caroline’s Pizza. They always get it right.

When I left the flat this morning I spotted a notice advising residents that Thames TV was filming an episode of The Bill in my area all day Monday. How cool.

It’s really belting it down outside. If it rained any harder I’d need gills to breathe. Unimpressed.

Got a brand new teaching pack to make at work now - something about mathematics in medical imaging. The challenge is making that look fun, because it certainly doesn’t sound it.

I’m feeling creative, I think I’ll break out the easel and paints at the weekend. I haven’t painted for about 4 months now, though having said that I’d gone about 6 years prior to that. My last painting was a somewhat-unsuccessful attempt at the Northern Lights. I used Interference acrylic paints, which give a shimmering effect and reflect light at different angles. In theory it should have turned out great. Unfortunately, it didn’t - I painted over the Interference with black and it made the black shimmer too, which is really stupid considering I was trying to paint a silhouette.

I just found out I’m being moved to a small desk on the second floor. Great.