Greatest E-mail Ever (with diagrams)

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 2.19pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Logo Design

Hello David,

I would like to catch up as I am working on a really exciting project at the moment and need a logo designed. Basically something representing peer to peer networking. I have to have something to show prospective clients this week so would you be able to pull something together in the next few days? I will also need a couple of pie charts done for a 1 page website. If deal goes ahead there will be some good money in it for you.

Simon

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 3.52pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Logo Design

Dear Simon,

Disregarding the fact that you have still not paid me for work I completed earlier this year despite several assertions that you would do so, I would be delighted to spend my free time creating logos and pie charts for you based on further vague promises of future possible payment. Please find attached pie chart as requested and let me know of any changes required.

Regards, David.

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 4.11pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Logo Design

Is that supposed to be a fucking joke? I told you the previous projects did not go ahead. I invested a lot more time and energy in those projects than you did. If you put as much energy into the projects as you do being a dickhead you would be a lot more successful.

From: David Thorne
Date: Monday 16 November 2009 5.27pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Dear Simon,

You are correct and I apologise. Your last project was actually both commercially viable and original. Unfortunately the part that was commercially viable was not original, and the part that was original was not commercially viable.

I would no doubt find your ideas more 'cutting edge' and original if I had traveled forward in time from the 1950's but as it stands, your ideas for technology based projects that have already been put into application by other people several years before you thought of them fail to generate the enthusiasm they possibly deserve. Having said that though, if I had traveled forward in time, my time machine would probably put your peer to peer networking technology to shame as not only would it have commercial viability, but also an awesome logo and accompanying pie charts.

Regardless, I have, as requested, attached a logo that represents not only the peer to peer networking project you are currently working on, but working with you in general.

Regards, David.

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 11.07am
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

You just crossed the line. You have no idea about the potential this project has. The technology allows users to network peer to peer, add contacts, share information and is potentially worth many millions of dollars and your short sightedness just cost you any chance of being involved.

From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 1.36pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Dear Simon,

So you have invented Twitter. Congratulations. This is where that time machine would definitely have come in quite handy.

When I was about twelve, I read that time slows down when approaching the speed of light so I constructed a time machine by securing my father's portable generator to the back of my mini-bike with rope and attaching the drive belt to the back wheel. Unfortunately, instead of traveling through time and finding myself in the future, I traveled about fifty metres along the footpath at 200mph before finding myself in a bush. When asked by the nurse filling out the hospital accident report "Cause of accident?" I stated 'time travel attempt' but she wrote down 'stupidity'.

If I did have a working time machine, the first thing I would do is go back four days and tell myself to read the warning on the hair removal cream packaging where it recommends not using on sensitive areas. I would then travel several months back to warn myself against agreeing to do copious amounts of design work for an old man wielding the business plan equivalent of a retarded child poking itself in the eye with a spoon, before finally traveling back to 1982 and explaining to myself the long term photographic repercussions of going to the hairdresser and asking for a haircut exactly like Simon LeBon's the day before a large family gathering.

Regards, David.

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 3.29pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

You really are a fucking idiot and have no idea what you are talking about. The project I am working on will be more successful than twitter within a year. When I sell the project for 40 million dollars I will ignore any emails from you begging to be a part of it and will send you a postcard from my yaght. Ciao.

From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 3.58pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.10pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Anyone else would be able to see the opportunity I am presenting but not you. You have to be a fucking smart arse about it. All I was asking for was a logo and a few pie charts which would have taken you a few fucking hours.

From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.25pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Dear Simon,

Actually, you were asking me to design a logotype which would have taken me a few hours and fifteen years experience. For free. With pie charts. Usually when people don't ask me to design them a logo, pie charts or website, I, in return, do not ask them to paint my apartment, drive me to the airport, represent me in court or whatever it is they do for a living. Unfortunately though, as your business model consists entirely of "Facebook is cool, I am going to make a website just like that", this non exchange of free services has no foundation as you offer nothing of which I wont ask for.

Regards, David

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 4.43pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

What the fuck is your point?
Are you going to do the logo and charts for me or not?

From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.02pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.13pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Do not ever email me again.

From: David Thorne
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.19pm
To: Simon Edhouse
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Ok. Good luck with your project. If you need anything let me know.

Regards, David

From: Simon Edhouse
Date: Tuesday 17 November 2009 5.27pm
To: David Thorne
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Logo Design

Get fucked.

My Greatest April Fool

In 2008 I set about my most extravagant April Fool, and as today I've discovered part of it saved on my laptop, I feel like sharing.

Firstly, I invented a name and found a photo of an obscured friend's face. Then I spent quite some time setting up e-mail accounts and Facebook for 'Stu Smith'. Once set up I started sending friend requests, and having quite a few conversations like the one below.......

 

<no subject>

Between You and Michael Cheal

 
 

Michael Cheal

12:57pm Apr 6th

who is this???

 
 

Stu Smith

1:51pm Apr 6th

it's stuey michael! ? haha you nutter

you doing alright for yourself then?

 
 

Michael Cheal

Today at 7:55pm

stuey who?? where do a know u from mate?? am sorry but me mind has went blank like

 
 

Stu Smith

Today at 8:20pm

your mind was always blank! are you pulling my leg? i thought we were good friends michael, if you're being serious i think that's absolutely shocking!

 
 

Michael Cheal

Today at 8:30pm

a dnt know who u r mate 2 b honest, did u work in vision or summit??

 
 

Stu Smith

Today at 8:39pm

u know wot, fuk u u litl wanka!

 
 

Michael Cheal

Today at 8:41pm

who the fuck are ya mate where do u know me from, av neva heard of ya, ya fuckin prat

 
 

Stu Smith

Today at 8:43pm

fuk u n dnt ring me wile i windin peeps up hahaha x

As you can see, this was 6 days into the game, and by this point the real me was receiving calls and texts from people asking if I could remember this wanker. Old school friends were convinced that 'Stu' was coming to a reunion!

After about 3 weeks I got bored of 'Stu', and I no longer remember the fake details I came up with, or the password to any of his accounts, but he does get wished happy birthday, has now acquired over 30 friends (I'm not accepting any requests) and is still on Facebook. So, if you want a friend who doesn't bother you, add 'Stu'.

Smile

Why does the sun shine black

Sometimes you can't find your smile

Where does it hide

What could you do to bring it back

Does it matter how hard you try

Or is it the trying that keeps them at bay

Just short of reach

And you stretch to grasp

People will help you search

But it feels like they just get in the way

And though you know

They're helping in their way

You can't let them

Some things you need to find out

All by yourself

And you don't mean to be ungrateful

Or mean to be mean

It's just too hard

To pretend to smile

For someone else

'Cos fake smiles

Make you realise how much

You're missing the genuine

And even when pretending

The eyes display the lie

The heart sees the untruth

So it gets harder and harder

To get to the bottom

Of what originally began

All the thoughts in your head

So you try even harder

And fake more smiles

Which make you see

The lies in your eyes

Thankyou for trying

To help me to find

What I don't know I've lost

But I need to go it alone

Sorry if I've hurt you

Not saying what I can't

Just bare with me

I'm searching for my smile

‘Aint No Grave

At last American VI: 'Aint No Grave has arrived, released on what would have been Johnny Cash's 78^th birthday, and is possibly the most haunting album ever recorded. From the title track through to Aloha Oe, Cash's vocals are equal parts vitriol and melancholia, and though the bass in his voice that made him famous is well and truly gone, pneumonia-damaged lungs lend his vocals a ghostly quality. The album, his 61^st, was recorded in the final 3 weeks of his life, and is littered with themes of mortality and salvation.

Since American III in 2000, Cash knew he was dying and that can be felt through his music, concentrating upon redemption, forgiveness and love, however it is this final album which descends deeper into that mentality of facing death. Though lyrics by late musicians may attain a deeper poignancy, eg. Cobain singing "Man, I swear I don't have a gun", Cash knew he had weeks to live and that knowledge leads to a greater poignancy and meaning. This meaning cannot be overlooked, as it is a rarity to find meaning of this level in foresight, rather than hindsight.

Shame then that the final album is only 32 minutes, but this is half an hour of a legend that has been long-awaited and doesn't let down. Of the American recordings, after only a handful of plays, this 6^th offering is already the second best, and will never better American IV though 'Aint No Grave is quite possibly Cash's most poignant song with the exception only of Hurt. Finally, let it just be said that this is the final reminder that Cash was one of the greatest musicians to ever live, and with this album, no grave can hold him down.

3Demented

3Demented

In the last 12 months the sheer abundance of film available in 3D has shot through the roof as cinemas have invested in the technology. According to my dad, he watched How The West Was Won in 3D in the 1960s, however he is possibly confused by early onset Alzheimer's. In my own personal experience, I first remember donning the now defunct one-red-one-blue-clingfilm-glasses in 1990 or so, at the request of Robert Englund. Anyone who remembers 3D Freddy's Final Nightmare will recall sitting through 100minutes of the lamest Nightmare on Elm Street instalment, just to have about 100 seconds of, well, 2D that caused a migraine. This was the end for 3D as far as I was concerned...until 2008.

Kung Fu Panda, the most awesome animated film of all time (see prev. post) set the bar pretty high with its three dimensional dumpling fight, and since then 2009 has brought us the flying house of Up, the paddle ball in the opening scene of Monsters Vs Aliens (bizarrely still looking 3D on the dvd version), the HamsterBall in Bolt, the flying scenes in Ice Age 3, and so on...I watch a lot of animated 3D fare.

Aside from animation, however, 3D just doesn't seem to be gelling, and yes Avatar is included in this statement. Watching Avatar I felt euphorically relieved that for once, after Final Destination 3D set the aforementioned 'bar' down on the floor and ran away from it, a modicum of thought and time had gone into scripting the film. Verdict...Avatar's 3D was long-surpassed by animation, but its script and cast saved it from total let-down. The likes of 2012 seem perfect for the extra dimension...imagine the limo race scene or the plane take-off...but don't receive it, and don't need it.

The best 3D film made to date, you wonder? A Christmas Carol. Suspension of belief is not even necessary, your brain cannot convince you that the snow is not falling all around you or that the GhostCoach will not trample you in its path. So ahead of everything else, even Avatar, is Crimbo Carol, that it begs the question "Can live action ever match animation in three-dimensional terms?"

So, the future holds Toy Story 2 in 3D and Battle For Terra...animation still leading the way, and even if new, original concepts such as Terra flop, the inevitable success of Toy Story 2 surely signals the revisiting of old faves. The thought of Lion King's stampede, or Shrek escaping the Dragon's castle surrounded by flame, or the likes of The Matrix in 3D is enough to keep me investing time and money in seeing the end results.

Snow Shite

Once upon a time there was a little bit of snow with magical powers, and it turned 99% of car drivers into idiotic, quivering wrecks, therefore causing accidents galore which were then blamed on the poor, innocent snow!

Broken Dolls.

“Too many enemies”, she told me, as I asked her again why I couldn’t go home.

I looked around the bare-walled flat that we’d been holed up in all this time, at the duvet that she’d nailed over the front window, the two deck chairs we were living on, at the pile of newspapers on the floor. I’d been terrified, sneaking to the nearest shop with sunglasses and a scarf on like some sort of confused skier, but I’d made it and, despite some funny looks from the shopkeeper, I’d bought every paper in the place.

“I can’t believe it,” she’d exclaimed, “not even a mention!” Her eyes had looked heavy, they’d looked so disheartened at that moment that I didn’t think I’d ever see her real eyes again. I had watched and listened intently for a gasp or a double-take as she’d come across what she’d been looking for. That hadn’t happened. She had looked at the papers and I had looked at her looking at them, waiting, anticipating. Nothing.

“There must be something, mustn’t there? How can things like this happen without anybody knowing?” I hadn’t understood, I tried to make sense of the situation but I couldn’t. She looked at me with a mixture of pity and sorrow, and a lump formed in my throat. I asked her, “Do you think we’re all alone?”

“They must have more influence than I thought if they can keep something like this out of the press”, she said, her hollow eyes sinking deeper into their sockets. I could tell that everything was taking its toll on her, and I had wished that there was something I could do.

Now though, two days later, I still can’t help in any other way than pestering her into a temper, so that at least she shows some sort of emotion. Anything is better than the nothingness she has been showing me. The worst thing of all, the thing that would make all of this hiding meaningless would be if we just give up. We can’t do that, and I pray that we won’t.

“I need you to go out there again”, she whispers.

My mind erupts with panic. How can she expect me to go through all that another time. I know I didn’t explain to her exactly how I felt when I’d returned with the papers, she’d been too eager to feverishly look through them to pay me much attention, but I was sure that the look in my eyes would have been enough. Even if it hadn’t, she must have smelt the urine drying on my trousers. I’d tried to hold it in but I really had thought that I’d been caught, but it had been just a boy running in front of a car that had caused the skidding tyres to open my bladder.

It is night now, or near enough. The last of the daylight is just slipping between the high-rises and cranes that cram the panorama beyond the hanging duvet. She explained everything to me, spending most of an hour trying to calm me down and convince me that the ends justify the means. I have agreed. I will go back out there. In time.

She explained, “I know you’re terrified, and if I could go instead I would, but they will recognise me. You have to be brave. We know there’s nothing in any of the papers, we haven’t seen the telly but we can assume that there’s nothing on there either. We need to know where we stand. You can wait until it gets dark this time. I had to send you when it was still light the other day so the papers hadn’t all gone. What I need you to do is this…” So I had sat and listened and tried not to show my fear, and since then I’d been peering through the gap at the side of the duvet, watching for night to come.

“It’s time”, she said, startling me by just how close behind me she was standing. I looked out at the cityscape and saw that the sky was completely dark. I must have been daydreaming because it was pitch black now, but for the life of me I couldn’t think what I had been thinking about. It didn’t matter now, she was right, it was time.

I couldn’t even look at her while I wrapped myself up like a mummy, pulling the too-big woolly hat down to just above my eyes, and hiking the itchy scarf up to just below them, but I could feel her looking at me. I wasn’t going to wear the sunglasses this time, they would draw attention to myself in the dark, whereas nobody would recognise just a pair of eyes anyway.

As the door clicked shut almost inaudibly behind me, I felt somewhat relieved. I may well be out here, on the wrong side of that duvet hanging there like my own private shield, but at least I was no longer under her gaze. I understood that she was worried, terrified, apprehensive, but her fear coupled with my own made me nauseous. I took a deep, deep breath of the cold, dark air and muttered beneath the scarf, “It’s time”.

After crossing the balcony as quickly as I could I began to descend the stairs. I could have taken the lift, it would be safer than the graffiti-strewn stairwells of the tenements, with their flickering fluorescents rarely fully lit, and the more than likely chance of coming across somebody coming in the opposite direction. However, the lift had one drawback, but the biggest one. It is fully illuminated. If the doors open to the wrong person, then it will be over. The stairs would be worth the risk.

Finally, after six flights of dinginess I stepped back into the open, welcoming natural darkness, and again that fresh, cold air filled my nostrils, relegating the urinary stench of the stairs to a memory.

Before me, in between two other blocks of identical flats, lay about five hundred metres of grassy nothingness, intermittently dappled with broken dolls with upturned eyes, and punctured tyres, and patches of dead, yellow grass still growing back where a makeshift bonfire had stood last year. The openness I thought, as I began to cross it, should have made me feel vulnerable and exposed, but it felt safer there than anywhere I’ve been for the last few days, especially the claustrophobia of that flat. I was about halfway across when I suddenly felt the need to see it, to see her. I couldn’t stop or stay still, but I glanced upward over my shoulder to see if she was there. I tried to, but most of the windows were in darkness, and I wasn’t sure which one was the duvet-darkened pane of glass. I almost came to a stand-still, craning my neck to see, when a voice from what seemed like light years away came hovering on the breeze, “…let me in…” The noise startled me and I realised I was almost at the road, and it was time.

As soon as I reached the road I crossed over and turned right. There are hedges on that side to obscure any prying eyes from seeing me when I didn’t want them to, and it also meant that I was walking with my back to the traffic. After a couple of hundred yards or so I passed the newsagents on the left where I came for the newspapers, it seemed to have been much quicker in the dark to get that far. Once past the newsagents I passed a small park on the right, then a butchers and hairdressers on the left, and then, just before the road widened and all of the high street shops sprouted up from the pedestrianised road, was my destination. Following the late evening darkness of the butchers and desertedness of the barber shop, the light from this building seemed to spill out of every window, running from the cracks between the bricks and flowing over the pavement in front, like a beacon lighting my way. I was here, and it was now time.

I have no idea how much time has passed, or what time is it now.

When I first walked in here nobody seemed to even notice me, but as I pulled my hat off and began to unravel the itchy scarf from around my face the older man behind the big wooden desk had looked at me with a mixture of shock and delight. “Dear Lord,” he had exclaimed, “we’ve been looking for you, son.” From then until now it’s all been a bit of a blur. The older man led me to a little room with just a table and a few ugly chairs in it, with badges on the carpet. There we had been joined by a younger man in normal clothes, and a pretty lady who kept writing everything I said in a little notebook.

I had told them everything she had told me to say, I think. I explained that I had been with my dad in the street when all of the banging had started, and that when my dad had pulled the man’s funny mask off I had been looking at the mask, not his face. I explained how the man had been too busy looking at my dad to see where I was looking, and that once my dad had gone to sleep he had come after me, with his mask on again, and he thought I’d seen his face. I don’t know why that was such a bad thing. Then I told them how the lady in the mask had grabbed me and taken me away to the flat. I explained how she was very scared of the man in the mask and of them because she wasn’t a good person, but that I thought she was good because she had looked after me. I described how to get to the flat, how many flights of stairs to climb, and what colour the door was.

When I told them about the papers that I’d been sent for, the pretty lady told me that, “we had to keep as much of this under wraps and out of the media as possible until we found you, in case there was a hostage situation unravelling and the media attention could have placed you in further danger.” I don’t know what that really means.

Once I had finished explaining everything and answering all of their questions, they had left the room and every now and then someone would pop their head in and check I was okay. A young man with glasses had come in with a blanket and arranged two of the chairs facing each other so I could lie across them both and get some sleep. I’m not sure how long I’d been awake for, or if I’d slept at all since this all began, but I remember hearing sirens fading into the distance and thinking of my dad.

“Ben, my name is Detective Inspector Niall, I need to speak to you, are you awake?”

I opened my eyes and saw the man who was speaking to me, he had a suit on and a beard, and after I had stretched and woke up a little bit, he sat me back at the table on the ugly chair and told me about what had happened while I was sleeping.

He said, “As you know Ben we have been trying to find you for some time, your father is in the hospital and waiting to see you. We will take you to see him shortly. First of all I want you to know that you are safe now. The people who were robbing the security van are all either in custody or of no further threat to you; two men were captured during the ensuing chase directly after the crime, the man who your father tried to apprehend got away, and obviously you know what happened to the lady who was with them. We have been to the premises that you directed us to, Ben, and I’m afraid I have some news that may upset you, are you okay for me to continue?” I nodded, and Mister Niall carried on, “It seems that you got away from where you were being held just in time. When we arrived a man who we now know was the third man from the robbery was leaving the building. He panicked when he saw us and we now have him in custody as well. Unfortunately though we were too late for the woman who kidnapped you, and I’m afraid she was pronounced dead at the hospital a few minutes ago.”

“She knew he would find her”, I said, remembering her eyes and how she had always watched over me. “I wasn’t quick enough at getting here was I? I left her and now she’s gone.” He comforted me for a while. Then we started making our way to his car, and the pretty lady joined us again. Then we left for the hospital and the closer we got the more I just thought about dad and less about her.

We are parking outside the ward now, and I can barely recall the colour of her eyes behind her mask. I just want to see dad so much, and I’m about to see him again at last, and he isn’t still asleep. It is time.