Computer Terms Illustrated #25

What can I inflict on you today? Hmmm...

Handshake

Twhirl

The Volume is Dirty

Secure Point of Entry

Superuser

Evil Bit

Easter Eggs

Twain

Interpreter

Why No, I Don't Drive. Why Do You Ask?

Formula 1 driving. WTF is the fascination with fast cars being driven in close proximity to other drivers around the same track over and over and over? Surely it just encourages the audience to engage in reckless behaviour when they themselves take the wheel. Can you picture the same mad enthusiasm if the sport were some other life-threatening activity?

Coming soon to Sky Sports 1:

• F1 Smoking. The B&H championship launches amidst a blaze of publicity and a cloud of smoke.


• F1 Leaving Your Pet Locked In The Car During A Heatwave. How long can Rex survive as the thermometer climbs ever higher?


• F1 Leaving The Iron On. Can the Fire Brigade get there in time?


• F1 Running With Scissors. An old favourite, this. Get the Band-Aids ready, mum!


• F1 Standing On A Chair To Hang Curtains. Put the emergency services on standby!


• And finally, what can beat Formula 1 Ladder-Climbing Whilst Carrying an Open Tin of Paint?

A Brief History of Scotchland - Part 7

'Twas in the year 1689 that the Mobile City of Dundee launched a furious, but ultimately abortive attack on the scourge of Scotchland, Janette and Ian Tough. This epic pub brawl went down in the annals of history as the Battle to Kill The Krankies.


A couple of early casualties in the meleé were the Earl a' Murraymints and his beautiful wife, the Lady Mondegreen, who fought and ultimately died side by side just a century beforehand and a hundred miles to the north. Or south. What do you want, accuracy? Sheesh. That's what Uncyclopedia's for.


Only one intrepid Scotchman escaped the battle unscathed. Mr Donald MacBean of Auchtershoogle was out walking his pet haggis, Shuggy, when he heard the rumble of the approaching city. Without a moment's hesitation, he lifted up his wooden kilt, yelled, "I fart in your general direction!" and let loose an almighty blast.



The force of the resulting eruption, thought to be fuelled by mashed neeps (turnips), propelled Mr MacBean clear across the river Garry to safety. Shuggy's fate is not recorded.



Sadly, although Dundee won the match 5-0, The Krankies lived to fight another day and can still be heard murdering the Scotch language at Christmas pantomimes and TV specials (rates negotiable).

Any resemblance of the above tale to historical accuracy is purely coincidental.

Family 'too rich to work'

Phil and Betty Windsor own most of Hampshire and haven't done a day's work between them in over half a century.

They say that they don't need to work as they claim benefits of over £7 million every year to help them run their vast estates.

Betty spends her days walking the corgis around the local estate, while Phil abuses foreigners at every opportunity.

Eldest son Charlie relies on state handouts even though he runs a shop in Cornwall with his horse, selling biscuits, wine and other overpriced crap to unsuspecting tourists.

Daughter Annie is a rugby groupie, travelling up and down the country to eye up the players as they scrummage in the mud.

Incredibly, the family refuse to get proper jobs, claiming their land and titles are hereditary - even though Betty herself handed Charlie the Principality of Wales on a whim.

Silver spoon

The family, who own a total of 84 castles, palaces and stately homes, spend £50,000 a week on food and say they wouldn't be seen dead eating beans on toast.

"One has one's Fortnum & Masons hampers delivered three times a day," says Betty. "One can get top-notch Beluga caviar at bargain prices. It really adds a zest to roast swan and quail's eggs."

"That little whippersnapper Billy said he wanted to join the filth," says Phil of his eldest grandson, "but we soon knocked some sense into him and now he regularly flies a helicopter over to his girlfriend's house for a weekend shag. Good for him I say!"

When asked to comment, a London taxpayer said, "They're worth every penny, Gawd bless 'em! I 'ad that Eddie in the back of my cab once, he was a right gayer. Not that there's anything wrong with that."

Computer Terms Illustrated #24

Somebody stop me!

Beowulf Cluster

Gooey Front End

Hex Characters

Folder

Agile

Inkjet

Back Door

Social Notworking

Feed

Merkan-English Dictionary

The great thing about having all these Merkan bloggers in my reader is the rich variety of incomprehensible crap new and exciting terminology that they use. Which I then have to go and research so that I can update my dictionary for your elucidation (Brits) or education (y'all ignorant rednecks). So without further ado:

Polo Mints. Round, minty, white, with a hole in the middle.

How anyone could confuse these with Lifesavers is beyond me.

Bloody copycats! *cough*

Those people who tell you that a battered shoebox in the middle of a slum is a "delightful fixer-upper situated in a quiet neighbo[u]rhood"? Merkans argue over whether the correct pronunciation is REAL-tors or re-AL-tors, while Brits prefer "esTATE agents". I prefer "lying scum".

What they say: This house has lots of potential.
What they mean: Potential energy.

Pound. What could be simpler than the standard unit of British currency?


So it's confusing when Merkans call this a pound.

Because we Brits call it a hash.

Not to be confused with a quarter.


No wait, I meant the other kind of quarter.


Although a quarter pounder is a quarter pounder.


Now I've got the munchies.

Vapourware

So the Merkan military-industrial complex are refurbishing their Trident nucular weapons for our UK nucular submarines (once the damage has been repaired) but they have hit a tiny snag.



They've got plenty of plutonium.



They've managed to source a DeLorean DMC-12 that can still just about reach 88mph.



But they've totally lost the plans for one vital component.



It's a mysterious but very hazardous material codenamed Fogbank.



Better known as a Flux Capacitor.



Without it, their nucular missiles are nothing more than fancy doorstops.



Or worse.



All the scienticians involved in the original design have either died, retired or "moved on".



Where's Marty McFly when you need him?