» Evil Pranks

Picture the scene...
There's a girl you like. Big time. You adore her. She's perfect. And she's single. You flirt a little, but it goes nowhere. She's wary of being hurt or messed around.

My friend Tom was that guy. And after nearly a year of groundwork and being turned down times beyond number, the girl, the perfect girl, finally agrees to go out on a date.

Tom is beside himself. 'I'll take her to the finest restaurant in town. The new Thai one - it'll be perfect. For weeks, he rants and raves, gushes and giggles. Tom is on cloud nine.

We're all rooting for Tom. As D-Day approaches, we slap him on the back, ease his nerves and wish him well.

On the night itself, most of us have forgotten, or merely pushed it to the back of our minds.

Not Alan. Oh, no. Alan's car turns up outside everyone's house at 8PM, beeping like a maniac. What's going on?

Ten minutes later the answer is clear - we're parked opposite the new Thai place. And look, just inside is Tom, the perfect gentleman, the happiest man in the world.

Al begs silence. Al's phone appears. A number is dialed. Not a whisper is heard.

"Hello, Thai Kingom?"

"Good evening, this is doctor Wilkinson of Grantham Hospital - could you please pass on a message to a gentleman I believe is dining with you tonight? A Mr Thomas Lastname? Yes, please, could you tell him that his wife has just gone into labour? Thank you. Good evening."

The helpful manager strolls over to the table. We lip read. Word for word, the message is relayed. The girl stands up. Slaps him. Leaves. He runs after her. A few steps outside he pauses, then stops.

He sees our car. He sees his friends in stitches. He clicks. He screams. He runs towards the car, profanities flying. Five people are laughing so hard that they are in danger of having a cardiac arrest. The car lurches away.

We avoid Tom for three weeks....
(Thu 13th Dec 2007, 20:42, More)

» The Dark

Egypt, 2009
Last year I was invited to Egypt as a guest of the government and the tourist board and... blah police escorts, military checkpoints, lunatic politicans and far too much drinking. Anywho. Penultimate night. Bedouin camp, 10 miles into the desert. Perfect darkness.

I walked away from the lights, away from the life. Light is safety, warmth and security. I walked until all around me was dark. The only senses I could rely on were touch and sound. For long minutes I walked on, eyes down, letting myself adjust to the stygian blackness, the nothingness.

I've never felt so disembodied or disorientated. I sat on the sand, alone in the desert. Slowly I looked up.

In that moment I saw all the splendour and wonder of the universe. Galaxies, shooting stars, the Milky Way itself. I saw all life and all creation in the sky. I felt that, at that moment, something I've never experienced before or since.

I got up and slowly walked back to the camp in the blinding dark. Shuffling, walking, guessing.

I'll probably never see what I saw that night, the modern world is slowly killing the stars. The light blocks out the dark.

The dark isn't scary.

Sometimes, you have to go into dark places to see the light.
(Thu 23rd Jul 2009, 22:09, More)

» My sex misconceptions

The cleverest penis in the world
Many moons ago, back when Miraclefish was young and Yoyos were yet to make their comeback, I was a naive little child.

My older brother, bless him, set about filling me in on the ins-and-outs (fnarr) of sex, girls and other icky stuff.

'Have you had a stiffy yet?'

Umm, yeah...

'Do you know what that means?'

Nope.

'It means you fancy a girl. If you like her, your willy gets stiff and points at her.'

Ohh. But, umm, I've had one. And I don't fancy her. She's ugly and doesn't like Star Wars.

'Ahh, you might think you don't, but if you get a stiffy, your willy knows that you do.'

Ohh. Wow. That's cool. Oh no. I fancy her!

And so the young miraclefish spent the next year of his life believing his special co-pilot could read his mind or see the future, resigning himself to fancying girls he thought he hated, while feeling nothing for ones he thought he liked.


Some time later, in the first sex (teacher said a bad word!) education lesson, the myth was dispelled. I was so annoyed that I stole my brother's bottle of Mountain Dew.

Damn you, Miraclebrother, damn you!
(Fri 26th Sep 2008, 13:07, More)

» Impulse buys

There was a Miraclefish who swallowed a fly...
I had a few quid spare so I bought an Xbox 360. Ace, I thought. ‘This’ll save me loads of cash,’ I convinced myself, ‘I can stay in and play instead of spending countless quids on booze.

And for a time it was good.

But….my 21” shonky old telly really wasn’t doing it justice.

So I bought a Phillips 42” plasma TV for £1100.

Wow! A DVI cable later and everything’s in high definition!

What a difference. Pity the sound is just coming out of the stereo flat-panel tv speakers.

I should really get myself an amplifier and a pair of speakers.

One £400 Yamaha amplifier and a set of £300 speakers later, I’m content. I’m blowing aliens to shit and it sounds and looks heavenly.

Only…

This amp and the Xbox can do Dolby 5.1 Surround Sound. I guess a centre speaker and rear speakers would solve that. And now I’ve got the capability, it’d be pointless to squander it.

So another £300 turns into three more speakers.

This is perfect. I’m dodging bullets in Call of Duty and being called a ‘Limey douchebag fag’ by Americans. Whatever that means.

Hang on a moment, 5.1 means that it can operate a subwoofer, too.

So I bought one. I am Thor, I can create thunder! Oh, and I upgraded the rear speakers, too. They were the weak link in the chain. So long £200.

I’m in the Matrix now, I have light and sound like you wouldn’t believe.

Games look so good it’s unreal. Shame about DVDs though. They look pretty poor when blown up this big. Oh, hey, that HD-DVD player add on is cheap. Only £130. It’d be silly not to. I’ll just order Transformers, too. And these other nine films…

Look at Megan Fox! In high definition!

Hmm, hang on, my TV can’t handle black properly, it looks speckley.

I think I need a better one.

£1000 later, a similar 42” plasma has replaced the older, ever-so-slightly inferior one.

Ace, it’s much crisper and it handles dark images perfectly.

Oh, but it’s suffering with the component input – it really ought to be a digital signal over HDMI cable. But I got an early Xbox, they don’t have an HDMI port.

But the new, Elite one does. £260? Well, mine will likely break soon, so it’s really a sound investment.

Wow, this is perfect. All I need is a set of leather, recliner sofas to go with my God-like AV setup. £900? Bargain.

And this is where I am now.

Although, I’ve just realised that my amplifier is Dolby 6.1 ready. And Sky HD is getting awfully cheap...

God help me.

It started off as £200. It’s currently past £4800.

Oh, and I sort of moved house because the living room wasn’t awesome enough. I’m not even going to think about the costs for that one…
(Fri 22nd May 2009, 16:30, More)

» I Quit!

My one and only quitting - Bastards
Once up a time, a younger, less-cynical Miraclefishy worked for the [DELETED FOR LEGAL WHATNOT], in their [SLAVERY] call centre, a big, happy independent subsidiary of around 200 people in total, selling contracts to the hard of thinking.

The money was great, the people were ace and the nights out were four a week. It was a good time.

But things got bad. The company lost the plot; putting profits on a pedestal above all else: integrity, customer's rights and employee wellbeing.

After 18 months of downhill crappiness, it came to a head when I was told I'd have to work 11 days straight, and, because the company hadn't made enough that month, they were restructuring the bonus scheme: i.e. we weren't getting any.

At which point, halfway through my shift, packed my stuff away and walked out, ignoring the questions of my friends, managers and co-workers. I retired to the pub, switched my phone off and spent a week lying in bed and feeling the stress float away.

At which point I turned my phone back on, to discover dozens of messages from the team managers.

I replied to one, a nice enough guy who'd left a snide message saying 'if you're going to quit, at least be professional enough to tell someone.'

I replied with 'This company has left me with so little energy, I couldn't summon the effort to resign. I reccommend you and anyone else with a soul left gets out now, before the company shits you out, too. Have a good life.'

Then I wrote a four page goodbye, critique and list of every single illegal act, improper sales technique, scam and bastardly act that the company had forced me and others to do, sent it along with an explanation to everyone@company.com email address.

Fifty people forwarded it on to their line managers saying 'we agree in complete with every word of this, you HAVE to sort this out or we will all go, and pass this on to trading standards.'

I then got a letter from the HR team saying 'please cease and desist from emailing the company. However, we are somewhat concerned about the content of your email - we would like to schedule an exit interview - in the meantime, we would very much appreciate if you did not forward your resignation letter to Trading Standards until we have had a chance to speak to you.'

To which I replied with:

'Certainly, I'd be happy to. My fee as a consultant in this issue will be £20/hour and you will, of course, provide travel expenses and a free lunch. When are you free?'

They never replied.

90% of the staff there have resigned, been moved on or fired.

The BBC has since investigated them for allegations of cashback fraud.

I'm in my dream job. They're up shit creek.

Miraclefish 1 - Big corporation 0
(Sun 25th May 2008, 15:44, More)