Bird, Java and the Lewisham Moron Convention

One one side of our house we have a student house. We know the young adults that live there are students, not because we have spoken to them (this is London), but because the front bedroom has a Betty Blue poster, right next to a Radiohead poster. Bloody shtewdents.
Last night they apparently had a party. Being wacky funsters it was apparently an “80s” party which meant lots of really, really shit music all night. However that didn’t piss us off. Apparently there were lots of people there. Not a problem either. However, as the evening went on it became evident that this was in fact the annual Lewisham Morons Convention. All night long, delegates from the convention wandered out of the house, into the street and shouted to each other in an attempt to win the “South East London Biggest, Most Annyoing Moron” competition. A very inventive set of entries this year:

  • Wretching Girl: Wandered down to our front step and tried to puke as loudly and bizarrely as possible. Michele’s comment through the window: “Ooh That’s attractive”.
  • Random Name shouter: Stood in the middle of the road and repeatedly shouted “Dan” about 50 or 60 times. After this he switched to “Mike”.
  • Cab girl: Cab girl wandered down to outside our bedroom window to call her and her dim mates a cab. Being a sharp-minded student she realised that she must first find a cab number so rang 40 or 50 different numbers in an attempt to find a service hat could provide her with a number. Each time she used a phone-voice:
    “Oh…you’re going to text me the number ? Oh cool – he’s going to text me the number. OK so you’ll text me the number ? Cool! He said he’s going to text me the number”. The number arrives with a loud SMS ringtone.
    “Hello can I order a cab please…oh…where are we again ?”

  • Mark.
    Mark was our favourite. At about 5am he turned up and spent half an hour knocking on our front door. Quietly, but persistently. At first we assumed it was for the downstairs flat, but there was no answer. After Michele couldn’t take it any more she stormed over to the window and yelled “WHO IS THAT!”. Mark was bewildered by the disembodied voice and did his best impression of a dog looking for where the whistle was coming from. “UP HERE!” yelled Michele helpfully. “Oh…it’s Mark” he said unhelpfully. His voice sounded like he had just woken up from a 100 years sleep. “Are you looking for the party ?”
    “Next door mate!”.
    By this time I’d woken up and asked michele who was outside – “Some DICKHEAD” she shouted.

Confusing. A dark house with 102 on the door, right next to the illuminated house with 104 on the door. which one is the party at 104 in ?
Today Michele drew a picture of Mark to illustrate what a moron he looked.

Humphrey has continued to be very loveable. Last night he climbed up my leg, up my t-shirt and onto the top of my arm. This followed a dream I had the previous night where he climbed onto my shoulder. I nearly cried! This morning he did he same.
He’s been squawking a lot – someone on one of Michele’s birdy boards suggesed that this may because Humphrey might actually be Humphrette…and about to lay some eggs. Eeek.

Anyway I plan to do some Java this weekend. Earlier in the week Suzanne managed to blag 3 6310i phones from Pat W*** in return for unlocking a boxload of old phones. I was lucky enough to be given one; my first pocket Java machine! Certainly not the coolest phone in the world, but it has a high hack value.Yesterday I wrote my first mobile Java MIDlet – very, very uninteresting but I got excited.

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