Back back back

Oh yes, a mere 48 hours after obliterating the memory of my PC, I am back online and firing on all cylinders. I only have 4 programs installed on the computer at the moment meaning it starts up in under a minute, and have not only negotiated the problems that arose with 'ethernet drivers' and 'multimedia audio controllers' but have even managed to connect direct to the internet this time around instead of faffing about with sub-standard wireless dongles. The high-speed internet has landed at last 'chez tattie', and I may even be getting something close to the 5MB broadband I pay for. What's more, the dodgy Saudi Arabian 'issue' that was preventing me from using Firefox has disappeared and I am back on my browser of choice once again.

All this boring computer chat may not sound very exciting to the uninitiated, but reformatting a PC is the 21st century equivalent of emerging, resplendent in 501s and grease-stained white t-shirt, from underneath the hood of '67 Ford Mustang having just repaired the dynamic combobulator with some viscose pantyhose from the girl next door, whilst chewing a match and squinting into the sunlight before running a hand through my hair, leaning against a tree and lighting a Marlboro with a match lit by flicking it off my teeth.

At least, it is in my head, and J has made all the right noises about how big, clever and sexy she finds me, having witnessed my 'putting in various CDs to the drive' over the past few days. Grrrr. Hear me roar, for verily, I am a tiger. A geeky tiger no better than a moderately intelligent 12 year old, but a tiger nonetheless.