Looking at life

If you’d hold insanity at bay,
You should from London stay away,
For when travelling on the trains,
You will suffer pains,
As the voices will at you shout,
And your spirit knock about.

On the underground,
Pain does as well abound,
As voices shout and shout,
And knock a brain about.
On escalators, platforms and in the trains,
There are tremendous pains,
As the voices shout and shout,
And knock a brain about.

They say they are London buses cursed,
And they may be the worst,
The shouting voices at you nag,
And your every thought do snag,

Though on the Croydon Tram Link,
Passengers of misery can drink,
As by the second the voices shout and shout,
And a spirit knock about.

So if you at Olympic time would play,
You should from London stay away.
Or you will suffer awful stress,
Which will of your spirit make a mess,
And you may also lose the power to hear,
All the sounds which you hold dear.

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If you’re thinking of buying a printer, this is one to avoid because it is shockingly, shockingly expensive to operate.

There are six heads but if any one of them become even slightly clogged, you can’t just clean the blocked one, you have to clean the whole head and this can use a lot of ink. Especially if the one clogged head proves difficult to clear.

Also when you switch on the printer, there appears to be a cleaning cycle which also uses ink and just to annoy the user, the printer will sometimes enter a cleaning cycle for what appears to be no reason at all. But with this printer, once the computer has decided that the ink has run out in one cartridge the printer will refuse to work at all until that cartridge has been replaced - even though there is still quite a bit of ink left in it. There is no override code which would enable a user to just use up the excess ink. But to add insult to injury, once you replace the cartridge the printer enters cleaning mode and squirts ink out of 'all' the heads.

If you use a lot of just one colour, you may well find yourself having to replace all the other cartridges because the ink in them was used only in cleaning mode.

When I think about the cost of a replacement cartridge, it’s strikes me that when they designed this printer the executives at Epson didn’t just plan to go laughing all the way to the bank, they planned to go singing and dancing all the way to the bank. You’d better be rich if you decide to buy one of these printers because they will do terrible damage to any ordinary wallet or purse.

Fortunately, I bought this Epson with a continuous ink system which works modestly well for black an white, the colour I don't use because it is absolute rubbish and hopeless for any kind of colour and photographic work. Consequently, if you think you’ll save money buying a continuous ink system, check into the various makes available before making a decision. I would tell you the make I bought but I can’t read the Korean writing on the orange box. But it appears to be CH?Y. Can’t read the third character because it’s not English.

June 1st.: At the end of the day this is a printer for billionaires as only they can afford to keep buying refill cartridges. I will also say that after a few weeks the Continuous Ink Supply System is not too good an idea and now plan to buy a refillable cartridge to see how that works. Think it will be better that the Continuous Ink Supply System but will have to let you know.

June 8th. Have ordered a refillable cartridge from ebay and am waiting for delivery. However, recent experience has suggested that Continuous Ink Supply Systems are mostly rubbish.

June 21st. The refillable ink cartridges finally arrived and although they work more efficiently than the continuous ink system, they are a pain in the proverbial to operate. It's all very fiddly. Also, with this system one gets to see precisely how much ink one is using and so have decided for definite that this is an extremely expensive printer to operate, even if one is using refillable ink cartridges. For the average person I am convinced that unless they have a specific reason for printing their own photographs, they are much better off if they use one of the commercial companies to reproduce their work. Mistakes, in wasted ink and wasted photo paper, which is very expensive, can also be very costly. So much so that having your photographs printed by a commercial company is by far the cheapest option.

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July 31st, 2009: It seems the probelm has been sorted. Got an old Canon ip4200 from my garage and bought some refillable cartridges for this machine on ebay and also a load of black dye ink. Must say that printing in black and white is very good but the colour photographs are rubbish.

August 17th 2009. Once I got myself sorted out the refillable cartridges on the Canon ip4200 began to produce colour photographs which were really quite okay. If you want high quality photographs you will have to buy original cartridges, but for ordinary, run of the mill work these refillable cartridges work well. (I bought my cartridges and ink from ink-girl on ebay.)

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‘And The Blood Cried Out’,
Is DNA about,
And in this book you’ll see,
DNA’s history,
How it got its start,
And how in crime it played its part,
How science learned to understand,
And how methods did expand,
So it’s a book I did enjoy,
As it does myths destroy,
And being by Harlan Levy written,
In here the author’s worth a listen.

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London it is cursed,
With voices so, so cheap,
It must be in the world the worst.
As they in misery all keep.

Even if Londoners yet do not know,
What in them the voices kill,
As they on public transport go,
The voices make them in their souls quite ill.

And one day they’ll awake,
And note that they in soul are sick,
Too late a medicine to take,
As they the damage can’t unpick.

But they’ll live on without a soul,
Empty automons,
Who as people are not whole,
And know not their environs.

They will not think,
As the voices thinking stop,
Nor will they of life’s pleasures drink,
Their minds being turned to glop.

But as London now does slowly die,
And thoughts begin to still,
Who will for the city cry?
Will it feel the world feel a chill?

But then the rich won’t care,
They public transport do not use,
And they’ll also think it fair,
To the people for their own mental death accuse.

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Time it moves at a regular speed,
As it the clock does read,
But not so human hearts,
For as its way life charts,
Youth learns to some things love,
As they fit the heart just like a glove,
But time in its groove,
Must onwards move,
And the world does rearrange,
So many things must change,
But no matter what it thinks the mind,
The heart is left behind,
Until in a park, an OAP upon a bench,
Whom the rain does sometimes drench,
Hurts to the core,
Yearning for things which are no more.

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Even in
A wintery winter,
The wafflers of Wapping,
Do more waffling
In Wapping,
Than the Wombles
Of Wimbledon,
Do wombling
In Wimbledon
On Wednesdays.

Not forgetting that,
The welcoming Wombles
Of Wimbledon Common,
Think wombling
In Wimbledon,
On Wednesdays
Is wonderful.

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If our government a terrorist would torture,
They can be sure,
There’s no need to hit them with a stick,
Or them with red hot pokers stick,
Just from Afghanistan or Iraq,
To London bring them back,
And then put them on a train,
Where they for sure will suffer pain,
As the voices will them persecute,
Till in their souls they’re destitute,
And so to escape their hell,
They the government anything will tell.

But if the government is for information anxious,
Security can make them ride a London bus,
For as bus voices are much worse than trains,
There would for security be gains.

But should MI6 be in a rush,
To turn the terrorist’s brain to mush,
They can make the criminal feel cursed,
By bringing out the worst,
And putting the them on the Croydon Tram Link,
Where they of misery will drink,
And soon they’ll be putty in a hand,
And give in to our government’s demand.

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Make it easy on the one you love,
Make it easy on the one you love,
Or you will be alone,
Chewing on a dried out bone,
So make it easy on the one you love,
Make it easy on the one you love.

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The British are of music buyers,
And say they with harmony are flyers,
But will then get on a train,
And feel not an ounce of pain,
The verbal diarrhoea,
They will in fact hold dear,
And will not be disappointed,
With messages disjointed,
Made from a word bank,
Which does out the message clank.

A computer from the bank the words does pick,
And does then sentences together stick,
Punk, clunk, clunkety-kunk,
Upon an ear each word does clunk,
The sentences so unfluid,
To harmony sulphuric acid.
But still Britons these noises seem to like
These noises so deathlike,
Which show the future trend,
And spell of harmony the end.

(Human beings with inner harmonies shouldn't have to put up with it.)

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Whether I like it or not, I do have to use trains. But I won't get on a London bus unless forced to and even in a matter of life and death, I wouldn't get on the Croydon Tram Link without thinking about it first.
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Bigger bras in M&S are coming down,
So British women should not frown,
They should in fact Marks and Spencer laud,
And their executives applaud.

But who can the little bars of chocolate see,
Which until last month cost just twenty P.
But now so M&S can thrive,
In pence they cost thirty five,
An increase from the Devil sent,
Of a whopping seventy five percent?

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In The Sun,
The current Bun,
On page three,
We see,
Busty substances a pair,
More than just quite fair,
And a pretty face,
These substances both grace.

But you might balk,
If you heard the person talk,
Her thoughts they do not show,
Lucky we don’t them have to know,
As her opinions could be onions,
Which feel like bunions,
And are unkind,
To any mind,
And you her don’t also have to smell,
Which might,
Who knows?
Be just as well.

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Will certainly have to write something about the Wafflers of Wapping who certainly do more waffling in Wapping than Wombles do wombling in Wimbledon.
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Those forced to travel on South Eastern trains will be familiar with the She-Devil and her vulgar, crude and rasping voice.

What can make a journey more unpleasant than this rasping, unpleasant voice telling you over and over and over and over and over again things you already know?

For example, standing on a station this rasping voice tells you of the train that’s expected, where it’s going and all the stations it’s going to stop at and also often adds items of useless information such as how many carriages the train consists of. Then as the train approaches the rasping voice tells you the train is approaching and adds the time in case anyone on the station can’t read a clock. When the train arrives at the station and before the train doors actually open, the unpleasant voice tells all the passengers on the train, who can’t actually hear clearly enough to make out what is being said, all about the station they have arrived at and all the little details associated with it. Then, when the train doors open, the She-Devil’s voice once again tells people on the platform all about the train, where it is going to, all the stations it is going to stop at, and also, just in case passengers are blind, the number of carriages the train consists of.

But, once you climb aboard the train another shock awaits as the She-Devil has somehow managed to get aboard the train and then tells you once again, in her rasping and unpleasant voice, all about where the train is going and every stop it is going to make. But if that isn’t enough to drive the average traveller insane, as soon as the doors close and the train begins to move forward the She-devil tells you what the next station is going to be and then, as you approach the station the She-devil tells you that you are approaching that station. The train stops and the doors open so that all the passengers on the train can hear the She-Devil, who has now jumped off the train and taken control of this new station’s tannoy system, announce , in her unpleasant voice, the destination of the train, all the stations it is going to stop at and also how many carriages the train consists of. Then getting back on the train the She-devil repeats herself and goes through the whole routine again - and so it goes on, from the beginning of your journey, to the end - and this happens every time you take a train.

I for one am always a nervous wreck after every journey on South Eastern Trains but what can a person do? South Eastern have a monopoly and people who don’t like travelling with South Eastern, have no alternative. Monopolies are, after all, the ultimate aim of any capitalist and on Britain’s railways, the evil capitalists have taken control and employed She-devils to make sure all travellers know the true meaning of the word monopoly.

In our high speed world,
We are into the future hurled,
Faster and faster we daily go,
To where we do not know,
But surely the day will come,
When our speed,
Which we’re told we need,
Unmanageable will become.

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"We’re doomed," said someone from New Labour,
"I won’t the point belabour,
As everyone does us hate,
And won’t us highly rate.

We therefore can ourselves not save,
No matter how he does our leader rave,
For he the Party will destroy,
As he so many does annoy,

So come the election,
When voters vote for their selection,
New Labour is not properly groomed,
So it's doomed, it’s doomed,
I tell you it is doomed."

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