The
Bill 04-December-2001
There has been a lot of action
on the mailing list in recent weeks. Administering
the gossip, banter, and idle pish has quite distracted
me. I even read some of the messages. If you want
to know what someone in Luxembourg is having for
lunch, or what kind of coat committed supporters
favour, check out the mailing
list, otherwise give it a wide wide berth.
The
first Christmas decorations appeared mysteriously
this weekend. I am talking about on the fence of
course (photos to appear soon), the Fencemaster
household has not succumbed to Christmas cheer yet,
but will be selecting a tree from 'Porters' (the
greengrocers) this weekend. It's been penciled in.
I agreed to this yesterday without hesitation partly
after hearing the actor who played Sergeant
Bob Cryer on The
Bill say (on the particularly rubbish radio
station that forces your Fencemaster out of bed
at variable unearthly hours of the morning) how
much he hates Christmas. It just sounded so stupid.
This is something I might have said myself on previous
occasions. Why didn't someone tell me it sounded
so dumb? If there's anything else I have been saying
that sounds stupid, please let me know. On second
thoughts, maybe not.
A
naughty message appeared on the above mentioned
mailing list purporting to be from Mrs Fencemaster,
and alleging certain un-Fencemasterly behaviour
(chance would be a FINE fine thing). It wasn't Mrs
F, as she is not a mailing list subscriber (sensible
girl) and is having some difficulty receiving any
e-mail at all right now as I have failed to pay
for our 'family name' URL hosting, which is her
pop3
e-mail address. Naughty Fencemaster.
Mrs
Fencemsater has been noticeable by her absence contributions-wise,
with the exception of one message a few months ago
purporting to be from a disopsed African king. See
what I have to put up with? SEE?
Amish
29-November-2001
Grrr.
It'll all be over bar the shouting this time in four
weeks (Christmas). I am very cross it's crept up so
smartly. If every year goes as quickly as 2001 Christmas
isn't the only thing that's almost over, I'm very
cross about that too. Is that everyone nicely depressed?
Good.
Rumours
that your loving Fencemaster hates Christmas are
grossly, err... true. I wouldn't mind it so much,
but the children spoil it for me, what with all
their joy and excitement. I have three children
in case you didn't know; eight, six, and two. Strange
names, but we like them etc.
Tribble
jokes aside, I did put forward to Mrs Fencemaster
what I thought was a strong case for bringing the
children up as Amish.
This would have had many advantages, not least of
which being that they wouldn't have celebrated Christmas.
Nor would they be allowed to use electricity, telephones,
drive cars, and so on. It would have saved a fortune,
not to mention provide many opportunities for hilarity
at their expense:
Fenceamish:
Dad, can I watch television?
Fencemaster: No, you aren't allowed lad, you're
an Amish, remember?
Fenceamish: But, but, but...
Fencemaster: Shush now, you sound like an outboard
motor.
Fenceamish: But you're watching television
dad.
Fencemaster: Well I'm not an Amish am I?
Fenceamish: [increasingly confused] How
come I am then?
Fencemaster: You just ARE. Now go and finish that
barn.
Okay,
I don't even know if the lovely Amish people actually
do celebrate Christmas or not. Either way, I would
tell the Fenceamish that they didn't. In pursuit
of accuracy I had a nose around Amish-heartland.com,
but quickly became confused at what these shunners
of technology are doing with a website at all.
Pointless
game 29-November-2001
Some
naughty and provocative person used the message
board to lay down a 'Fencemaster challenge'
at close of play yesterday. Now I usually like to
refuse a challenge point blank as a matter of principle.
This time however, I thought I'd show everyone how
adept at finding, stealing, and adapting someone
else's coding to my own ends I am.
I
have put this off for a long time. I hope you appreciate
that. Please note the clever cross platform/browser
compatibility, and no plug-in requirement, of the
banal and pointless: 'Fencemaster's
Harry Potter Challenge'
It
might take about a minute to load up the first time,
depending on how rubbish your Internet connectivity
is.
December
update:
Okay, so I abandoned the Harry Potter bandwagon
in December and Jumped on the Lord of the Rings
one. Sir John Harvey Jones
knows all about bandwagons. He once said 'if you
can see the bandwagon, it's too late to jump on
it.' So there.
Lottery
15-November-2001
This morning I left the house early (6ish), tripping
over the cat as I said 'thank god it's Friday', in
my usual repetitive and predictable manner, you weren't
here to hear it though, so I got away with it. The
cat wasn't impressed, but at least had the good manners
not to correct me, realising that in the grand scheme
of things that it was no big deal that Friday is still
technically another day away.
I forgot to buy a lottery ticket for last night's
draw, which I was rather counting on winning. Unfortunately
for me: 'you've got to be in it to win it.'
How very true that saying is, especially in reference
to the lottery, which illustrates the validity of
that saying perfectly. It could have been made for
it.
Do
remember that I am not trying to win back the right
to lock my bike to the fence. Although on that subject
I actually have locked my bike to the stupid fence
this week, as the lamppost I've been using to thwart
the thieves has been otherwise engaged. I would
not normally have used the fence, but I don't wanna
park out of site of my building, and there are no
signs on the fence anymore, they've been nicked.
I still don't know who by.
Otherwise
it's been quiet fenceside. It's had a few visitors,
and I am promised photos of what occurred. Oh yes,
a geezer came over from France and visited the fence
only to complain bitterly in an e-mail that 'it's
a bit small, did you use a wide-angle lens to take
the pictures? And why wasn't there anything on it?'.
There's no pleasing some people.
Never
mind, it'll soon be Christmas, when the fence will
be resplendent in yuletide
cheer.
Damn
15-November-2001
Oh
damn, I forgot to decorate the fence for Halloween.
Never mind, there's Christmas round the corner. I
might even come out of hiding as it were (not that
I am hiding) and provide some Christmas spirit for
it. It's looking rather down in the dumps at the moment
with only a solitary cable tie and the white-painted
spikes to identify it as the very special fence it
is.
I
can't imagine the highly unamused landlady, or even
McGlashans calling the constabulary and saying 'quick,
send an officer round immediately, the Fencemaster
has brought joy and cheer to our fence at this seasonal
time.'
I shall give it some thought.
Nearly
Friday 08-November-2001
I
am coming round to the realisation that today is not
actually Friday. Still, if in the morning every day
I assume it's Friday, I shall be correct one time
out of every seven, obviously. That's good enough
odds for me. My old mate Captain Kirkwood sent a lovely
picture of Britney Spears almost on a bicycle
last night, which will be added forthwith, it's all
very exciting.
What
do you think of this idea: I am trying to tidy up
the exciting diary of the life of the fence found
in the column to the right here (just there, that's
it). Everyone knows I'm beavering away at a block-busting
novel, trying to keep my day job, and avoid my family
all at the same time, but I don't want to neglect
the fence or let this site become confusing for
new arrivals (welcome, you new arrivals you). So
I'm looking at making the fence diary available
in downloadable form.
Here're
the first 15 pages in a zipped Word document,
I've started to edit it, fill in gaps, add juicy
titbits. I'll try making PDFs and adding pictures
and links as and when.
Anyone
at work? (and browsing the Internet? PERISH the
thought). Click
here for an online, printable version.
Does
it work? Is it a good idea? let
me know.
Friday
03-November-2001
Thanks
god it's Friday. Okay, so it's technically not Friday.
Today, technically, there're another four days until
we hit Friday, but I figure that in the grand scheme
of things those four days are just not significant,
they're just a minor detail.
I
am once again forced to do some work this week,
I don't know why I am bothering though, there's
no money in it. That seems to be a running theme
for whatever I do, 'no money'. I shall consult a
Feng Shui expert at the earliest opportunity and
have a goldfish installed in the kitchen, or a tree
uprooted, or whatever else they do. I won't really
of course, it's 'round and angry' (a vicious circle),
as Feng Shui consultants are not cheap, so you need
to be made of money before you can get one of them
over to tell you how to position your television
set to maximise the flow of wealth. Perhaps I just
need one of these.
There
seems to be some snorey-boring technical problem
with the dirt cheap hosting company I am using that
means no e-mail is sending or receiving. Well what
do you expect for £8.00 per month? I suppose
you could expect it to work. No, of course you couldn't.
Either way, the poor people on the mailing list
(millions of them - it's a veritable lifeline) will
all individually be convinced I've banned them;
we are a sensitive bunch in the world of Fencemastering.
I have not banned anyone, so don't worry. Except
for the person who was insulting Concorde
on Friday (you know who you are) you are treading
a fine line.
Mail
me here
until it's fixed.
Shoes
01-November-2001
The
Fencemaster Personal Finance Plan (FPFP) is well underway,
I thus extend my heartfelt apologies to the Nat West
Bank, the Halifax Building Society, Morgan Stanley
Dean Witter Credit Cards, Mastercard, and ten others.
I'm afraid food for the three Fencemonsters (Mrs F's
Pinot Grigio and my vodka) is taking priority over
what I can only describe as 'a shed load of unsecured
loans credit and store cards'. I'm glad I've got
that off my chest. Let me know if you want more details
on how to recover from such a seemingly unrecoverable
debt-ridden situation, it's easy when you get down
to it.
It
has become apparent that there's not a lot of money
in Fencemastering, none at all I'll have you know.
That's fine by me because it's a barrel of laughs
and I have made lots of lovely new friends. There's
been a lot of fence activity recently, and I have
a handful of photographs to upload. Here's another
popular suggestion fulfilled. All the shoe lovers
out there will be delighted (you know who you are).
Speaking
of shoe lovers, Mrs Fencemaster once took over a
bedsit after a bloke moved out. After about six
weeks she had occasion to move the wardrobe and
was horrified to find stuffed behind it (in a pervy
manner) about 60 heels apparently snapped of 60
different women's shoes. She was shocked and stunned.
How could anyone do that to shoes?
Tigers
30-October-2001
What
a great weekend for the fence. Thanks to a lad from
Cumbria and his mum several suggestions were fulfilled
at once, in a series of stealthy 'commando style'
raids, under the cover of darkness, right into the
heart of fence territory. I have as a result got several
fantastic new photographs to grace these pages with.
The first, and note the toilet humour has not been
a feature of this site before, can be found here.
I'll
post the rest as and when. I mean, give me a chance
why don't you? I 'm not as young as I was.
Either
way, a big thanks to the Cumbria crew. If you don't
know, Cumbria is just underneath Scotland, and because
of its historical proximity to many bloody conflicts
is the location of the hardest fighting men in the
country. If you don't agree go and argue with them,
not me.
Activity
30-October-2001
Oh
blimey there's been fence-based activity this week,
and no mistake. I arrived at work on Monday morning
at 8:00am and couldn't help but notice three rather
large red (plastic coated) chains locked round the
fence. They looked like a work of art in themselves,
having a certain symmetry that I found impressive.
It was obvious that they had been securing a larger
item, I know not what at this satge, but await the
arrival of scanned photographs in my inbox, as that
is how it works now.
Later
in the week the chains were gone. Not only that,
the pedal, remaining few padlocks, and bit of bent
toast rack were gone too. I was sad about this,
as all that remains on the fence now is one solitary
cable tie. Oh yes, the tops are still painted white,
which a cheeky supporter oblivious to the rules
must have done. The signs are missing too.
Competition
18-October-2001
Look
at this chap.
Have you ever seen anything so ridiculous? Me neither.
I was startled, startled I tell you, by a bunch
of these this morning. Okay bunch isn't the proper
technical term; I was startled by a cackle
of them. There I was, at 7:30 am just as it was getting
light in Richmond park, and a great squawking erupts
alongside me as a cackle of ring-necked parakeets
pointlessly leapt from one tree to another, I nearly
fell off my bike with horror. Being aware that ring-necked
parakeets are a Schedule
9 animal in the UK, I made a mental note about
this sighting so I could report it to the police,
who would surely come along later and arrest them
all. I'll bear it in mind anyway.
It
was most different last night, as I was late home
due to meeting Dave
and Guy for a quick pint (okay, okay, a quick four
pints). Richmond Park at 9:0 pm is quite different.
It's dark for a start, very dark. This is partly
why I bought my very
bright light, which was expensive, but as soon
as you've had to go four miles in the pitch dark
and og (yes, OG) with owls hooting and deer mooing
(I think it's deer, I hope it's deer) you
will not shirk at laying out cash (or credit card)
for a ludicrously bright light that makes everyone
cycling toward you fall off, joggers run into trees,
and cars drive into, err... lampposts. There was
a thick, low og lying over all of the park last
night and I didn't see another soul for the entire
route through it. It was quite spooky, I hope it's
not oggy tonight.
Oh
dear, I just read through the above and seem to
have consistently missed out a letter. 'Sorry about
the F in fog'. Sorry about the F in fog! How
we laughed!
Okay.THIS
IS THE COMPETTION. Whoever is the first to tell
me where I nicked that joke from (if you didn't
spot the joke it's to do with 'The F'in fog')
can have the aluminum
zefal 800 alu drinking bottle worth £9.99.
So there. Mail
me!
No
Sign 15-October-2001
There's
still no sign (of the sign). This doesn't mean I have
won, or that I can go back to locking my bike to the
dumb fence. I don't want to anyway as I have a better
place to park opposite my office now. The bike is
a little in the way there and I need two locks to
attach it to the lamppost effectively (Urrgh, I HATE
lampposts. Mail
me if you want to know why), but it does give
the smokers exiled from the office opposite something
to fiddle with while they puff away.
There's
nothing the landlady (the owner of the property
the fence is adjacent too) can do to stop me continuing.
Okay, maybe she could take me out to dinner, offer
me a huge sum of money, or even just talk to me
nicely (I have great fickleness
potential). Calling
the police certainly won't help; it's just made
me change my methods a bit. I don't attach anything
to the fence myself at the moment (the police advised
me informally not to), but many supporters are helping
me out, in various ways.
I
have, for instance, added a new celebrity
cyclist today, (thanks jezdefez). I don't even
think if we moved our office (which we might do)
that it would make any difference, as people now
come from far and wide (as far as Georgia in the
US) to visit the fence, so me being a few streets
away wouldn't make any difference. Going back to
my first
ever report on fence related shenanigans, it's
the principal that counts.
Once
again, for some bizarre reason, I actually have
some work to do today. I am, of course, VERY CROSS
about this.
Terrible
05-October-2001
Your
loving Fencemaster has had work to do this week, it's
been terrible. Terrible I tell you. I didn't
get where I am today by working, I got here by surfing
on the Internet all day and e-mailing friends while
pretending to work. I thus feel distinctly
short changed this week. There was trouble with naughtiness
on my Message
board and Suggestions
page, with some loyal supporters getting a little
carried away. I was thus forced to withdraw direct
posting privileges for everyone; suggestions come
to me for screening via the magic of e-mail now. The
naughty people (you know who you are) think the exclusion
only applies to them, which would be better, but is
something your useless Fencemaster is not clever enough
to invoke. Anyway, let's keep quiet about it and they'll
be none the wiser.
The
bank Mrs Fencemaster and I use (one of them, Mrs
F has several 'secret' accounts, she revealed to
me this week. There's no money in any of them though,
only more overdrafts) has finally made steps to
bring the relationship to an end. It's at the point
now where they don't return our calls, answer our
letters, and when we do get to speak to anyone there
they are curt and rude. If the bank was a girlfriend
I'd effectively be stalking her now; that's
what it feels like anyway. Don't worry though; I
have a plan to see the Fencemaster family through.
I call it the Fencemaster Personal Finance Plan.
You want to know all about it you say? Okay, I'd
rather discuss it over a pint, but in the event
you can't make it to the O'Connor Don I'll write
it up later, maybe. I'm first going to approach
the Bank
of England and ask for £1 million in return
for a guarantee to them that I will NOT reveal it
because if too many people actually do it, it's
going to bring the UK economy crashing down like
a house of cards. We've got to do it though, there's
no other way.
Oh
yes, my mate Kev, when seeing the price of the chips
in the O'Connor Don began calling it the O'Dinner
Con. This is harsh, as the chips are worth every
penny of the £4. Don't listen to him.
Deer
27-September-2001
The
deer in Richmond Park are an essential part of its
make-up, what with it being a deer
park and all. I cycle through it in the morning
and evening when it's closed to cars. The deer know
it's closed to cars too, and thus stand in my way
in the road 'out of hours', making the most of it.
However, we're just coming up to another cull, so
they're starting to look a bit worried.
The
really big, old, hard ones make sure they've got
loads of bracken tangled up in their horns and then
stand 'mooing' aggressively at nothing in particular
(I don't like these big stags at all, they're always
pushing past me in bars, knocking drinks over, and
'locking horns' with each other in the middle of
Marks & Spencers). Some cheeky younger ones,
I'm almost certain, are hell-bent on knocking me
off my bike and nicking it. Then there are the highly
organised tunnellers: mixed groups of deer who have
access to heavy earth moving equipment and are using
it to go underground, as it were.
The
hunter will be along soon and smoke them out no
doubt, picking off the ringleaders. You can hear
the shots from our house in the quiet early hours,
which worries my sensitive 8yo Fencemonster: 'It's
only drug-related gang warfare in Norbiton',
I tell him, and he goes back to sleep, happy again.
The
remaining deer will soon find a new order though,
and the hunter will be back again next year for
another cull ('to take out from a herd or group').
If he didn't, the ecological balance of the park
would become upset. Or even worse, the deer would
break out of the park and upset the ecological balance
of the whole of South West London. Me? I have a
very
bright light on the front of my bike, which
clears them out of the way promptly.
Bank
26-September-2001
It's
no secret that I'm going to see the bank today. It's
pretty desperate and I'll be using the phrase 'debt
management' a lot, partly to impress them and partly
to frighten them. Mrs F and I have cleverly built
up one of those overdrafts that's so big people at
the bank are embarrassed about it. It's not the first
time either, you would think they'd learn (no not
us, them) and put a stop to it, but fortunately
they seem to have a complete staff change about every
six months. I'm not going to mention any
names of course.
I
ran this idea by a friend last night and she was
so NOT impressed (she was quite rude infact), but
this time it involves the fence:
How
about instead of just a fence-based party, theres's
a fence-based remortgage party. I ask a financial
adviser along and he brings a wad of forms. Everyone
who comes will then be able to gather round the
fence (there'll be drinks, obviously) make new friends
with a common interest (the fence) and leave having
capitalised on the equity in their home, and even
secured a fixed/capped interest rate for the next
three years (4.45% available). As well as being
a 'Fence of Peace', it could become a famous 'Personal
Finance Fence', and provide a much-needed revenue
stream for your Fencemaster (I'd do a deal with
the FA).
I
spoke to the nice man from McGlashans last night
and he informs me they know nothing of who removed
the signs (A bad sign, below). Do let me know if
you have them, otherwise I might have to replace
them myself with similar signs that have a few
words changed.
A
bad sign 25-September-2001
The
signs have gone. Oh yes, they're not there anymore.
There's just 'fence' where once there was authoritative
signage. Now, don't you go getting excited (your Fencemaster
never gets excited) because I don't know what
happened to them. However, I do not think for a minute
that the 'harassed' landlady took them down.
Just
incase you've missed out, despite what it says on
the signs, it was not Howard De Walden Estates that
put them up because they e-mailed
me and told me in June. I assumed then (and not
unreasonably) that McGlashans,
the property management company involved were responsible
because they, err, 'manage' the propertyand take
things off the fence, and make comments to
the press, such as 'He's set up a website, he
thinks he's very clever.' And: '...I object
to outsiders coming in here ['Marylebone Village'],
parking their filthy bicycles and making the place
look unsightly.' (London Evening Standard 26
June 2001 and BBC Radio 5 28 June 2001 respectively).
There's a third party (or is it fourth?) involved,
the mysterious 'landlady'. Her first point of contact
was to attempt to have me arrested by three large
and highly amused police officers.
I
don't think any of the above have removed the sign.
I think it was a supporter, I don't know who. I
e-mailed McGlashans last week to check and needless
to say they haven't got back to me yet. I do hope
the nice policemen don't come round again, they
might not be in such a good mood the next time.
Anyway, the plot's thickening again. If you took
the sign, let's do some business OK? E-mail
me.
Oh
yes, ever wondered what the hell use toast racks
are? Check
it out.
Chopper
17-September-2001
That
great British tradition, the weekend, is over (sorry
about that, I've been listening to BBC's
Radio 4 for a few days, although I did draw the
line at The
Archers). It helped get me back on track anyway
(Radio 4), that and a visit to Brooklands on Saturday.
We
take the Fencemonsters swimming in deepest Surrey
early on a Saturday morning, I usually persuade
everyone to accept a diversion via Brooklands (near
Weybridge) on the way home. What do you mean 'So
what?' Have I ever lead you up the garden path?
Well, aside from being the birthplace of British
motor racing and aviation, a place where you can
wander amid jet engines, racing cars, and aircraft,
with the old boys that made them pointing things
out to you, sitting the Fencemonsters in the Harrier
(I'm most jealous), and letting them operate the
still-working bomb release mechanism on the Wellington
Bomber brought up from Loch Ness after 45 years,
there's also a bicycle exhibition. This was exciting
for me, as the stunning centre piece is the coolest
bike ever made. Not only that, it's tastefully gold
plated. Behold the Raleigh
Chopper!
Don't
worry, Mrs Fencemaster likes going too, as it has
a cafe (you can pay by cheque), and a general atmosphere
of bygone days (she hankers after an Art
Deco house and lifestyle, but your useless Fencemaster
can't deliver, unfortunately). Although she's not
too impressed when I elbow my way into a conversation
about, for instance, Sir
Frank Whittle's early plans for the jet engine.
After five minutes she starts whimpering and pawing
at my leg, the Fencemonsters long having run off
up the test
hill. Brooklands is a smashing place to go,
trust me. If you cycle, many fences are available
and you can attach your bike to any of them.
Click
here to
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