THE F*****G INTERNET IS DOWN!!!!!
It was pointless trying to scold him for swearing (he gets it from his nan). I could see the terror in his eyes. The horror of not being able to hook up with some borderline Columbine weirdo to shoot merry hell out of virtual paratroopers. My daughter, close behind, wailing like a wounded animal, at the unspeakable prospect of not being able to get on My Face or TwitBook to look at pictures of someone she doesn’t know.
It appears that, in the switch from one rubbish service provider to another, the ‘seamless process, Mrs Hards’ was about as seamless as something with absolutely no seams whatsoever!
I really wanted to spare them the ‘in my day’ speech, but alas, it was inevitable. “How about a game of Monopoly? Or we could go for a walk? Make cup-cakes or go to a museum? There’s …..”
They’re looking me in utter disgust. Like they’ve just caught Mr H and I in a compromising position involving gas masks and hot wax (which, trust me, will never happen). The kitchen window in the house 3 doors rattles as they slam the door and retreat to their lairs.
And so, I spend the next week on the phone to one of Rupert Murdoch’s employees (please leave brain at front reception) while hormones rage around me. New router on it’s way. Should take 2 days. But will probably take a week.
But at least we got to play Monopoly! And I got to be the Top Hat. And I beat ’em. Stick that in your Facebook and shoot it!
C+nt Alt Delete!