True story from my father
My father worked in the oil & gas industry in the 1970s/80s, designing bits of oil rig. As you can probably imagine, the workplace around that time was about as politically correct as the Black & White Minstrels celebrating a stag night at a Chubby Brown gig.

Anyway, each rig was built up from several different modules, which were delivered to wherever the rig was being assembled by the engineering contractor themselves, before the module is inspected, certified and then bolted to the rest of the structure, in a process not unlike a scaled up Meccano set.

This was cutting edge stuff, very expensive and very technical. The calibre of the engineering businesses involved was quite intimidating (ie firms like Bechtel, Brown & Root, etc).

Sure enough, a module the size of an office block was duly delivered to the site near Aberdeen.

The engineer assigned to inspect the module - a Scots chap well known for shooting straight from the hip - is tasked with monumental responsibility, if he accepts a piece of equipment that later fails, the trail of paperwork will lead right back to him and an investigation will result.

After a prolonged inspection, the Scots engineer has grounds to reject the module, it having displayed a number of faults upon delivery. This would set the whole project back several months and cost the subcontractor roughly £2m (in 1983 prices) to rectify.

"I need you to fill out this form to explain the exact nature of the issues" said the uptight suited manager accompanying the module, knowing an investigation into his failure to deliver a working module is pending.

Sure enough, the engineer fills in the reams of paperwork. I can quote his diagnosis of the problem verbatim:

Please describe the exact nature of the fault:

"It's fucked"
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Mon 8 Sep 2008, 16:52, 8 replies)

*builds time machine*
*shoots back to the days when you could get away with telling it as it is*

*tells it as it is*



*clicks*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 17:02, closed)

I used to use a similar phrase
While studying engineering years ago. If a thing was too broken to be repaired, my Instructor taught me that said thing was "Twatted".

Funny story Kiddo, *clicks*
( Rev. Jayneflakes Buy my book, I need the cash for drugs and hookers, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 17:10, closed)

Sub Categories
"How fucked? A bit fucked or proper fucked?"

"Proper fucked boss"

"How long til not fucked?"
(osok Rebel without a clue, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 17:17, closed)

surely needs a bit of percussive maintenance
or, in non-PC talk,

twat it as hard as you can and swear profusely at it.

Anyone who works with electronic goods that are on the blink and cheap to replace knows it's a win-win situation. You crack it a good one with the flat of your hand or, if it's particularly stubborn, your fist, and if it starts working again that's fine, and if you've now irrepairably broken it you get to buy a nice new up-to-date version.
(Stu Moo winner of five nobble piece prizes, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 18:12, closed)

Stu...
I like the bit of advice at the end of your reply. Worked well on the missus at least.

/Stella.

P.S. *click*
( Derpasaurus DOG FARTS, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 18:59, closed)

UDF
So, how broken is it?
Totally.
Totally?
It's UDF mate. Un-de-fuckable.
(randomstupidname would really like this signature field to be bigge, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 21:08, closed)

Proper fucked?
Yes, Tommy, before "Zee Germans" get there.
( The Resident Loon Not a demographic. Do not measure., Mon 8 Sep 2008, 22:11, closed)

Top Quality
May also require liberal application of universal adjuster (big f**k-off hammer)
(mymilkshakebringsallthemongstotheyard poison hearts, poison minds - joining hate, Mon 8 Sep 2008, 22:13, closed)