Daddy cool? Daddy fule...
Took a call from Ma Grouch one day. (nb - this back in the days of dialup). Being a somewhat fearsome woman, and not given to waffle, she cut to the point.

MG "There's a £60 phone call on the bill. It's an 08whatever number. Why?"

G "Erm. Um. dunno mum. Sounds like the number my computer dials for the internet."

MG. "You damn well know it's a dialup number. I ask again: why did it cost £60?"

G: "Erm. um. When was the call?"

MG: "Month ago last Tuesday."

At this point I wiped my brow and calmed down.

G: "I was away then."

MG: "I know you were. But your father was here, and he was using your computer."

The penny dropped.

G: "Mum - I think I know what what happened. Would you like me to talk to Dad?"

MG: "I haven't spoke to him for two days, so you may as well."

She puts a rather sheepish-sounding Pa Grouch on the phone. I put on my sternish voice - I'd been waiting for this conversation every since he caught me 'reading' razzle when I was twelve:

G: "What were you doing?"

PG: "I was looking at cars. I must have clicked something my mistake"

G: "No you weren't. You were looking at porn. Mum knows, I know and you know. Pay the bill, never touch my computer again, and I'll never mention it again - and in return you will never again mention the time I set your car on fire."

PG: "'k."... and he rang off.

Postscript: A few weeks later, I go home and got to my machine. Low and behold, dialers everywhere, and the registry peppered with virii. Took me days to fix - and all the time, all I could think of was my dad fwapping away, in my bedroom, to 'Asian Cornhole extreme'.

*Boke*
( Grouch would quite like his clients to stop being numptys, Mon 25 Sep 2006, 12:43, Reply)