Thursday, August 31, 2006

Death of the Base Station

You've waited... you've asked... you've requested.... you've suggested... you've pleaded... you've begged... you've offered amazing favours... so here it is.

My landlady is an artist and she has a lovely bottle-shaped kiln that she keeps in the depths of our huge and gorgeous garden. We usually like to pack it out with wood and issue loud oohs and ahhhs as impressive jet effects emerge out of the top.

You can figure out the rest but... well, blogs aren't designed for brevity. Anyway she put the kiln away as part of the prep for her daughter's wedding which was cleverly scheduled for the week before my birthday party (thanks for the fairy lights and porno pond, Carol!). Naturally, we were invited to the wedding and summarily carried the kiln back to its rightful position during proceedings - and recommenced burning shit as usual. The wedding guests were impressed. I'm still in touch with one of the cuter ones.

The kiln again played its prominent role during my birthday party, providing heat and jet-engine effects for the assembled faithful, and we incinerated an impressive amount of stuff. And then the idea struck.... what a great send-off for the shitface base station from hell! Apparently there is video somewhere of the insertion but those guys are headed back to vermont so who knows whether the footage will survive.

For now, here is detailed photographic evidence of the aftermath. Note that the fuckface bastard didn't succumb entirely, further proving that it is in fact Satan's own networking device.

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