Extra! Extra!

This is the section of HMIM where you can keep up to date with all the latest news on the site and the team. Browse to learn more about how we are slowly wasting away the fraying remnants of our lives.

22/05/08 Taking a Risk  
Stick Man Mishaps continue to spring up all around me, and the page is growing like Topsy. Also in the pipline is Pago, which is taking ages, on account of needing loads and loads of photographs of little green bottles. However, an obsession is, of course, completely worth it. No, really.
 

08/05/08 New Obsessions Available Now
It's been a while since I posted the last update, but I've been working like stink to get the newest obsessions out onto the site. There's a mix of old and new now available - Keep Britain Tidy Man, The Evil World of Mrs. Baggit, Stick Man Mishaps, and the Game of Meat are now available with the other updates and new grist on the way. Although it's hard to credit, the site has now gotten so large, and is pulling in so many obsession punters, that I've had to upgrade the hosting. I have no idea who you all are, but, I salute you. You must all be very patient.

By the way, for anyone who was wondering what happened with my Joseph Merrick leg, it swelled up for ages and hurt like hell. I went to the doctor, who told me to leave it alone. Then the whole thing suddenly emptied what felt like a gallon of pus out. For a while it looked like a little pig's nose with pus in the nostrils. I went back to the doctor, who said "eugh, that's nasty". I learned that the thing had, in fact, been an abscess, and that the pus-route was called a 'track', and, appropriately enough, that the pig-nostrils were called 'sinuses'. In the end the whole thing healed up, leaving a big scar. The whole experience also led to the slightly odd revelation that my sister has a fascination with pus. So now you know.
 

29/01/08 B.T., 2007 Officially Declared Rubbish.
Well, it's been almost a year since I updated HMIM, so I probably should offer some sort of explanation. It's this: 2007 was rubbish. Firstly, because I can now count four deaths (one long illness, one suddenly, one accidental, and one suicide) among friends, family, and acquaintances. Secondly, because as a consequence of my new job, I had to spend the last nine months in B&B, commuting 600 miles every week to see Deb. Thirdly, because we had to move house, which, as anyone who has ever done so in the UK will tell you, is the worst thing in the world. Thankfully, that's all over now, and 2008 is shaping up OK, if the first 29 days are any guide. The worst thing that's happened so far this year is that I've been bitten on the leg by some damn thing, as a result of which my thigh now looks like I borrowed it from Joseph Merrick. I do believe there may be a broken proboscis or something still buried in there somewhere.

As a result of all these rubbish things happening in 2007, I haven't had internet access for just about nine months and HMIM has been a bit neglected. Just as a final aggravating factor in all this jollity, the new house didn't have a phone line. No problem, I thought, I'll just phone British Telecom and get it connected. Unfortunately I'd overlooked an important fact which is that, as anyone who has ever used them will tell you, B.T. are the worst company in the world. Worse than the arms traders, worse than that company in Bradford that made a packet manufacturing Agent Orange, worse than the company that sold all that baby milk to Africa (I'm looking at you, Nestor). You might imagine that a phone company would have a decent call centre, and that they would be able to arrange to connect your phone line for you. You know what I mean, B.T.? Phone line? Those things you've got millions of all over the UK? Oh, never mind... Anyway, to give you a flavour of the abysmal customer service you can expect from these troglodytes, I can now confirm that a call to their customer 'service' centre will probably include any or all of the following irritations, in any order, many several times:

• When the robot woman answers the phone and asks you to key in the number you're calling about, don't worry if you don't know, this information is totally ignored by everyone you'll speak to anyway.
• Being on hold for three bloody hours.
• Being asked for you name and address.
• Being transferred to someone else and asked for your name and address again.
• Being transferred to someone else and asked for your name and address again.
• Being transferred to someone else and asked for your name and address again.
• Being transferred back to the first person, and asked for your name and address again. This loop can go on for ages, maybe forever. People have probably grown old and died while patiently waiting to speak to someone who actually knows anything about anything.
• Being transferred to a call centre in Delhi to talk to someone who has an accent so strong you can't understand them. But that's OK, because they can't understand your accent either, and they're thinking the same thing about you. In the end you'll realise that they're just asking you for your name and address, and you're back on familiar ground.
• Being transferred to a call centre on one of the moons of Jupiter. Being asked for your name and address again. Being transferred to a sex chat line in Croydon.
• Phoning back, being on hold for three more hours, giving your name and address another few hundred times and narrowly avoiding going back to the sex chat line.
• Being told you have a phone line and what the number is, before being transferred to another person who asks for your name and address again, then tells you that you don't have a phone line and you need a new number. Particularly annoying when you're looking at the phone socket on the end of the line in question, in your house.
• Being called by various names, all of which are anagrams or misspellings of your actual name. Giving an anagram of your actual name to see if they get it right. They don't.
• Being told "I'll see what I can do", by someone who then decides that what they can do is put you on hold for a week or so.

And so on and so forth for days and days - maybe the rest of your life. The crowning glory for me came when, after about two hours of bouncing around the world on a magical mystery tour of call centres, some bloke in India asked me if I was happy with the customer service I had received today? "Oh, ecstatic" I replied, forgetting that he probably wouldn't have received sarcasm training, "talking to you has been like three tenths of an orgasm". His brave response to this was to transfer me back to the UK, to someone who asked me...yep, that's right.

Anyway, after several weeks of this, and random engineers turning up on the doorstep for appointments we hadn't booked, or hadn't been told about, or had booked but then cancelled - all timed to ensure we'd be at work - someone turned up and, when he left, the phone line was working. I can only assume he wasn't actually employed by BT, as he seemed not to be an utter fuckwit.

So that's why I've only just updated HMIM. However, those who can be bothered can enjoy a cornucopia of obsessions, new and old - The Game of Meat, Giant Orange Ball, The Evil World of Mrs. Baggit, Keep Britain Tidy Man, Pago, and Stick Man Mishaps are all in production. Plus, Nestlé Man, Self Tissus, and The Colonel are all going to be updated, so get stuck in!

01/02/07 It's all over...and a new obsession is born
The day after the funeral and I am feeling a bit more human again. Everything went off OK and hopefully we gave the big fella the send off he would have enjoyed. After the funeral, we went to The Star and everyone got absolutely plastered. Thankfully, unlike with his 60th birthday, Deb and I didn't get lost on the way home. It was my birthday today so Deb and me and Saz and Tess and the Span went out to The Deep, Europe's biggest fish tank, to chill out. A good time was had by all. Plus I have recently found out that I have been offered a job with a water company down south, so HMIM's base of operations is going to be moving fairly shortly. A number of people asked for a copy of the eulogy I gave, which you can find here on the Big John tribute page.

23/02/07 Big John has still died
I can't believe I am writing this, but it's true. Big John has died. One of my very closest friends. Debs and I got called on Wednesday night to say John was ill and in hospital. We went to see Span and keep her company. We came home and went to bed. Span rang back. Big John was suddenly a lot worse. We got to hospital. Big John died, about one O'clock Thursday morning. We came back and drank more coffee / wine / beer than was probably good for us. I can't believe he's gone. Now I have to write his eulogy. He asked me before he died. The inconsiderate old sod.

22/02/07 Big John has died
We are in shock. Big John has died. We have just returned from Tess and John's house, and Big John has actually died. Shitting hell. Big John has died. Bloody fucking bastard hell. I don't normally swear on HMIM, but, fuck.

12/01/07 Sugar Factory
All that poor old Deb wanted was a quiet birthday with no obsessions, but, on the way back from a visit to the pretty town of Lincoln, I saw a sign that brought a latent obsession flooding back - Sugar Factory. It had been a while but it was still there. Unfortunately the photos weren't up to scratch so you'll have to wait for the page, but a return visit with Span is planned for the near future.

01/01/07 New Year Starts With a Big Bang, Big John Mysteriously Unharmed
Christmas is all over and we saw the new year in in fine style thanks to my Dad. Given that he holds a number of qualifications in the handling of explosives (seriously), it's perhaps no surprise that he procured a firework roughly the size of a dustbin lid to wow the crowds at the annual Taylor new years eve do, as well as a couple of rockets so big they actually reached to Big John's nether regions. You can see some video of this wondrous pyrotechnic device at Span's page, but suffice it to say that my Dad got plenty of bang for his buck. Watched by HMIM's finest, the firework cut a swathe through the otherwise fairly peaceful neighbourhood of Willerby, including, I'm very glad to say, the cursed ground of The Octagon. As Spanner herself said, it was indeed an über-class piss up. The slightly sideways gait of my Mum and Dad as they left the Taylor household testified to that. Despite a patchy history with anything explosive, Big John somehow made it through intact.

27/11/06 Nestor Comes Home
I can't believe I'm actually writing this, but I am now the proud owner of a Nestle Man. Courtesy of our man in Abatsdecheval, I am the proud owner of a brand, spanking new Nestle Man. This is all due to the rip-roaring, obsessional success of Operation Nestor, in which myself and my excellent right hand compadré Spanner, took a jaunt to France to pick up the Man in question. Big John was, of course, invited, and was, of course, too damn busy! Nestle Man was the original über-obsession, and having him finally fulfilled has left with a very weird feeling. Massive thanks to Span for coming along, Tess and John for releasing their only daughter for the weekend, and Deb, for letting me have a weekend away in France with another woman. Contrary to popular rumour, we had separate rooms. More details on the whole story here.

31/10/06 Nestle Man News
Breaking news today with regard to my dear old friend Nestle Man - I've heard back from our man in Abatsdecheval, after only a year. Keep an eye on the Nestle Man page to pick up on the exciting developments which are on the verge of unfolding. Apart from this, following a strange dream where I took to smoking cigars, tobaccanalia is the obsession of the moment.

28/10/06 Halloween again
It's the annual halloween party, which means that we get to more or less turn the house into an abbatoir. This years hanging corpse in the attic and disgustingly meaty flayed corpse on the wall, in whose production Spanner and Saz ably assisted, went over well. Many of the team turned up: HMIM's Sanity Anchor (to be fair she lives here anyway), Lead Fixer / Hired Goon #1, Matriarch, Foreign Correspondent, Corporate Communications Officer, partner of Hired Goon #2, South West Area Rep, Stability Technician, Manager of R&D, Manager of Publicity, and the Distraction and Subversion Operative all put in welcome appearances.

10/09/06 Too close for comfort
Span's proximity to The Octagon nearly proved her undoing today. With several of the team laying laminate flooring in her boudoir (a job, incidentally, which is about as much fun as slamming your head repeatedly in a door), Span suddenly saw a man cutting his hedge. A sharp intake of breath was heard as she realised that this man was an Octagon resident. Span, bravely, decided to pop up over the fence at the end of the garden and snap off a picture of him on the sly. But, just as she stuck her head over the fence, she saw the wayward resident on the other side of his garden, giving her a look filthier than a Blackpool bathing beach. Understandably scared, Span beat a quick retreat, presumably as the Octagonite reached for his cursing stick. A plan to recreate Edward Woodward's famous speech from the end of The Wicker Man ("Ye shall all die...accursed!" etc.) is in the pipeline to establish some contact with the residents of The Octagon, but we might bottle out.

10/09/06 Roy joins the team
HMIM now has its very own official watering hole. It's The Star Inn in Willerby, Hull. The Star has been located on Main Street for a good number of years, and, now under the management of cheery landlord Roy Waller, it provides much of the ample beer requirements of the thirsty HMIM team. Roy seems quite happy to be adopted by HMIM, so, I'm very pleased to say, welcome aboard! Beer, food, and new year's champagne breakfasts are all highly recommended. Christmas Eve carol singing, as provided by Big John and me is noted more for volume than quality.

08/09/06 Deb lets the cat out of the bag
One of the infrequently asked questions about this sorry enterprise is "does your mother know?". Yes, it would indeed be disturbing for any mum to realise that her beloved offspring had produced a page as disturbed as this. And now, courtesy of Deb, my Mum (and probably Dad) do. No, they really never knew before this. Deb has finally decided that the time has come for them to know, and has emailed my Mum with the address. Provided she every checks her email, I'll await a reaction with bated breath.

If you are reading this, Mum or Dad, please could you sign the guestbook?

05/09/06 Big Orange Ball, an obsession is born
Deb, I'm sorry. Yes it's happened again, and this time it's apparently so odd that even the normally unshakeable Spanner is recommending some sort of psychological intervention. I have to say that to me, there's nothing any more odd about being obsessed by a plumbing fitting than, say, a Nestle Man. Anyway, the page will be up soon, so keep an eye out for it.

06/09/06 Spanner hits the Octagon
Spanner has unleashed herself upon the unsuspecting residents of premier haunted Hull street The Octagon. Like an ear-ringed Columbo, she's decided to use her home's proximity to the place in order to get some photographs of actual residents. I must admit, it makes me a bit nervous for her safety, and I'm also a bit worried that she might get arrested. That said, if anyone can, Span can. Those who would wish to know more about Span's mission are recommended to visit her very own site. Span is also promising to give the world an insight into her Dad (Big John)'s toilet habits, which, from what she's already told me, should be interesting. The only thing that might put the kybosh on the whole enterprise is Tessa's reluctance to allow a picture of her own toilet to go on public view. Pshaw.

28/08/06 Papads, an obsession is born
Much to Deb's disgust, I'm afraid another obsession was born today. Sundays and bank holidays have turned into a good opportunity for many of the HMIM team to help one another out by decorating our respective houses. So far it's gone pretty well, although I did accidentally cover Teleman in paint while painting the front of our house. Anyhow, it's become customary for whoever's house is being attacked to provide a lunch for the others. This week I cooked a curry and some papads. Oh dear. A page dedicated to these crispy snacks is up and running now, and you can find it here.

15/08/06 Teleman has landed
Teleman is branching out and wants his very own page. And lo, I give you...The World According to Teleman! No doubt he'll do HMIM proud.