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Where There's Smoke ... There's a Pyre

Oh my God! It's chaos in the home today with raised voices and tantrums being thrown all over the place.

And no it's not the imminent Budget, which threatens to raise medical costs for we slightly-older-than-Methuselah types.

And no it has nothing to do with me either, just in case you're wondering.

Anyway, I'm far too exhausted after my excursion to the movies - and the fact I had an allergic reaction to a potent mix of popcorn and choccy icecreams that left me in bed in a highly fevered state. Well, it could also have been Natalie Portman but I'm not going any further down that path.

No, the chaos in the home began when dopey old Eric along the hall decided to liven up the post-lunch shindig with a couple of musical CDs his mate transferred from tape to disc. He owned the tapes and just wanted to have a more permanent and more enduring form of keeping them.

So far no problem, apart from the fact that his musical tastes are highly questionable. Just how any self-respecting octagenarian can listen to those Beatles-wannabes Oasis is completely beyond me and only pales when compared with his second offering - Michael Jackson.

Now, I'm not sure about that chap. He's had more pieces off him than a leper on a pogo stick and for the life of me I can't work out how the MJ of 1970s-fame can possibly be the guy we see now.

Anyway, old Eric had just finished putting up the posters of Bubbles and Mikey and plonked his CD into the computer - rigged up with a terrific new sound system - when BANG, WHAPPFF, FIZZZZZZZZ everything stopped.

The lights went out, screams could be heard from old Trudie who got caught in the lift and smoked fair poured out of our machine.

Of course there was pandemonium as Eric first looked stunned, then went absolutely feral and jumped up and down until his colostomy bag fell off. Nurse Sarah slipped over while trying to get out of the way, tipped over the tea trolley and all our prozac pills flew everywhere. Let me tell you it was a nightmare.

Once things settled down we had a squizz at the computer and discovered that the disc Eric, now better known as That Bloody Man, had put into it contained an anti-piracy piece of software that creates havoc if the copy is played in a computer.

Apparently this software is known as a poisoned pellet - I can see why - and has the ability to not only crash computers, but sometimes freeze for good the optical drives of machines.

Now I can understand the need for music companies to protect their copyright - otherwise how else would we be able to find and develop such shining musical stars as Britney Spears and Kylie Minogue. You can see the money is well spent can't you?!

I would have thought, however, that deliberately vandalising other people's property would be an equally bad offence to commit. Can't wait for the lawsuits.

Better go, the residents have just got a pot of tar and a few feather pillows and are heading for That Bloody Man's room. They're singing Dixie, wearing white sheets and I reckon our boy is just about to discover why Michael Jackson underwent his trans-colour procedures.

Hang on guys .... don't start without me!

If there is something that has really got up your nose, let Grumpy Old Coot know at grumpy@webwombat.com