Tricking The Set Top Box

Brompton, where I've lived for ten years, has always been a bit dodgy for telly reception. I was given an Ultravision box, and was grateful enough that the thing gave me my first clear ABC in a decade. However, Aunty and Channel 10 were all I could get.

Played around with the Program Guide button tonight. The unit came to me without a manual and in dire need of a lot of gaffer tape, so I hadn't gotten around to finding it yet.

Flicking through, I found that pictures from most of the stations came up in a little box above the schedules when you clicked on the station's program guide.

Once you've got a picture, hit Exit. Voila. Brilliant reception on everything except SBS. No worries. I get that brilliantly anyway.

My only question is, why do I have to trick the bloody thing into doing its job? It reminds me of a Liberal Cabinet.

Ruddock On Protecting ASIO Officers' Names

The following Chaser extract is reminiscent of something that made me almost sh*t myself two weeks back. I'm not legally able to tell you what it reminds me of:

[Excerpt of ABC TV's Chaser's War On Everything (2006) courtesy of ABC Radio National's Media Report]

Julian Morrow: Minister, you've outlined the government's counter-terrorism strategy this morning, but can I ask you, in entertainment what is Austin Powers' middle name?

Philip Ruddock: Who is Austin Powers?

Julian Morrow: Well it does bear on your portfolio, Minister, Austin Powers is a super-spy?

Philip Ruddock: Is he; for whom?

Julian Morrow: The British government I believe.

Philip Ruddock: I see. I don't ever know the names of spies, and I certainly don't know the names of intelligence officers, nor should you.

Julian Morrow: Okay so I shouldn't tell you that the answer is in fact Danger is his middle name....

Philip Ruddock: No, you shouldn't tell me the names that may be a nom de plume of agents when you may expose their lives to danger.

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Let's just say that things are tightening up.

The Moral To The Joke?

Y'know" said the Scotsman, "I still prefer the pubs back home. In Glasgow there's a little bar called McTavish's. Now the landlord there goes out of his way for the locals so much that when you buy four drinks he will buy the fifth drink for you."

"Well," said the Englishman, "at my local, The Red Lion, the barman there will buy you your third drink after you buy the first two."

"Ahhhhh, that's nothing," said the Irishman. "Back home in Dublin there's Ryan's Bar. Now the moment you set foot in the place they'll buy you a drink, then another, all the drinks you like. Then when you've had enough drinks they'll take you upstairs see that you get laid. All on the house." The Englishman and Scotsman immediately scorn the Irishman's claims but he swears every word is true. "Well," asked the Englishman, "did this actually happen to you?" "Not me meself, personally, no," said the Irishman . . "But it did happen to me sister."

(Thanks Chip)