A personal taste of Nelson de Gouveia

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Going Offline – Day 23: All this open space…

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outside is real


So what has happened since my deep and tearful goodbye from the virtuous existence of cyber-stalking my nephews and former loves?
Nothing…nothing’s happened.
But I can tell you I feel less than interested about returning to the site on a regular basis to read about what sort of pancake mc-enema someone’s had two weeks ago on the coast of Costa Da Whateva with their moronic brood of inter-spacial Martian children hanging from their steel-girdered nipples conversing in an unintelligible language consisting of clicks and farts.
Seriously, I am.
Yesterday, you may not believe this…but as I walked outside the place I live in, I actually…ok, you’ll be shocked…I, totally, said hello to a stranger. Would you believe that, a complete stranger, someone I had never met, outside my abode, my safe place previously reserved by me to sit in front of my Dell screen clicking on status updates while eating cookies (not biscuits)…and I said yes to them.
I may be writing this sarcastically, but in reality I was more concerned now with what someone has going on around them at that very moment, which are the real moments we keep losing out on every day sitting in front of our electronic communications devices. I betcha Kirk didn’t envisage that when we was strutting through the decks of the Enterprise trying to out-strut Spock.
Which is f***ing insane…Spock’s struts are legendary, even his people turn an eyebrow.
Anyway, I’m glad I’m not on there. And so far, I’m enjoying it. Here’s some recommendations:
  • www.tedisreal.com – A funny movie coming out in August with Mark Walhberg and Mila Kunis, and a VERY rude teddy-bear voiced by Family Guy creator Seth McFarlane
  • Game of Thrones is back for a second season, and the first two episodes have been gloriously evil and deliciously dirty with a hint of medieval fantasy. Find it.
  • Community is midway on it’s third season with a turbulent war in the making between Troy and Abed. You can’t miss the best friendship group I’ve never been in myself, duh!
  • Pancakes….just simply pancakes, there’s not enough of ’em and there’s nowhere enough around me to enjoy.

Peace out, lovely amigos, I’m working tonight at the Painted Grin show in Benny’s Bar, come down and enjoy!

Going Offline – Day 13: 24 Hour Limits

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In other words, once you deactivate, you return to reactivate and THEN it says you have to wait a full day. Talk about waiting.

This is marvelous.

Not only do I ensure that no spammers keep sending me crappy mails telling me to join their group OR come to their show, but now I can literally limit the time I spend on the site itself.

It’s a mental hospital locking you up in a cell for drug abuse, and you’re left screaming.

It’s also…not working, as I’m now spending time on Twitter.

See? Addictive personalities need an addiction to cling on to, may it be substances (alcohol, cigarettes, drugs) or other forms of deprecation that hurts themselves or others…perhaps I can developer a sexual addiction where I just stop caring about rejection, approach every fanny I fall on and then tell them to bugger off.

Thankfully, my newest ones are Twitter, performing comedy shows and watching Star Trek. I swear, if I’m at least funny, I think I can do well being a loser twat with a currently-shaved making people giggle at my insecurities.

Have a happy and joyous weekend, people, and I’ll see you on Twitter (check the panel on the right for details on Twitter and gigs)

Going Offline – Day 11: Not entirely surrendering…

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Ok, so I’ve rescinded on my stance to delete Facebook and never return by reactivating my account and ensuring it never gets deleted from its databanks. I’m not surrendering though.

Why? Two reasons:

1. I actually lost touch with someone for a week. I was worried, confused over the lack of communication that I wasn’t receiving from her, and she lives all the way in South Africa, so it’s not like I could just visit her place to see if I could smell decomposition from the kitchen. thankfully, I went back into Crackbook and she was there, all perplexed at my harrowed shock, only to find that her company’s servers were giving her trouble, and her mobile/cellphone was not receiving international texts.

2. It made me realise that I cannot lose the connections I’ve built up. It’s like a PR professional throwing away her contact book to swim in the lake. It’s silly, it’s stupid.

I’m heading over to South Africa to reconnect with family, but one day would return to London and I would require an easy method to contact old acquaintenances.

But I am still aware that I spend far too much time prowling people’s false perceptions of personal lives, and in the past week I’ve truly felt the feeling of isolation to the point that I then step outside, say hello to fellow human being, share a joke and a drink with an old acquaintance, reconnect.

So I am still off Facebook. It’s not on, you can’t find me there.

But I’ll be back… 😉

P.S. I was surprised people commented at my previous posts. I’m sorry I didn’t follow up on what was happening in my life thanks to the Facebook exile, but I’ll keep on posting about how it’s affected my little social life, and hopefully it helps you in recognising that some IT geek’s communication is another’s way of hiding from the fact that all you need to do to reconnect with someone…is to knock on their door.

So thank you.

Nigerian Scam Email – Dissection

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In this day and age of personal wariness of solicitous emails from foreign nationals claiming to transfer money from African accounts to yours via a Nigeria scam, I’m still surprised that malicious scoundrels as yet have not given up on the possibility that I would comply with their complimentary correspondence.

So, without further ado, let’s poke fun:

Dear Friend,I am Mr. Diallo T.Alidu, Home Address: 15 kolughu naaba avenue, Age: 45years old. Marital status: married with 3 children. Occupation: banker. Working at the auditing and accounting department, BANK OF AFRICA (B .O. A) Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso West Africa, with due respects and regard I have decided to contact you on a business transaction that will be very beneficial to both of us at the end of the transaction.

With due respects and regard? Aww bless, thank you, I appreciate someone I’ve never met that wants to take my money regards me and respects me. And thanks for your address, I’m sending you a sample of my poo.

I know that a transaction of this magnitude will make any one apprehensive and worried, but I am assuring you that all will be well at the end of the day.

Phew, and there was me being apprehensive and worried.

I came to know you in my Private Search for a Reliable and Reputable Person to handle this Confidential Transaction, which involves the transfer of huge sum of Money to a Foreign Account requiring Maximum Confidence.

I’m more concerned you found me in a Private Search, considering I have a public blog and Twitter. But at least you’ve instilled maximum confidence in me by writing it with Capital Letters.

During an annual auditing of Account’s in this bank, my department came across a very huge sum of money belonging to a deceased person who died in a tragic plane crash on the Lenana Peak, Mount Kenya, Saturday, the 19th day of July, 2003 together with his wife Jean, three of their children and their spouses, and four grandchildren, since then his fund has been dormant in his account with this Bank without any claim of the fund in our custody either from his family or relation before discovery to this development.

Wow, a whole three generations of family wiped away in a plane crash over a mountain. Are you sure they weren’t wiped out when the raft got overturned in the ocean (yes, sounds racist, but in practical terms, this email is stupid, so please indulge me.)

The said amount was U.S $8.2M (Eight million, two hundred thousand United States dollars).In fact I could have done this transaction alone but because of my position in the country as a civil servant (A Banker), we are not allowed to operate a foreign account and would eventually raise an eye brow on my side during the time of transfer because I work in this bank.

“A Banker” is a civil cervant in Burkina-Faso? Ahh, the dictionary for criminals was slightly amended there too. Also, only ONE eye brow?????

This is the actual reason why it will require a second party or fellow who will forward claims as the next of kin with affidavits of trust of oath to the Bank and also present a foreign account where you will need the money to be transferred into on your request as it may be after due verification and clarification by the correspondent branch of the bank where the whole money will be remitted from, to your own designation bank account.

To be fair, I got bored after you called me “fellow”.

I will not fail to inform you that this transaction is 100% risk free. On smooth conclusion of this transaction, you will be entitled to 45% of the total sum as gratification, while 55% will be for me, also you have to understand that you and i will put hands together to make any expenses that will come up in this transaction and any expenses that you and I make will be deducted from the fund immediately the bank transfer the fund into your account before sharing.

In keeping with my training as a student of the English language, I would have to say that “transaction” and “smooth conclusion” makes you sound like a former extra in a Michael Jackson music video turned magnanimous fool.

Please, you have been advice to keep “top secret” as I am still in service and intend to retire from service after I have concluded this transaction with you.

I have been “advice”, people, you read it here first.

I will be monitoring the whole situation here in this bank until you confirm the money in your account and ask me to come down to your country for subsequent sharing of the fund according to percentages previously indicated and further investment, either in your country or any country you advice me to invest in. All other necessary, vital information will be sent to you when I hear from you.

I’m imagining a man in front of an array of monitors…naked and jerking off to all the “mail sent” messages you see. Twat.

I look forward to receive your reply urgently. Show your readiness to assist me in this transaction by replying this proposal as early as possible and I want you to assure me of your capability of handling this transfer with trust by giving me the following information’s about yourself:

Sir yes sir! You can count on your assurance of my capability in following your stupid commands, SIR!

1) Your age:………………………….2
2) Your occupation:…………………..Durr.
3) Are you married?:………………………….How many wives can I have?
4) Your mobile phone number.:………………………….0800 Durrr.
5) Your location and full address……As far away from you as possible.
6) Scan and send a copy of your identity card to me. :………………………….Google me.
7) Your Fax Number: :………………………….0800 Fax Durrr.
8) Sex:.:………………………….How many wives have you got?

I will tell you how you can apply to the bank as soon as i receive your response towards this mail. Extend my greetings to your family and we should please try and have trust on each other in this transaction so that we shall achieve our aim together.

My family would love to hear from you, although they understand if you can’t make it to the next annual “let’s fuck up a stupid person” barbeque meet-up.

Do not take this very transaction as a joke; I need your full co-operation to make this work fine. Because the management is ready to approve this payment to any foreigner who has correct information of this account, which I will give to you. Now I have been convinced that you are capable and will meet up with this transaction of B.O.A Bank of Africa .

I don’t take this transaction as a joke, I swear. Just your email. There’s a difference.

I need your strong assurance that you will never let me down in this transaction, so you reply and ask me how you can apply for the text of application form of claim of the deceased fund from the bank. It is the foreign remittance departments that are responsible for transference of fund into your account over there.

Really? I mean, of what form of when of what who now?


Have you not received a reply from me? My email is Nicolas_sarkozy_sexy_2009@ole.fr

Thanks yours,
Mr. Diallo T.Alidu.

You’re not welcome, yours
Mr Not Interested, QC

Going Offline – Day 3: Chewing at the Furniture

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Ok, so it’s getting harder now not to think about it. I’m coming across so many doubts in my mind about why I even deleted Facebook in the first place I’m chewing at the furniture, as I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying so many options before.

I could sit and chat to whomever I wanted, even though I never truly did, while on some occasions people just popped up a chat window and spoke to me instead.

Also, there’s a nagging fear in me that I’m closing doors on options that may come to me, from people that Iv’e networked with, and if they were to hear from me again maybe they may consider bringing me on for small bits of work that they’d need me.

It’s kind of like sitting in the corner of a pub and someone asking for your help to move a table. It’s not a big deal, but makes a guy feel useful.

But again, I’m not sure if I can implicitly accept that I should reconnect again. Should I? I’m putting myself in a precarious position. What if I need those same connections again? What if I return to London and find that I don’t have any other contact details apart from messaging them on Facebook? These past few days just trying to find anything to do that will add to my coffers has been pretty much fruitless.

I don’t just miss the friends I’ve made, I also miss the possible connections towards a better life.

12 more days till I regret my decision…

Going Offline – Day 2: Still have the option

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So it’s the second day of my account deletion, and I received a mail from Facebook stating that I still have 13 days left to reconsider my decision to reactivate my account. Nice to have an option.

So, what are the pros and cons of me heading back to the site?

Pro: I’ve created a base of 800+ connections that will allow me to communicate my thoughts and ideas to everyone, including marketing myself out as a friend, a comedian or, in the current state that I’m in, a viable employable option amongst all the contacts I’ve created over the years working in the videogames industry.

Con: My addiction will kick in again and I’ll just sit there watching as other people update on their lives about how happy they are with their loved ones (my family live in South Africa) and the places they are at (I’m in a tiny flat in North London

Sufficed to say, it’s tempting.

Still, I’m allowing myself the use of Twitter as it is a clean and quick method of being around for people to interact with should they desire it, while at the same time using it again for the same purposes of communicating those same thoughts, ideas and the projects I’m involving myself in to keep the time going.

Going Offline – Day 1: Deleting my addiction

in Life by
goodbye facebook addiction

You know you’re truly alone in the universe when you begin to comprehend the vastness of outer space, the endless, unyielding vacuum that goes on and on and on for billions upon trillions of light years AND beyond, with wonders never before seen, and if you’re reading this, you never will either. Because you have an addiction.

Similarly, you’re truly alone when you delete your Facebook account settings off your universal chat program you’ve used to incorporate all your contacts together, to find only 7-8 people you used to chat to on MSN, Yahoo, Google and various others.

Yes…I’ve deleted my Facebook account.

I haven’t deactivated it, and I could’ve just shut it down and never use it for AGES, and you’ll come back to people having sent you messages like, “Where are you, what you been up to?” Etcetera.

No, I’ve DELETED my Facebook account.

Wiped. Clean.


Because I have an addictive personality to all things technological, always have. As a kid I took things apart and tried to put them back together. I learnt soldering techniques from my Uncle when his business was working arcade machines, and he would slave over the gameboards making sure the transistors that came loose thanks to some punk kid shaking the cabinet.

I would watch as he would melt thin, weak metal to make sure two wires would conduct, then connect it all up.

Facebook, however, is FAR from technological. Facebook is a social nightmare.

In addition to my addictive personality, I’m a little cowering worm in social circles. I compare myself daily to everyone that I pass on the street, let alone the people I judge to be my peers doing better than me, working harder than me, feeling happier, wonderful, amazing, excited, jubilant.

And I sit at home, without a job, realising that while I watched as everyone lived their lives, I wasn’t.

Sure, you’ve seen me around hanging out, making the odd joke here and there, having a drink or two there, maybe working on a project with friends now and again. but all the time, whenever there was a moment, I would “check my Facebook” to see what the most exciting thing is today without contributing much to it myself.

I am a social pariah, yet Facebook was still my only “in”.

No more. The people that matter to me have my number should they want to reach me and vice versa, my family have Skype (and heaven help me, soon I’ll be with them so won’t even need that), and emails galore.

I’m done with Facebook.

I don’t want to virtually compare myself to other people anymore, it’s just too draining. And to be honest, I ahve to admit that it cost me a career in my chosen field. People that wanted to trust me couldn’t because they couldn’t depend on me whether I was working for them or online seeing what “thingy-thingy is doing with their family”. To all my former colleagues, I apologise.

I’d prefer to just understand that, in this life…I’m alone.

Sorry, I know this is a depressing blog post but I am really fed up, so my relationship with Facebook is over.

Cigarettes, you’re next.

Ray Presto R.I.P. 1938 – 2012

in Comedy by
ray presto

Obituaries are a fickle sort, especially when written about someone you hardly, truely and deeply, know. Ray Presto (real name David Shaw), a retired magician and stalwart comedian on the London open-mic scene, passed away from the ranks of the down-trodden and frail, a small and weak man with all the characteristics of a downtrodden and beaten entertainer, but with the amazing twinkle of a professional who consistently plowed through to find his audience.

A lot of comedians and audiences recently remember him from his abnormal sets at the Comedy Store Gong Show, a gauntlet of boo’s and hisses from punters willing to give him the benefit of the doubt based solely on his own innocence and lack of self-awareness at his own fickle delivery.

What I didn’t know was his accomplishment as an author, publishing a book in 1972 called Choose Your Pleasure, a collection of essays of the pros and cons of hedonism and self-indulgence. You can find two more remaining books (I bought the cheapest as of writing this post) here.


Digressing back, my point is of my own meeting with him, my first and only time so far I’ve ever had to share the stage with such an amicable character. Above the Coach & Horses in Soho, prior to the Health & Safety incident with Laughing Horse beau Alex Petty (where a speaker fell on his head), we gathered in the upstairs room with a tiny group of audience members unaware of what self-destruction they’ve just got themselves in for after paying the admission fee, and us likely mirth-soldiers made awkward attempts at laughter while the survivors stood to the side pondering their failures.

And Ray, his trousers high above his waist, his spine impossibly bending to the will of the situation, went along with extremely bad puns, raising his arms in the air like Christ but with a joke, and painted everyone’s face in the room with looks of shock like a wall-painter with a brush.

I was not awed by his performance, but I was envious of his resolve. And I made the leap, which I hardly do, to ask his advice on stand-up.

Eyes as huge and reminiscint of the late Marty Feldman (Igor in “Young Frankenstein”) he glanced at me with what could only be described as incredulity at my question and then dashing his eyes left and right, responded:

“Young man, I don’t know.”

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