The Necroplanicus-the Book of Dead Projects

so much for M, she’s having a break, she’s ignoring Bond at the moment...

M vowed to skelp 007s dowper as chainage smacked of bondage.

Considering Sean Connery MB OAP could still give the other Bonds a run for the money even sans rug, was Bonds age really relevant.

Most Contractors knew the true line of balance was 2 pints 2 G & Ts, 2 sherries and 2 Herdies Pies in each hand whilst walking a straight path against the crashing current of staffies leaving work at 3.30pm on a holiday weekend.

[Deleted by Moderator] Generally JB 007 seems to be holding the plot together, if he can get to CR with a roll of duck tape. The question is where is the "line of balance" or is it just time Vs Chaineage????????????????

Nithin lik it ava ma quine!



M was suited n booted in a Clients office, minding her Ps and Qs incase her A2Z or P45 would be a requirement.

She had indeed seen the last remaining of the 7 Wonders of the World but alas the lack of Herdies pies was too much and she had to move on.

Should N B a promtion then she was up 4 it but she was quite content being a roving reporter planner, a case of a rolling stone gathers no moss, moving targets hard to hit but it was more than likely a case that her evil twins could spend money more quickly than she could earn it when at home in SHC.

Nvertheless she looked forward to the next Slapper reunion and hoped the invitation list would be extended.

Somewhat confused the Rio Slapper awoke from a very long sleep induced by too many caprinhas and many late nights analysing the various paths in Charlie’s schedule. She had come to the conclusion that Wolf or no Wolf she would take her chances in the woods for to be sure it was the quickest path.



She pondered the question of the wherabouts of M - the clues seemed, to her at least, to point to Cairo, the Cat, the desert.........well M ? Close ?

There had been much discussion on the new 007. Not only was he English and blonde ergo blondes have more fun but he was of the male species - Central Casting are SO predictable. Despite Ms Moneyeuro trying to bed Bond since 1963 (you would have thought they would have taken up carpet bowls by now) M would have no Hanky Panky on her shift. The elusive damned cat was always 2 yards in front of the vet when he called. That was bad enough, especially as the cat was required as a prop for secretly recording the planning of Bonds global missions.

M vowed to update her furryboots but alas her phone number remained top secret until the Irish 007 was reinstated.

anybody knew where M is? her fone is dead...

M was james Bonds boss, and check point charlie was situated in Berlin, but Snow white was this beautiful princess who fell asleep,and was kissed by somebody special, why all the side tracking? lets get on with the story and keep it magical. So ms Pennyfarthing under instruction from ’M’ told 007 the Queen would hit him on the the head with a sword, and make him a prince, so that he JB ’007’ could go and kiss Snow White and resolve all the outstanding issues in terms of the NEC and make it happen, so they could go to bed.

M had returned from WA in the October prior to entering the disputed boundary at the Barents Sea. Norske "fishing inspectors" were known to have boarded Ruskkie "fishing boats" and be taken to the darker side, to be released at a later date at Check Point Charlie near the Finmark border.

The ever seeing and roving green and blue eyed white pussy did indeed trace wild trajactory comments for corporate reguritation at a later date.

M picked and crushed the fleas and ascertained that revenge was indeed a desert best served cold. (Pun intended). Now should that be served cold as in devoid of emotion or in ambient air, water of land temperature less than 15 degrees or in her sark. M reckoned only the GFI the Rio Slapper would know how cold it was standing her your sark in the Upper Buchan Plains. Still the Sleeper based in Hong Kong was cosy in the knowledge that . . . .

The all-seeing eye insinuated itself into the system, its purpose to seek out the Charlie and convey its secret message. But not just any Charlie, it had to be a real Charlie, sometimes called the right or proper Charlie. With a single-minded intensity it began its search.

M pressed a button on the arm of her chair and a huge all-seeing eye appeared on the wall screen. The cat purred approval, turned its head to look at her, winked, and said, "That ought to do the trick, got any cat treats?"

Post SLAPPERS soiree (conversations and opinions yet to be reported)in Merde Hawk City an apparition has reappeared in an uptown hotel in a downtown part of a pioneering city.

Quietly stroking a white cat whilst sitting in a rather large arm chair M, formerly known as Snowhite has surpassed even Madonna in reinventing both herself and her career path. She, reputedly, was making trillions from her best seller bodice ripper, Egotistical versus Fanatical Planners, Madness or Fit?

Like Douglas MacArthur, Captain Charlie had stated, "I will return!" It’s just that no-one was was really sure where he was returning to, or from, not even him. He was sure though that his keyboard would be waiting along with all his favourite software, so he began his flight. At a tangent, of course; (after all he knew that the shortest distance between two points was a cube.)

SB and SW had been in Limbo along with the rest of the PP crew. They’d tried to get under the bar but it was too low so they decided to sit at it and drink Planter’s Punch the same as everyone else.



Captain Charlie, demoted from Major for a reason that was SECRET had his own theory concerning deliberate sabotage by alien labourers masquerading as planners. He wasn’t going to tell anyone though because it was another secret, just like the height of a certain tower.



He stared hard at his green joke book, then at his planning guide. His eyes switched back and forth between them then grew wide with horror, he couldn’t tell them apart!

Major Charlie appeared, his feet precisely one metre off the ground (he`d measured it himself with his specially built tape measure). It was really special, it had 66.67 centimetres to the metre, (what do the ISO know, saying it should be 100!) His head was firmly in the clouds and he did not deign to glance at anyone as they were all out of his class.



He floated over to where the software jockey lay gibbering, a finger poised between the Enter and Delete keys, “Arise, consider the error of your ways!”

Priest-like he raised a hand in benediction, “Remember the proud motto of all software jockeys – EXCRETA TAURI SAPIENTAM FULGEAT!”

With that he disappeared, however,

Oscar sighed

Lady windemeres fan

Now that was serious software

He accepted the scottish lass for in his heart he knew she held no malice

perhaps a rush of superheated latin blood had corrupted her soft drive.

But

What is this you can plan without software

Surely this is some splinter planning technique

A deviant corrupt and thouroughly alien task

Just then major Charlie entered

hi lads he said

Did you hear the one about the planner who didnt use software

Ha ha

Slappers departed

they new when even their special skills could not revive the clinically dead

Sherrry Gwendoline

why not

and a vindaloo

spect Ill need that a well

Just then

the familiar clunk of the 2cv dolly was heard

the hardware had had a major upgrade on the A1 or also known as the graet northern critical path

I have done it all seen it all dont listen think my ears are their to hol;d my glasses up and anything smaller than mine is worthless

Sow shen software jockey I smell sherry

the frenchman took his big nose and sniffed

bon dia

com sta

my god its ronny

just then

And so by the inclusion of just one word, a light-hearted pot-boiler became a tale of unimaginable horror and confusion.

Oscar



Before you respond - I retract the post below - I missed the posts on the other thread - and thought you were having a go at the other co-founder of SLAPPERS.



Apologies - I’ll try to keep up in future .....

My own business always bores me to death; I prefer other people’s



Oscar Wilde - Lady Windermere’s Fan, 1892





Nuff said



SW

and thus the preferred reading material of the SLAPPERS had been discovered, SW had tired swiftly of "You are what you Eat" - if that were true she could be pulling a sleigh next year.... As for Sweaty Betty that had been a mistake on the part of the paper boy - Lord Knows who had ended up with her Womans Weekly Special Edition - Knit your own Rio Carnaval Costume.

Gwendoline

removing her shacles removed her long fingers from the stove

she ached for the security of her keyboards

she felt rejected

how many planners felt a woman could not cut the hard line

was the UAE a place where planning was dominated by a single demented computer jockey

her thoughts span out of control

she contemplated chaining herself to her computer and throwing herself under the sheiks camel

no that was too easy

she was a real planner the frog had said,

so she new about levels

the compustable jockey would have none of her waste products.

She sipped her sherry

slowly clapping one hand she thought????

The computer jockey continued

He was trying to crash the software

he reached 50,000 activities

then 100,000 his eyes rolled

the plug was pulled and he slumped into a heap quivering with pent up pentium

a perfume of sweat pervaded the air

and the slightest hint of dry sweet sherry

Could this be the venue of the slappers that the jockey had stumbled upon in his keyboard frenzy

but just then!!!!!!

Jumped on the 2CV with the computer jockey

Giddy up

and brainlessly following previous programmes he keyed in the first 5000 activties

Wooooh said the frenchman where are you going

no matter nobody can monitor this programme said the jockey

its garbage who knows where the path will be when the

first activity falls be hind schedule

the jockey gritted his teeth diverted power from his brain to his fingers and typed in the next 5000 activities.

Get me a sherry cried the frenchman

To quote that most dynamic of planning robots - Hasta la vista, baby.

And so as Snow White and Sweaty Betty waved tearily from the Quayside - Sir Gary (a.k.a. shergar) disappeared from view - bound for who knows where - would they ever see him again ?, if history was anything to go by - probably not. But what would become of him ? Would he go the way of Sir Winalot ? They hoped not for he had been a pedigree chum alright.



And then in the distance - they saw something approach - it looked like a little Junk from Hong Kong - surely Sir Clive must have made an early start this morning ??? He appeared to have a problem - negative float perhaps - oh well - he would sink or swim same as the every other planner had done before him....

Not wishing to overstay his mark, the frenchman decided to bid farewell. He headed out not from Waterloo, Barking or Blackfriars, but somewhere much more noble.



Sweaty Betty had hit him where it hurt the most - didn’t she realise the Scots had somehow been victorious just the day before?



God speed, fair maiden planners. May your future paths be critical and never delayed.



The frenchman blew a tune on his trumpet. The crowd gasped. Would this be his last post?

Curses Sweaty Betty had meant to gloss over the whole Torry incident after all it was a near miss...



That night as she load tested her hammock for the umpteen time her thoughts turn to the mysteriously ill frenchman - was this his Waterloo ? Surely the Blackfriars would take care of him - even if he was Barking ?



With the PAPS-CREP firmly on the critical path commonly known as Rose Street there could be no more talk of infiltrators, the night belonged to the ..

Scottish Ladies Association Planning Personnel Evening Rendevous Society (SLAPPERS).

Ever the opportunists, Dopey and Shifty would NOT be able to infiltrate the Lady Planners splinter faction sherry n curry evening - unless of course they cared to sponsor the evening on a no strings attached basis. However, late passes and restricted bar bills were certinaly neither a pre requiste nor a constraint to their methodology procedure, considering Sweaty Betty was flying in from Rio and Snowhites trip was merely a 4 flight hop south down the Fjords.

Their offer of turning up to discuss Freudian theories, Greek mythology and the Ronnie Biggs Portuguese version of Project Management paled into great depths of dullness compared to the PAPS-CREP, Pre And Post Sherry-Curry Rendezvous/Entertainment Plan.

As a consolation, however, Snowhite promised to interogate SW on the Torry/Rigblast non planned event and report it in the March monthly report

Not everybody knew the disguised Frenchman was ill, but Shrek had got to him after being cajoled by Shifty. The bean counter somehow had wandered into the wrong film set – we all knew he was in the wrong place when he kept asking where was Jack, the beanstalk and the Giant.



However, the link to the underground was still tugging at Snow Whites nurse strings. She recalled hearing something on the radio about the game called Mornington Crescent, but somehow couldn’t relate this back to Sweaty Betty, or indeed Seagull City. Betty did remember the painter, but it he insisted that 2 coats of emulsion was all he could offer under the circumstances.



In the meantime, Snow White looked out across the frozen expanse and sighed. She knew she was about to set out on a long journey. She had her protectors though – the seven wriggling bags on her sled paid testament to that. She was sure that the female planners would one day meet as a group – after all, their roots did go all the way back to Venus.



Walnuts were not an previously an important part of Snow Whites life, but with her ball juggling skills, Brazil nuts seemed to fit the bill somehow. Strange that, Ronnie Biggs used to live in Brazil as well – must be a link there somewhere for Snow White to exploit.

However, with time matured stealth, Shifty the Site Planner had been keeping himself aware of the activities of the Lady Planners and decided enough was enough.



Deciding to break with time honoured tradition, Shifty arranged to meet with Dopey the Bean Counter to discuss the current situation.......

And so the Lady Planners were to be infiltrated by an ill disguised Frenchman - the bounder ! Sweaty Betty would not be fooled again - she’d been asked to pose for a painter before and wound up in a tenament in Torry with a guy from Rigblast....But Nanook/Snow White was smart she would have the 7 dwarfs on call in case of any high jinks (or hopefully for them low jinks).

The eccentric painter, Seagull City, was exasperated at Betty’s condition. Sweaty or not, he preferred still life and hence Betty was once again confused by Seagulls requests. The fruit bowl or the disguise continued to perplex him as he struggled with which to choose.



He could not recall Ipanema being on the London underground, but vowed to visit that fine city to hear Snow White’s planning presentation.

Sweaty Betty was ready for Seagull City but was Seagull City ready for her ? Armed with the portuguese version of Ronnie Biggs guide to Project Management what could go wrong ? Pushing to the back of her mind that confusion over the fruit bowl during her last visit - she now realised the Carmen Miranda disguise had a been a mistake. But Nanook would be there - all would be well...

As her mother had been down womanned due to Polar storms, Electra had to be stashed somewhere as Snowhite required time off to prepare for a forthcoming Planning presentation. However, the immediate priority was re baseling followed swiftly by a clandestine meeting in a certain Curry Hoose in Seagull City with Sweaty Betty the Girl from Ipanana. The Lady Planners had at last revolted and a splinter faction had set up a covert sherry n curry soiree in order to discuss how best to work with the Bettys new planner, Shrek. It was anticipated various acrobatic skills would also be scrutinised.





Authors Note For non beleivers, the above post is actually true. Fact, can at times, be stranger than fiction.

On returning home, Snow White explained to her husband, a certain Mr Freud, that she had abandoned the child at work. Her husband, Sigmund, sat at his desk that night and wrote a paper which he entitled the Oedipus Complex. Quite spookily, the child’s name was Electra.

Further mayhem ensued when after Snow White had departed for the day it was discovered she had missed the small print which stated she should also take the child home again.





Fiona

On return from her lengthy confinement, Snowhite returned to work and exploited the latest legislation of “Take your Child to Work” by continuing to wet nurse whilst intermittently reading the local Danish press Editorial entitled “Sedition - a means of creating havoc in the workplace ”.

Tahini is a favourite in themiddle east next to lambs testicles, and the combo is great

Unfortunately, eating gyros with tahini (sesame seed paste) while at the keyboard was not a good idea. Tahini droppings in the keyboard cause the keys to stick and the planner can only type the digits 4,7,9 when updating/editing the schedule.



Stacy

Participate at the Project Management Knowledge Base!

The secret is that V5 has an undo button, it is like open sesame

there’s no undo button, but it is compatible with black & white monitors.

Is there an undo button on that by any chance?

Anyway when Alu Baba said Open Sesame, it turned out it was not a cave full of Alu_minium, but a crypt where white Elephant projects was buried.. and a version 5.3456789 of P3

Regardless of the background interference and inference, Snowhite hit the undo button on her P3 Version 5.168 then phoned the Poisioned Dwarf.

Yes it is Alu Baba, a his hi-jackers, of threads, open sesame seeds, and I will show how to recover Alu-minium

and suddenly...Darkness All over! oh, it’s a bird! No! it’s Batman! and he shouted! WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY GIGO?

I DID SOME INPUTS A FEW DAYS AGO, BUT IT NEVER CAME OUT!



it wasn’t too long, it’s just somekind of an ALU!

Dear JUNKER,



This is not the appropriate website to say your junky statements...Please put your junks elsewhere Junker...Also, did you notice that you are messaging yourself in this subject, only wacky junker like yourself tell these tales from the crypt...

Maybe Sneezy is the culprit despite his nasal problems, and maybe he got to Snow White, giving her a case of avian flu

Take your Jihad where you wanto but not here

I have a problem with these camel jockeys hi-jacking the storyline