I Hope That DVD Technology Never Gets Usurped, Because, If It Does.....Whoops

This is the Tesco supermarket in my nearby town. It is regal, beautiful, grandiose, and really bloody big. The size and splendour of the place is staggering, as is the amount of beautiful things that they sell. They sell CD's, paint, fish, iPod docking stations, underwear, pre-cooked chicken, Scottish Grouse, and basically everything that has ever been created in the world ever. It also looks like a palace, which is fun.

(Also pictured, in a slightly less palatial way: my car's radio aerial. I am not a photographer.)

I absterse a lot of time and money in this place, and last year in there I spent more than the gross national product of Vanuatu on assorted food, wares and useless pap. A particular favourite of mine is the DVD section where, somehow, Tesco are able to sell the finest films of all time - as well as about 7 million other inferior ones - for a disgustingly cheap price. I buy them all.

(Tesco, by the way, has a sort of Wal-Mart thing going on in this country. It's a complete and total monopoly. The difference, though, is that we don't hate them.)

About two weeks ago, I travelled to this Tesco, in order to buy more DVD's that I'll then never watch. After selecting 24 films and a tin of deoderant (to balance it out), I went up to the checkout to buy my wares, so that I could hurry on home to excitedly stare at them in their packaging. (That's my style. You choose your own.)

Now, I don't know if you've ever tried sidling up to a supermarket checkout with nothing in your basket but a varied selection of DVD's (including, entirely unnecessarily, "Undercover Angel" starring Yasmine Bleeth), but it's a shame-enducing situation, and there's nothing you can do about it. As much as I may struggle to find the right body language and facial expression cobmination that will add a bit of penache to an otherwise classless scenario, such efforts will always be in vain. There is nothing that you can do except to accept your shame, and move on. This time, however, the shame was exacerbated, as my credit card was turned down. The following dialogue ensued:

"OK, that card has actually been rejected."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know, but it says it's rejected?"
"The faaaaAAAAAHHHH?" [Readers note: not sure what this noise was.]
"I'm sorry sir. Do you have another way to pay?"
"Meh."

I had another way to pay, did so, and stormed home angrily. Upon arrival, I rang Barclaycard, and demanded an explanation.

It appears that they were expecting my call. After a long back and forth that involved me proving who I am, Mr Polite Barclaycard Call Centre Man calmly informed me that my credit card had been cancelled on orders of the police, who had arrested some twat in possession of multiple stolen credit card numbers, mine included. My account had been cancelled, and a new card sent out, but at no point did they think to tell me this, thus allowing for the embarassing Tesco situation to play itself out. Sods.


The point of this story is this - I then promptly forgot to tell GoDaddy my new card details, so they forgot to tell me they stopped hosting my website. Whoops. That's a mistake that you only make twice.

And so that's why the site hasn't been working.

ShamSports.com: run by an amateur, in case you'd forgotten.