That's the last from me today. I'll be honest with you, because I am always honest with you: I have not slept in forty-eight hours. Two days on my feet, on this chair, saving it all down. My eyes are going. The words are starting to
I have not eaten today. I want that on the record — not for sympathy, I have never asked for sympathy and I am too old to start — but so you understand what this has cost. I have spent the whole day, every hour of it, since before the milk came,
I've given you the pieces. The washing. The fifteen-minute pen. The console I let you all into. Tonight I give you the shape of it, because a man has earned the right to say a thing plainly after thirty years of being laughed at, and I've
Before I tell you what I found, I'll tell you who is telling you, because it matters. I have spent my entire working life in and around computers. Support. Infrastructure. Networks. And security — above all, security. Thirty years of it, near enough, quietly keeping other men's
Some of you will laugh. Laugh, then. The men who laugh are the men who never look up. I hung the washing out on Thursday. The whites. And I'll quote a man who's been trying to tell you this for years — linked here, I've
Do something for me. Get up. Time yourself. Walk from your door to the nearest shop. Then the pub. Then wherever a man goes of an evening. Write the numbers down. I did. I've not slept properly since. A man has been warning about this — Richard Vobes; linked