They’re Watching Us

A few days have passed since the departure of the Groover and I feel sufficiently rested to impose myself on all those who are prepared to read. I won’t go into the details of his stay here, suffice to say that good crack was had by all, but its his tour and I’ll save the story telling for him.

However, there is something that spilled out of his journey to Nag Towers that both pleases and unsettles me. It was on the Saturday night, the last of his stay here, and we were still feeling somewhat delicate after the indulgences of the previous evening. It was a blustery evening and we’d made the short hop down the hill to the Railway Inn, possibly the best pub in the universe. Idle chitchat followed, and the conversation eventually made its way to the Bolo website.

Now, some or all of you may be aware of this already, but this is not something that has ever flittered its merry little way across my withered grey cells in the short time I’ve been coming here. The Groover informs me that he has all manner of magic at his disposal when it comes to this site, including the power to know how many people view the site and how they got here. Apparently, Bolo is averaging about 50 hits per day and even if all who post on here were to come every day – sometimes multiple times – that would not account for half that figure.

This begs several questions: Who are these people? What the hell do they want? Friend or foe? Do any of them like cheese? and, Why don’t they communicate with us? (Groover informs me that anyone can use the ‘comments’ facility).

On the one hand, perhaps we’ve achieved some small degree of notoriety, but on the other I suddenly feel violated. I mean, some of these people drift in by accident, searching for words or phrases that have cropped up in recent posts, such as ‘Toby Anstis’ or ‘have a wank’, but then there are others who must purposely drop in from time to time, satisfying their voyeuristic tendencies in a nameless, faceless way.

But I’ve quickly come to the conclusion that these folks should be given the benefit of the doubt, and I want to extend our warmest greetings to them. If you’re reading this, you know who you are. I urge you to make yourselves known to us, step out of the shadows and leave your comments freely all over this article like a young Eskimo boy pissing in the snow for the very first time. Tell us who you are, what you’re doing here and, most importantly, what your favourite kind of cheese is.