Curse all hackers, malingerers from spam land and crazed purveyors of herbal ecstasy, weaving their convoluted and largely automated way across internet land. Bolo, already stricken by the busyness of its staple contributors was contaminated by people looking to fill the site with links to cheerleader websites, credit card phish nonsense and shovel loads of monkey dust.
Its apprehensive and occasionally proud father, I attempted to save it, clearing out the worst of the filth and keeping an eye on the bandwidth, watching for spikes of viewing caused by security breaches, but they came too thick and fast. Too many weasels in this world these days and not enough time outside of the credit crunch design company late night, rinseout hours to put pen to paper, to tap fingers on keys.
So it went, but now its back. Shielded by the finest in plumbait protection, anti-perspirant of the spam jacker variety and a shot of methedrine in the praxial nerve. Temporarily without design template, but exact and still resounding in words, ideas and thoughtless Saturday night rib breakings. Cast up, hear ye me hearteys as Captain Haddock no doubt never said, rolling up your sleeves for a brand new month, the end of an insipient year and the last shadows of twenties zeitgeist with better trainers, but far too few remaining brain cells.