December BSD User Group

[Paul Robinson]

First up, a reminder: I'll be doing a talk before this month's meet at  
MDDA on co-working with a couple of other speakers. Details here:

http://www.manchesterdigital.com/event.asp?action=view&id=67028

Now then, It's traditional (i.e. I did it last year, but I've edited  
and updated it to make it 'better') to do the December announcement in  
this format. Apologies once again to Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863)  
who will find himself spinning in his grave once again...



Twas 20 nights before Christmas, when in the public-house
Not a device was IRQing, not even a bluetooth mouse.
The staff hung by the bar of the saloon with care,
In hopes that the BSD group would soon be there.

Several Mancunians were sat by their desks,
While visions of gadgets danced in their heads.
And geeks who were rousing, perhaps after a nap,
Were considering how to get there, aided by Google map.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
The barstaff arose to see what was the matter.
Away to the window they flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The damp, wet pavement seemed empty and bare
"Maybe this month", they thought, "they just don't care"
When, in front of their eyes what should appear?
A bunch of geeks, in their finest geek gear

With a fat bald organiser, so lively and quick,
They knew in a moment he must be "that dick".
More rapid than eagles his companions they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dave! now, Pete! now, John and Bob!
On, Richard! On, Sam! And me, the fat knob!
To the front of the bar! To the back of the pub!
Now chat away! All are welcome at our little club!"

The output of Perl scripts was their real beef,
And the staff of PC World, they wished to send a wreath.
They discussed satnav, laptops and home audio,
But BSD was their kin, and it was this they all know

Till late at night they sat in the Briton's Protection
Since 7:30pm, they had constituted quite a collection.
This Chrismas meet, on the 4th December,
Sure to be one they'd be too drunk to remember

To those who don't know this fine old place
50 Great Bridgewater Street is where we grace
To find us friends amongst a pub of UNIX foes
Just look at our faces, sunburnt from CRT glows

Our tubby organiser asks all who intend to come along
To let him know, so he doesn't end up looking a mong
To those who can not attend, despite intentions so dear,
We say to you "Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!"