Metchosin enters the Tavern, tired after floundering about for the last couple of weeks, drags its great ponderous bulk to a corner and beaches itself upon two chairs, immediately starting a conversation with itself.

"Oh dear! …. Why did it come up like that?….all run together and stuff?" Metchosin asks looking dazed and confused

"Because you forgot the little "br" thingies again, you blithering idiot!" Metchosin admonishes itself.

"Oh……….Gee, how come I posted that answer to that question and it didn't show up until about thirty other people had answered and my answer didn't make sense anymore?" asks Metchosin, still looking dazed and confused."

"You fool! What do you expect when you leave the screen up, wander out of the room for half an hour and don't punch Send 'till you return!" says Metchosin, getting exasperated with itself.

"Ahhh I see….But its still not coming up like I sent it," Metchosin whines.

"For the umpteenth time Metchosin! Don't try and get cute and type the "br" thingies twice at the end of a line, once is enough already!"

"Oh, O.K… But those guys were sooo rude to me when I added my two cents worth to that thread," Metchosin blubbers.

"For gawds sakes Metchosin! Slow down and read what's being said, they weren't saying that your rant was too long and unreal, they were talking about something else entirely and to each other, not you," Metchosin admonishes itself again.

"I know how to spell those words, really I do. Did I really spell it like that? Oh I didn't spell it like that, surely! I thought I checked the spelling before I hit the button! oh jeeeez, I must look like an illiterate boob!" Metchosin cringes.

"Look you self centered twerp, nobody cares about your bleeding spelling. It's not a test! There is no Miss Worthington to tell you 'your not very good with your hands, are you my dear'. Stop this whingeing and get on with what you have to say! Substance over form my dear."

"But I'd like to join in on a chat too," pouts Metchosin.

"Just be patient Metchosin, you're still typing at minus twenty while looking at the keyboard and not the screen. You'll understand all the ins and outs of this site…Eventually….I hope," Metchosin trails off, "There, there, have a good belt of single malt instead" says Metchosin, trying to comfort itself.

"A Highland Park, please, please!" Metchosin implores.

"Are you buying?" Metchosin replies to itself indignantly.

"No, I thought you were." Metchosin looks stunned.

"In that case, we'd better make it a Blue."

Metchosin, seated on its three ample buttocks, sighs with resignation and stares off into space.