nostalgia – Dan Q

How an RM Nimbus Taught Me a Hacker Mentality

What can I make it do?

It’s been said that when faced with a new piece of technology, a normal person asks “what does it do?”, but a hacker asks “what can I make it do?”.

This kind of curiosity is integral to a hacker mindset.

I can trace my hacker roots back further than my first experience of using an RM Nimbus M-Series in circa 1992². But there was something particular about my experience of this popular piece of British edutech kit which provided me with a seminal experience that shaped my “hacker identity”. And it’s that experience about which I’d like to tell you:

Shortly after I started secondary school, they managed to upgrade their computer lab from a handful of Nimbus PC-186s to a fancy new network of M-Series PC-386s. The school were clearly very proud of this cutting-edge new acquisition, and we watched the teachers lay out the manuals and worksheets which smelled fresh and new and didn’t yet have their corners frayed nor their covers daubed in graffiti.

Program Manager

The new ones ran Windows 3 (how fancy!). Well… kind-of. They’d been patched with a carefully-modified copy of Program Manager that imposed a variety of limitations. For example, they had removed the File > Run… menu item, along with an icon for File Manager, in order to restrict access to only the applications approved by the network administrator.

A special program was made available to copy files between floppy disks and the user’s network home directory. This allowed a student to take their work home with them if they wanted. The copying application – whose interface was vastly inferior to File Manager‘s – was limited to only copying files with extensions in its allowlist. This meant that (given that no tool was available that could rename files) the network was protected from anybody introducing any illicit file types.

Bring a .doc on a floppy? You can copy it to your home directory. Bring a .exe? You can’t even see it.

To young-teen-Dan, this felt like a challenge. What I had in front of me was a general-purpose computer with a limited selection of software but a floppy drive through which media could be introduced. What could I make it do?

This isn’t my school’s computer lab circa mid-1990s (it’s this school) but it has absolutely the same energy. Except that I think Solitaire was one of the applications that had been carefully removed from Program Manager.

Spoiler: eventually I ended up being able to execute pretty much anything I wanted, but we’ll get to that. The journey is the important part of the story. I didn’t start by asking “can I trick this locked-down computer lab into letting my friends and I play Doom deathmatches on it?” I started by asking “what can I make it do?”; everything else built up over time.

I started by playing with macros. Windows used to come with a tool called Recorder,³ which you could use to “record” your mouse clicks and keypresses and play them back.

Recorder + Paintbrush made for an interesting way to use these basic and limited tools to produce animations. Like this one, except at school I’d have put more effort in⁴.

Microsoft Word

Then I noticed that Microsoft Word also had a macro recorder, but this one was scriptable using a programming language called WordBasic (a predecessor to Visual Basic for Applications). So I pulled up the help and started exploring what it could do.

And as soon as I discovered the Shell function, I realised that the limitations that were being enforced on the network could be completely sidestepped.

Screenshot showing Microsoft Word's 'Macro Editor' on Windows 3.1. The subroutine being defined contains the code 'Shell("WINFILE.EXE")'; the 'Shell' command is described in the WordBasic Help file, which is also visible. — A Windows 3 computer that runs Word… can run any other executable it has access to. Thanks, macro editor.

Now that I could run any program I liked, I started poking the edges of what was possible.

Could I get a MS-DOS prompt/command shell? Yes, absolutely⁵.
Could I write to the hard disk drive? Yes, but any changes got wiped when the computer performed its network boot.
Could I store arbitrary files in my personal network storage? Yes, anything I could bring in on floppy disks⁶ could be persisted on the network server.

I didn’t have a proper LAN at home⁷ So I really enjoyed the opportunity to explore, unfettered, what I could get up to with Windows’ network stack.

Screenshot from Windows 3.11; a Microsoft Paint window is partially-concealed behind a WinChat conversation with 'RMNET013'. The other participant is warning the user to look busy and stop drawing dicks in Paint because the teacher is coming. The user is responding with confusion. — The “WinNuke” NetBIOS remote-crash vulnerability was a briefly-entertaining way to troll classmates, but unlocking WinPopup/Windows Chat capability was ultimately more-rewarding.

File Manager

I started to explore the resources on the network. Each pupil had their own networked storage space, but couldn’t access one another’s. But among the directories shared between all students, I found a directory to which I had read-write access.

I created myself a subdirectory and set the hidden bit on it, and started dumping into it things that I wanted to keep on the network⁸.

By now my classmates were interested in what I was achieving, and I wanted in the benefits of my success. So I went back to Word and made a document template that looked superficially like a piece of coursework, but which contained macro code that would connect to the shared network drive and allow the user to select from a series of programs that they’d like to run.

Gradually, compressed over a series of floppy disks, I brought in a handful of games: Commander Keen, Prince of Persia, Wing Commander, Civilization, Wolfenstein 3D, even Dune II. I got increasingly proficient at modding games to strip out unnecessary content, e.g. the sound and music files⁹, minimising the number of floppy disks I needed to ZIP (or ARJ!) content to before smuggling it in via my shirt pocket, always sure not to be carrying so many floppies that it’d look suspicious.

Screenshot of Windows 3.11 File Manager connected to a network with shares rmnet, shared, and students. Shared contains a hidden directory called 'dan'. — The goldmine moment – for my friends, at least – was the point at which I found a way to persistently store files in a secret shared location, allowing me to help them run whatever they liked *without passing floppy disks around the classroom* (which had been my previous approach).

In a particularly bold move, I implemented a simulated login screen which wrote the entered credentials into the shared space before crashing the computer. I left it running, unattended, on computers that I thought most-likely to be used by school staff, and eventually bagged myself the network administrator’s password. I only used it twice: the first time, to validate my hypothesis about the access levels it granted; the second, right before I finished school, to confirm my suspicion that it wouldn’t have been changed during my entire time there¹⁰.

Are you sure you want to quit?

My single biggest mistake was sharing my new-found power with my classmates. When I made that Word template that let others run the software I’d introduced to the network, the game changed.

When it was just me, asking the question what can I make it do?, everything was fun and exciting.

But now half a dozen other teens were nagging me and asking “can you make it do X?”

This wasn’t exploration. This wasn’t innovation. This wasn’t using my curiosity to push at the edges of a system and its restrictions! I didn’t want to find the exploitable boundaries of computer systems so I could help make it easier for other people to do so… no: I wanted the challenge of finding more (and weirder) exploits!

I wanted out. But I didn’t want to say to my friends that I didn’t want to do something “for” them any more¹¹.

I figured: I needed to get “caught”.

16-bit Windows screenshot with a background image from WarGames. A dialog box asks 'Are you sure you want to quit? If you quit, you will lose the ability to: (a) use network chat tools, (b) play videogames awhen you should be doing coursework, (c) impress your friends and raise your otherwise-pathetic social status'; the cursor hovers over a 'Yes, I'm out' button. — I considered just using graphics software to make these screenshots… but it turned out to be faster to spin up a network of virtual machines running Windows 3.11 and some basic tools. I *actually made* the stupid imaginary dialog box you’re seeing.¹²

I chose… to get sloppy.

I took a copy of some of the software that I’d put onto the shared network drive and put it in my own home directory, this time un-hidden. Clearly our teacher was already suspicious and investigating, because within a few days, this was all that was needed for me to get caught and disciplined¹³.

I was disappointed not to be asked how I did it, because I was sufficiently proud of my approach that I’d hoped to be able to brag about it to somebody who’d understand… but I guess our teacher just wanted to brush it under the carpet and move on.

Aftermath

The school’s IT admin certainly never worked-out the true scope of my work. My “hidden” files remained undiscovered, and my friends were able to continue to use my special Word template to play games that I’d introduced to the network¹⁴. I checked, and the hidden files were still there when I graduated.

The warning worked: I kept my nose clean in computing classes for the remainder of secondary school. But I would’ve been happy to, anyway: I already felt like I’d “solved” the challenge of turning the school computer network to my interests and by now I’d moved on to other things… learning how to reverse-engineer phone networks… and credit card processors… and copy-protection systems. Oh, the stories I could tell¹⁵.

Old photograph of Dan, then a teenager, with other teenagers. Dan is labelled 'young hacker, a.k.a. bellend', while another young man is captioned 'classmate who just wanted to play lemmings'. — I “get” it that some of my classmates – including some of those pictured – were mostly interested in the *results* of my hacking efforts. But for me it always was – and still is – about the *journey of discovery*.

But I’ll tell you what: 13-ish year-old me ought to be grateful to the RM Nimbus network at my school for providing an interesting system about which my developing “hacker brain” could ask: what can I make it do?

Which remains one of the most useful questions with which to foster a hacker mentality.

Footnotes

¹ I first played Game of Life on an Amstrad CPC464, or possibly a PC1512.

² What is the earliest experience to which I can credit my “hacker mindset”? Tron and WarGames might have played a part, as might have the “hacking” sequence in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. And there was the videogame Hacker and its sequel (it’s funny to see their influence in modern games). Teaching myself to program so that I could make text-based adventures was another. Dissecting countless obfuscated systems to see how they worked… that’s yet another one: something I did perhaps initially to cheat at games by poking their memory addresses or hexediting their save games… before I moved onto reverse-engineering copy protection systems and working out how they could be circumvented… and then later still when I began building hardware that made it possible for me to run interesting experiments on telephone networks.

Any of all of these datapoints, which took place over a decade, could be interpreted as “the moment” that I became a hacker! But they’re not the ones I’m talking about today. Today… is the story of the RM Nimbus.

³ Whatever happened to Recorder? After it disappeared in Windows 95 I occasionally had occasion to think to myself “hey, this would be easier if I could just have the computer watch me and copy what I do a few times.” But it was not to be: Microsoft decided that this level of easy automation wasn’t for everyday folks. Strangely, it wasn’t long after Microsoft dropped macro recording as a standard OS feature that Apple decided that MacOS did need a feature like this. Clearly it’s still got value as a concept!

⁴ Just to clarify: I put more effort in to making animations, which were not part of my schoolwork back when I was a kid. I certainly didn’t put more effort into my education.

⁵ The computers had been configured to make DOS access challenging: a boot menu let you select between DOS and Windows, but both were effectively nerfed. Booting into DOS loaded an RM-provided menu that couldn’t be killed; the MS-DOS prompt icon was absent from Program Manager and quitting Windows triggered an immediate shutdown.

⁶ My secondary school didn’t get Internet access during the time I was enrolled there. I was recently trying to explain to one of my kids the difference between “being on a network” and “having Internet access”, and how often I found myself on a network that wasn’t internetworked, back in the day. I fear they didn’t get it.

⁷ I was in the habit of occasionally hooking up PCs together with null modem cables, but only much later on would I end up acquiring sufficient “thinnet” 10BASE2 kit that I could throw together a network for a LAN party.

⁸ Initially I was looking to sidestep the space limitation enforcement on my “home” directory, and also to put the illicit software I was bringing in somewhere that could not be trivially-easily traced back to me! But later on this “shared” directory became the repository from which I’d distribute software to my friends, too.

⁹ The school computer didn’t have soundcards and nobody would have wanted PC speakers beeping away in the classroom while they were trying to play a clandestine videogame anyway.

¹⁰ The admin password was concepts. For at least four years.

¹¹ Please remember that at this point I was a young teenager and so was pretty well over-fixated on what my peers thought of me! A big part of the persona I presented was of somebody who didn’t care what others thought of him, I’m sure, but a mask that doesn’t look like a mask… is still a mask. But yeah: I had a shortage of self-confidence and didn’t feel able to say no.

¹² Art is weird when your medium is software.

¹³ I was briefly alarmed when there was talk of banning me from the computer lab for the remainder of my time at secondary school, which scared me because I was by now half-way through my boring childhood “life plan” to become a computer programmer by what seemed to be the appropriate route, and I feared that not being able to do a GCSE in a CS-adjacent subject could jeopardise that (it wouldn’t have).

¹⁴ That is, at least, my friends who were brave enough to carry on doing so after the teacher publicly (but inaccurately) described my alleged offences, seemingly as a warning to others.

¹⁵ Oh, the stories I probably shouldn’t tell! But here’s a teaser: when I built my first “beige box” (analogue phone tap hardware) I experimented with tapping into the phone line at my dad’s house from the outside. I carefully shaved off some of the outer insulation of the phone line that snaked down the wall from the telegraph pole and into the house through the wall to expose the wires inside, identified each, and then croc-clipped my box onto it and was delighted to discovered that I could make and receive calls “for” the house. And then, just out of curiosity to see what kinds of protections were in place to prevent short-circuiting, I experimented with introducing one to the ringer line… and took out all the phones on the street. Presumably I threw a circuit breaker in the roadside utility cabinet. Anyway, I patched-up my damage and – fearing that my dad would be furious on his return at the non-functioning telecomms – walked to the nearest functioning payphone to call the operator and claim that the phone had stopped working and I had no idea why. It was fixed within three hours. Phew!

The internet’s hidden creative renaissance (and how to find it)

This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.

Have you ever wished there were more to the internet than the same handful of apps and sites you toggle between every day? Then you’re in for a treat.

Welcome to the indie web, a vibrant and underrated part of the internet, aesthetically evocative of the late 1990s and early 2000s. Here, the focus is on personal websites, authentic self-expression, and slow, intentional exploration driven by curiosity and interest.

These kinds of sites took a backseat to the mainstream web around the advent of big social media platforms, but recently the indie web has been experiencing a revival, as more netizens look for connection outside the walled gardens created by tech giants. And with renewed interest comes a new generation of website owner-operators, intent on reclaiming their online experience from mainstream social media imperatives of growth and profit.

…

BlogTherapy and Josh Kramer, in The internet’s hidden creative renaissance (and how to find it)

I want to like this article. It draws attention to the indieweb, smolweb, independent modern personal web, or whatever you want to call it. It does so in a way that inspires interest. And by way of example, it features several of my favourite retronauts. Awesome.

But it feels painfully ironic to read this article… on Substack!

Substack goes… let’s say half-way… to representing the opposite of what the indieweb movement is about! Sure, Substack isn’t Facebook or Twitter… but it’s still very much in the same place as, say, Medium, in that it’s a place where you go if you want other people to be in total control of your Web presence.

The very things that the author praises of the indieweb – its individuality and personality, its freedom control by opaque corporate policies, its separation from the “same handful of apps and sites you toggle between every day” – are exactly the kinds of things that Substack fails to provide.

It’s hardly the biggest thing to hate about Substack, mind – that’d probably be their continued platforming of Covid conspriacy theorists and white nationalist hate groups. But it’s still a pretty big irony to hear the indieweb praised there!

Soo… nice article, shame about the platform it’s published on, I guess?

Nostalgia, Music, and Computers

Duration 18:24

Podcast Version

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This is a blog post about things that make me nostalgic for other things that, objectively, aren’t very similar…

When I hear Dawnbreaker, I feel like I’m nine years old…

…and I’ve been allowed to play OutRun on the arcade cabinet at West View Leisure Centre. My swimming lesson has finished, and normally I should go directly home.

On those rare occasions I could get away¹ with a quick pause in the lobby for a game, I’d gravitate towards the Wonderboy machine. But there was something about the tactile controls of OutRun‘s steering wheel and pedals that gave it a physicality that the “joystick and two buttons” systems couldn’t replicate.

The other thing about OutRun was that it always felt… fast. Like, eye-wateringly fast. This was part of what gave it such appeal².

OutRun‘s main theme, Magical Sound Shower, doesn’t actually sound much like Dawnbreaker. But both tracks somehow feel like… “driving music”?

(It should, I suppose: Metrik wrote Dawnbreaker explicitly for that purpose in the first place, for use in a videogame I haven’t played³.)

But somehow when I’m driving or cycling and it this song comes on, I’m instantly transported back to those occasionally-permitted childhood games of OutRun⁴.

When I start a new Ruby project, I feel like I’m eleven years old…

…and I’m writing Locomotive BASIC on the family’s Amstrad CPC. Like many self-taught coders in the 1980s, my journey as a programmer begin with BASIC. When I transitioned from that to more “grown-up” languages⁵ I missed the feeling of programming in an environment where every line brought me joy.

Animation of an Amstrad CPC 6128 on which a program is typed and then executed. The program clears the screen and then prints the message 'Thanks for visiting DANQ.ME". — It’s not quite a `HELLO WORLD`, but it’s pretty-similar.

At first I assumed that the tedious bits and the administrative overhead (linking, compiling, syntactical surprises, arcane naming conventions…) was just what “real”, “grown-up” programming was supposed to feel like. But Ruby helped remind me that programming can be fun for its own sake. Not just because of the problems you’re solving or the product you’re creating, but just for the love of programming.

The experience of starting a new Ruby project feels just like booting up my Amstrad CPC and being able to joyfully write code that will just work.

I still learn new programming languages because, well, I love doing so. But I’m yet to find one that makes me want to write poetry in it in the way that Ruby does.

When I hear In Yer Face, I feel like I’m thirteen years old…

…and I’m painting Advanced HeroQuest miniatures⁶ in the attic at my dad’s house.

I’ve cobbled together a stereo system of my very own, mostly from other people’s castoffs, and set it up in “The Den”, our recently-converted attic⁷, and my friends and I would make and trade mixtapes with one another. One tape began with 808 State’s In Yer Face⁸, and it was often the tape that I would put on when I’d sit down to paint.

In a world before CD audio took off, “shuffle” wasn’t a thing, and we’d often listen to all of the tracks on a medium in sequence⁹.

That was doubly true for tapes, where rewinding and fast-forwarding took time and seeking for a particular track was challenging compared to e.g. vinyl. Any given song would loop around a lot if I couldn’t be bothered to change tapes, instead just flipping again and again¹⁰. But somehow it’s whenever I hear In Yer Face¹¹ that I’m transported right back to that time, in a reverie so corporeal that I can almost smell the paint thinner.

When I see a personal Web page, I (still) feel like I’m fifteen years old…

…and the Web is on the cusp of becoming the hot “killer application” for the Internet. I’ve been lucky enough to be “online” for a few years by now¹², and basic ISP-provided hosting would very soon be competing with cheap, free, and ad-supported services like Geocities to be “the place” to keep your homepage.

Since its early days, the Web has always been an expressive medium. Open a Web browser, and you’re seeing a blank canvas of potential. And with modern browser debug tools, you don’t even have to reach for your text editor to begin to create in that medium.

The limitations of that medium in the pre-CSS era were a cause for inspiration, not confinement: web pages of the mid-1990s would use all kinds of imaginative tricks to lay out and style their content!

Nowadays, even with a hugely-expanded toolbox, virtually every corporate homepage fundamentally looks the same:

Logo in the top left
Search and login in the top right, if applicable
A cookie/privacy notice covering everything until you work out the right incantation to make it go away without surrendering your firstborn child
A “hero banner“
Some “below the fold” content that most people skip over
A fat footer with several columns of links, to ensure that all the keywords are there so that people never have to see this page and the search engine will drop them off at relevant child page and not one of their competitors
Finally, a line of icons representing various centralised social networks: at least one is out-of-date, either because (a) it’s been renamed, (b) it’s changed its branding, or (c) nobody with any moral fortitude uses that network any more¹⁴

But before the corporate Web became the default, personal home pages brought a level of personality that for a while I worried was forever dead.

But… personal home pages didn’t die: everybody is free to write websites, so they’re still out there¹⁵, and they’re amazing. Look at this magic:

A handful of the personal home pages I visited while writing this article¹⁶. Don’t they just make you want to give the Web an enormous hug?

Last year, I wrote:

Writing HTML is punk rock. A “platform” is the tool of the establishment.

That still feels right to me. 🤘

So… it turns out that I get nostalgic about technology in the same way as I get nostalgic about music.

Footnotes

¹ My dad in particular considered arcade games financially wasteful when we, y’know, had a microcomputer at home that could load a text-based adventure from an audiotape and be ready to play in “only” about 3-5 minutes.

² Have you played Sonic Racing: CrossWorlds? The first time I played it I was overwhelmed by the speed and colours of the game: it’s such a high-octane visual feast. Well that’s what OutRun felt like to those of us who, in the 1980s, were used to much-simpler and slower arcade games.

³ Also, how cool is it that Metrik has a blog, in this day and age? Max props.

⁴ Did you hear, by the way, that there’s talk of a movie adaptation of OutRun, which could turn out to be the worst videogame-to-movie concept that I’ll ever definitely-watch.

⁵ In very-approximate order: C, Assembly, Pascal, HTML, Perl, Visual Basic (does that even count as a “grown-up” language?), Java, Delphi, JavaScript, PHP, SQL, ASP (classic, pre-.NET), CSS, Lisp, C#, Ruby, Python (though I didn’t get on with it so well), Go, Elixir… plus many others I’m sure!

⁶ Or possibly they were Warhammer Quest miniatures by this point; probably this memory spans one, and also the other, blended together.

⁷ Eventually my dad and I gave up on using the partially-boarded loft to intermittently build a model railway layout, mostly using second-hand/trade-in parts from “Trains & Transport”, which was exactly the nerdy kind of model shop you’re imagining right now: underlit and occupied by a parade of shuffling neckbeards, between whom young-me would squeeze to see if the mix-and-match bin had any good condition HO-gauge flexitrack. We converted the attic and it became “The Den”, a secondary space principally for my use. This was, in the most part, a concession for my vacating of a large bedroom and instead switching to the smallest-imaginable bedroom in the house (barely big enough to hold a single bed!), which in turn enabled my baby sister to have a bedroom of her own.

⁸ My copy of In Yer Face was possibly recorded from the radio by my friend ScGary, who always had a tape deck set up with his finger primed close to the record key when the singles chart came on.

⁹ I soon learned to recognise “my” copy of tracks by their particular cut-in and -out points, static and noise – some of which, amazingly, survived into the MP3 era – and of course the tracks that came before or after them, and there are still pieces of music where, when I hear them, I “expect” them to be followed by something that they used to some mixtape I listened to a lot 30+ years ago!

¹⁰ How amazing a user interface affordance was it that playing one side of an audio cassette was mechanically-equivalent to (slowly) rewinding the other side? Contrast other tape formats, like VHS, which were one-sided and so while rewinding there was literally nothing else your player could be doing. A “full” audio cassette was a marvellous thing, and I especially loved the serendipity where a recognisable “gap” on one side of the tape might approximately line-up with one on the other side, meaning that you could, say, flip the tape after the opening intro to one song and know that you’d be pretty-much at the start of a different one, on the other side. Does any other medium have anything quite analogous to that?

¹¹ Which is pretty rare, unless I choose to put it on… although I did overhear it “organically” last summer: it was coming out of a Bluetooth speaker in a narrowboat moored in the Oxford Canal near Cropredy, where I was using the towpath to return from a long walk to nearby Northamptonshire where I’d been searching for a geocache. This was a particularly surprising place to overhear such a song, given that many of the boats moored here probably belonged to attendees of Fairport’s Cropredy Convention, at which – being a folk music festival – one might not expect to see significant overlap of musical taste with “Madchester”-era acid house music!

¹² My first online experiences were on BBS systems, of which my very first was on a mid-80s PC1512 using a 2800-baud acoustic coupler! I got onto the Internet at a point in the early 90s at which the Web existed… but hadn’t yet demonstrated that it would eventually come to usurp the services that existed before it: so I got to use Usenet, Gopher, Telnet and IRC before I saw my first Web browser (it was Cello, but I switched to Netscape Navigator soon after it was released).

¹³ On the rare occasion I close my browser, these days, it re-opens with whatever hundred or so tabs I was last using right back where I left them. Gosh, I’m a slob for tabs.

¹⁴ Or, if it’s a Twitter icon: all three of these.

¹⁵ Of course, they’re harder to find. SEO-manipulating behemoths dominate the search results while social networks push their “apps” and walled gardens to try to keep us off the bigger, wider Web… and the more you cut both our of your online life, the calmer and happier you’ll be.

¹⁶ The sites featured in the video are: praze, elle’s homepage, sctech, Konfetti Explorations (Marisabel), Frills (check her character sheet “about” page!), mrkod, Raven Winters, Cobb, ajazz, Yusuf Ertan, Alvin Bryan, Armando Cordova, Ens/DepartedGlories, and Jamie Tanna.

Why I Am So Tired [Video]

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on YouTube (also as a “short”, for people who are too lazy to rotate their phone screen to horizontal and/or don’t have the attention span for more than three minutes of content)
on Facebook

Why I Am So Tired

Duration 3:18

Podcast Version

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This post is also available as a video. If you'd prefer to watch/listen to me talk about this topic, give it a look.

I am tired. For a couple of years I’ve been blaming it on iron-poor blood, lack of vitamins, diet, and a dozen other maladies. But now I’ve found out the real reason: I’m tired because I’m overworked.

The population of the UK is 69 million¹, of which the latest census has 37 million “of working age”².

According to the latest statistics, 4,215,913 are unemployed³, leaving 32,784,087 people to do all the work.

19.2 million are in full time education⁴, 856,211 in the armed forces⁵, and collectively central, regional, and local government employs 4.987 million⁶. This leaves just 12,727,876 to do all of the real work.

Long term disabilities affect 6.9 million⁷. 393,000 are on visas that prohibit them from working⁸, and 108,085⁹ are working their way through the asylum process.

Of the remaining 339,791 people, a hundred thousand are in prison¹⁰ and 239,789 are in hospital¹¹.

That leaves just two people to do all the work that keeps this country on its feet.

You and me.

And you’re sitting reading this.

This joke originally appeared aeons ago. I first saw it in a chain email in around 1996¹², when I adapted it from a US-centric version to a more British one and re-circulated it among some friends… taking the same kinds of liberties with the numbers that are required to make the gag work.

And now I’ve updated it with some updated population statistics¹³.

Footnotes

¹ Source: Provisional population estimate for the UK: mid-2025, Office for National Statistics.

² Source: Working age population, gov.uk.

³ Source: Unemployment, Office for National Statistics.

⁴ Source: Statistica for all the children, plus FE students from Education and training statistics for the UK, gov.uk, with some rounding.

⁵ Source: Hansard, here, plus other sources from the same time period.

⁶ Source: this informative article.

⁷ Source: UK disability statistics: Prevalence and life experiences, House of Commons Library.

⁸ Source: Reason for international migration, international students update: May 2025, Office for National Statistics.

⁹ Source: How many people claim asylum in the UK?, gov.uk.

¹⁰ Source: Prison population: weekly estate figures 2025, gov.uk.

¹¹ Source: Bed Availability and Occupancy, Hansard Library.

¹² In fact, I rediscovered it while looking through an old email backup from 1997, which inspired this blog post.

¹³ Using the same dodgy arithmetic, cherry-picking, double-counting, wild over-estimations, and hand-waving nonsense. Obviously this is a joke. Oh god, is somebody on the satire-blind Internet of 2026 going to assume any of these numbers are believable? (They’re not.) Or think I’m making some kind of political point? (I’m not.) What a minefield we live in, nowadays.

DOCTYPE

This weekend, I received my copy of DOCTYPE, and man: it feels like a step back to yesteryear to type in a computer program from a magazine: I can’t have done that in at least thirty years.

So yeah, DOCTYPE is a dead-tree (only) medium magazine containing the source code to 10 Web pages which, when typed-in to your computer, each provide you with some kind of fun and interactive plaything. Each of the programs is contributed by a different author, including several I follow and one or two whom I’m corresponded with at some point or another, and each brings their own personality and imagination to their contribution.

I opted to start with Stuart Langridge‘s The Nine Pyramids, a puzzle game about trying to connect all nodes in a 3×3 grid in a continuous line bridging adjacent (orthogonal or diagonal) nodes without visiting the same node twice nor moving in the same direction twice in a row (that last provision is described as “not visiting three in a straight line”, but I think my interpretation would have resulted in simpler code: I might demonstrate this, down the line!).

Open magazine showing program code in front of a screen showing a text editor and the running program. — The puzzle actually made me stop to think about it for a bit, which was unexpected and pleasing!

Per tradition with this kind of programming, I made a couple of typos, the worst of which was missing an entire parameter in a CSS conic-gradient() which resulted in the majority of the user interface being invisible: whoops! I found myself reminded of typing-in the code for Werewolves and Wanderer from The Amazing Amstrad Omnibus, whose data section – the part most-liable to be affected by a typographic bug without introducing a syntax error – had a helpful “checksum” to identify if a problem had occurred, and wishing that such a thing had been possible here!

But thankfully a tiny bit of poking in my browser’s inspector revealed the troublesome CSS and I was able to complete the code, and then the puzzle.

I’ve really been enjoying DOCTYPE, and you can still buy a copy if you’d like one of your own. It manages to simultaneously feel both fresh and nostalgic, and that’s really cool.

Beige Buttons

Back before PCs were black, they were beige. And even further back, they’d have not only “Reset” and “Power” buttons, but also a “Turbo” button.

I’m not here to tell you what it did¹. No, I’m here to show you how to re-live those glory days with a Turbo button of your very own, implemented as a reusable Web Component that you can install on your very own website:

If you’d like some beige buttons of your own, you can get them at Beige-Buttons.DanQ.dev. Two lines of code and you can pop them on any website you like. Also, it’s open-source under the Unlicense so you can take it, break it, or do what you like with it.

I’ve been slumming it in some Web Revivalist circles lately, and it might show. Best Resolution (with all its 88×31s²), which I launched last month, for example.

You might anticipate seeing more retro fun-and-weird going on here. You might be right.

Close-up photo of a computer with reset and turbo buttons in the style mirrored by my component. — This photo was my primary inspiration for the design of these buttons. I’m pretty sure I had a case of this design once! This photo courtesy Rainer Knäpper, used under the Free Art License.

Now… be honest – how many of you pressed the “reset” button even though you were told not to?

Footnotes

¹ If you know, you know. And if you don’t, then take a look at the website for my new web component, which has an “about” section.

² I guess that’s another “if you know, you know”, but at least you’ll get fewer conflicting answers if you search for an explanation than you will if you try to understand the turbo button.

A chat with 19-year-old me

This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.

I bumped into my 19-year-old self the other day. It was horrifying, in the same way that looking in the mirror every morning is horrifying, but with added horror on top.

I stopped him mid-stride, he wasn’t even looking at me. His attention was elsewhere. Daydreaming. I remember, I used to do a lot of that. I tapped his shoulder.

“Hey. Hi. Hello. It’s me! I mean: you.”

…

Giles Turnbull, in A chat with 19-year-old me

I wanted to pick two parts of this piece to quote, but I couldn’t. The whole thing is great. And it’s concise – only about 1,700 words – so you should just go read it.

I wonder what conversations I’d have with my 19-year-old self. Certainly technology would come up, as it was already a huge part of my life (and, indeed, I was already publishing on the Web and even blogging), but younger-me would still certainly have been surprised by and interested in some of the changes that have happened since. High-speed, always-on cellular Internet access… cheap capacitive touchscreens… universal media streaming… the complete disappearance of CRT screens… high-speed wireless networking…

Giles tells his younger self to hold onto his vinyl collection: to retain a collection of physical media for when times get strange and ephemeral, like now. What would I say to 19-year-old me? It’s easy to fantasise about the advice you’d give your younger self, but would I even listen to myself? Possibly not! I was a stubborn young know-it-all!

Anyway, go read Giles’ post because it’s excellent.

Internet Services^H Provider

Do you remember when your domestic ISP – Internet Service Provider – used to be an Internet Services Provider? They were only sometimes actually called that, but what I mean is: when ISPs provided more than one Internet service? Not just connectivity, but… more.

ISPs twenty years ago

It used to just be expected that your ISP would provide you with not only an Internet connection, but also some or all of:

A handful of email inboxes, plus SMTP relaying
Shared or private FTP storage¹
Hosting for small Websites/homepages
Usenet access
Email-to-fax and/or fax-to-email services
Caching forward proxies (this was so-commonplace that it isn’t even listed in the “standard services” screenshot above)
One or more local nodes to IRC networks
Sometimes, licenses for useful Internet software
For leased-line (technically “broadband”, by the original definition) connections: a static IP address or IP pool

ISPs today

The ISP I hinted at above doesn’t exist any more, after being bought out and bought out and bought out by a series of owners. But I checked the Website of the current owner to see what their “standard services” are, and discovered that they are:

A pretty-shit router²
Optional 4G backup connectivity (for an extra fee)
A voucher for 3 months access to a streaming service³

The connection is faster, which is something, but we’re still talking about the “baseline” for home Internet access then-versus-now. Which feels a bit galling, considering that (a) you’re clearly, objectively, getting fewer services, and (b) you’re paying more for them – a cheap basic home Internet subscription today, after accounting for inflation, seems to cost about 25% more than it did in 2000.⁴

Are we getting a bum deal?

An xternal 33.6kbps serial port dial-up modem. — Not every BBS nor ISP would ever come to support the blazing speeds of a 33.6kbps modem… but when you heard the distinctive scream of its negotiation at close to the Shannon Limit of the piece of copper dangling outside your house… it felt like you were living in the future.

Would you even want those services?

Some of them were great conveniences at the time, but perhaps not-so-much now: a caching server, FTP site, or IRC node in the building right at the end of my dial-up connection? That’s a speed boost that was welcome over a slow connection to an unencrypted service, but is redundant and ineffectual today. And if you’re still using a fax-to-email service for any purpose, then I think you have bigger problems than your ISP’s feature list!

Some of them were things I wouldn’t have recommend that you depend on, even then: tying your email and Web hosting to your connectivity provider traded one set of problems for another. A particular joy of an email address, as opposed to a postal address (or, back in the day, a phone number), is that it isn’t tied to where you live. You can move to a different town or even to a different country and still have the same email address, and that’s a great thing! But it’s not something you can guarantee if your email address is tied to the company you dial-up to from the family computer at home. A similar issue applies to Web hosting, although for a true traditional “personal home page”: a little information about yourself, and your bookmarks, it would be fine.

But some of them were things that were actually useful and I miss: honestly, it’s a pain to have to use a third-party service for newsgroup access, which used to be so-commonplace that you’d turn your nose up at an ISP that didn’t offer it as standard. A static IP being non-standard on fixed connections is a sad reminder that the ‘net continues to become less-participatory, more-centralised, and just generally more watered-down and shit: instead of your connection making you “part of” the Internet, nowadays it lets you “connect to” the Internet, which is a very different experience.⁵

But the Web hosting, for example, wasn’t useless. In fact, it served an important purpose in lowering the barrier to entry for people to publish their first homepage! The magical experience of being able to just FTP some files into a directory and have them be on the Web, as just a standard part of the “package” you bought-into, was a gateway to a participatory Web that’s nowadays sadly lacking.

Yeah, sure, you can set up a static site (unencumbered by any opinionated stack) for free on Github Pages, Neocities, or wherever, but the barrier to entry has been raised by just enough that, doubtless, there are literally millions of people who would have taken that first step… but didn’t.

And that makes me sad.

Footnotes

¹ ISP-provided shared FTP servers would also frequently provide locally-available copies of Internet software essentials for a variety of platforms. This wasn’t just a time-saver – downloading Netscape Navigator from your ISP rather than from half-way across the world was much faster! – it was also a way to discover new software, curated by people like you: a smidgen of the feel of a well-managed BBS, from the comfort of your local ISP!

² ISP-provided routers are, in my experience, pretty crap 50% of the time… although they’ve been improving over the last decade as consumers have started demanding that their WiFi works well, rather than just works.

³ These streaming services vouchers are probably just a loss-leader for the streaming service, who know that you’ll likely renew at full price afterwards.

⁴ Okay, in 2000 you’d have also have had to pay per-minute for the price of the dial-up call… but that money went to BT (or perhaps Mercury or KCOM), not to your ISP. But my point still stands: in a world where technology has in general gotten cheaper and backhaul capacity has become underutilised, why has the basic domestic Internet connection gotten less feature-rich and more-expensive? And often with worse customer service, to boot.

⁵ The problem of your connection not making you “part of” the Internet is multiplied if you suffer behind carrier-grade NAT, of course. But it feels like if we actually cared enough to commit to rolling out IPv6 everywhere we could obviate the need for that particular turd entirely. And yet… I’ll bet that the ISPs who currently use it will continue to do so, even as the offer IPv6 addresses as-standard, because they buy into their own idea that it’s what their customers want.

⁶ I think we can all be glad that we no longer write “Web Site” as two separate words, but you’ll note that I still usually correctly capitalise Web (it’s a proper noun: it’s the Web, innit!).

Part of the Internet, or connecting to the Internet?

Some time in the last 25 years, ISPs stopped saying they made you “part of” the Internet, just that they’d help you “connect to” the Internet.

Most people don’t need a static IP, sure. But when ISPs stopped offering FTP and WWW hosting as a standard feature (shit though it often was), they became part of the tragic process by which the Internet became centralised, and commoditised, and corporate, and just generally watered-down.

The amount of effort to “put something online” didn’t increase by a lot, but it increased by enough that millions probably missed-out on the opportunity to create their first homepage.

The Last Post for the Nightline Association. How does that make you feel?

This is a repost promoting content originally published elsewhere. See more things Dan's reposted.

Fellow geek, Nightline veteran, and general volunteering hero James Buller wrote a wonderful retrospective on his experience with Surrey Nightline, National Nightline, and the Nightline Association over most of the last three decades:

…

In 1997 I left a note in the Surrey Nightline pigeon-hole to volunteer and eventually become the Coordinator

In 1998 I emailed the leaders of National Nightline with a plea for support.

In 2000 I launched the first National Nightline website and email list

In 2003 I added the bulletin board online forum

In 2006 I led governance reform and the registration project that led to the Nightline Association charity

In 2007 I set up Google Apps for the recently established nightline.ac.uk domain

In 2008 We sent news via an email broadcast system for the first time

In 2025 All the user accounts and the charity were shut down.

So here’s my last post on volunteering with the confidential mental health helplines run ‘by students for students’ at universities, then the overarching association body.

…

James Buller

I began volunteering with Aberystwyth Nightline in 1999, and I remember the 2000 launch of the National Nightline mailing list and website. It felt like a moment of coalescence and unity. We Nightline volunteers at the turn of the millennium were young, and tech-savvy, and in that window between the gradual decline of Usenet and the 2004-onwards explosion in centralised social networking, mailing lists and forums were The Hotness.

Nightlines (and Nightliners) disagreed with one another on almost everything, but the Internet-based connectivity that James put into place for National Nightline was enormously impactful. It made Nightline feel bigger than it had been before: it was an accessible and persistent reminder that you were part of a wider movement. It facilitated year-round discussions that might previously have been seen only at annual conferences. It brought communities together.

(Individuals too: when my friends Kit and Fiona met and got together back in 2003 (and, later, married), it probably wouldn’t have happened without the National Nightline forum.)

Screenshot of website 'NNL Bulletin Board', powered by PHPbb, featuring a variety of Nightline-related topics including Three Rings and a mention that registered user 'AvaPoet' (an alias of Dan Q's at the time) has posted today, along with 'Fiona M' and 'Kit' (mentioned elsewhere in this article). — Gosh, I spent an inordinate amount of time on this site, back in the day.

But while I praise James’ work in community-building and technology provision, his experience with Nightlines doesn’t stop there: he was an important force in the establishment of the Nightline Association, the registered charity that took over National Nightline’s work and promised to advance it even further with moves towards accreditation and representation.

As his story continues, James talks about one of his final roles for the Association: spreading the word about the party to “see it off”. Sadly, the Nightline Association folded last month, leaving a gap that today’s Nightlines, I fear, will struggle to fill, but this was at least the excuse for one last get-together (actually, three, but owing to schedule conflicts I was only able to travel up to the one in Manchester):

…

I had done a lot of the leg work to track down and invite former volunteers to the farewell celebrations. I’d gotten a real buzz from it, which despite a lot of other volunteering I’ve not felt since I was immersed in the Nightline world in the 2000’s. I felt all warm and fuzzy with nostalgia for the culture, comradeship and perhaps dolefully sense of youth too!

I was delighted that so many people answered the call (should have expected nothing less of great Nightliners!). Their reminiscing felt like a wave of love for the movement we’d all been a part of and had consumed such a huge part of our lives for so long. It clearly left an indelible mark on us all and has positively affected so many others through us.

…

Many people played their part in the story of the Nightline Association.

My part in the story has mostly involved Three Rings (which this year adopted some of the Association’s tech infrastructure to ensure that it survives the charity’s unfortunate demise). But James, I’ve long felt, undermines his own staggering impact.

Volunteering in charity technical work is a force multiplier: instead of working on the front lines, you get to facilitate many times your individual impact for the people who do! Volunteering with Three Rings for the last 23 years has helped me experience that, and James’ experience of this kind of volunteering goes even further than mine. And yet he feels his impact most-strongly in a close and interpersonal story that’s humbling and beautiful:

…

I was recently asked by a researcher, ‘What is the best thing you have done as a volunteer in terms of impact?’. I was proud to reply that I’d been told someone had not killed themselves because of a call with me at Surrey Nightline.
…

I’d recommend going and reading the full post by James, right up to the final inspiring words.

(Incidentally: if you’re looking for a volunteering opportunity that continues to help Nightlines, in the absence of the Nightline Association, Three Rings can make use of you…)

👋 Farewell, NLA

Highlights of yesterday’s Goodbye Nightline Association party in Manchester:

👨‍💻 Responded to Three Rings user query in real time by implementing new Directory property while at the event (pictured)
🤝 Met a handful of Nightliners past and present; swapped war stories of fights with students unions, battles for funding, etc. (also got some insights into how they’re using various tech tools!)
✍️ Did hilariously awful job of drawing ‘Condom Man’, Aberystwyth Nightline’s mascot circa 2000
🤞 Possibly recruited a couple of new Three Rings volunteers

Low points:

😢 It’s a shame NLA’s dying, but I’m optimistic that Nightlines will survive

Geocities Live

I used Geocities.live to transform the DanQ.me homepage into “Geocities style” and I’ve got to say… I don’t hate what it came up with

Let’s put aside for the moment that you can already send my website back into “90s mode” and dive into this take on how I could present myself in a particularly old-school way. There’s a few things I particularly love:

It’s actually quite lightweight: ignore all the animated GIFs (which are small anyway) and you’ll see that, compared to my current homepage, there are very few images. I’ve been thinking about going in a direction of less images on the homepage anyway, so it’s interesting to see how it comes together in this unusual context.
The page sections are solidly distinct: they’re a mishmash of different widths, some of which exhibit a horrendous lack of responsivity, but it’s pretty clear where the “recent articles” ends and the “other recent stuff” begins.
The post kinds are very visible: putting the “kind” of a post in its own column makes it really clear whether you’re looking at an article, note, checkin, etc., much more-so than my current blocks do.

90s web design was very-much characterised by:

performance – nobody’s going to wait for your digital photos to download on narrowband connections, so you hide them behind descriptive links or tiny thumbnails, and
pushing the boundaries – the pre-CSS era of the Web had limited tools, but creators worked hard to experiment with the creativity that was possible within those limits.

Those actually… aren’t bad values to have today. Sure, we’ve probably learned that animated backgrounds, tables for layout, and mystery meat navigation were horrible for usability and accessibility, but that doesn’t mean that there isn’t still innovation to be done. What comes next for the usable Web, I wonder?

The only thing I can fault it on is that it assumes that I’d favour Netscape Navigator: in fact, I was a die-hard Opera-head for most of the nineties and much of the early naughties, finally switching my daily driver to Firefox in 2005.

I certainly used plenty of Netscape and IE at various points, though, but I wasn’t a fan of the divisions resulting from the browser wars. Back in the day, I always backed the ideals of the “Viewable With Any Browser” movement.

I guess I still do.

Rewilding Slay

I’ve been playing Sean O’Connor’s Slay for around 30 years (!), but somehow it took until today, on the Android version, before I tried my hand at “rewilding” the game world.

The rules of the game make trees… a bad thing: you earn no income from hexes with them. But by the time I was winning this map anyway, I figured that encouraging growback would be a pleasant way to finish the round.

Play your videogames any damn way you want. Don’t let anybody tell you there’s a right or wrong way to enjoy a single-player game. Today I took a strategy wargame and grew a forest. How will you play?

Tag: nostalgia

How an RM Nimbus Taught Me a Hacker Mentality

What can I make it do?

Program Manager

Microsoft Word

File Manager

Are you sure you want to quit?

Aftermath

Footnotes

The internet’s hidden creative renaissance (and how to find it)

Blogroll 88x31s

Nostalgia, Music, and Computers

Podcast Version

When I hear Dawnbreaker, I feel like I’m nine years old…

When I start a new Ruby project, I feel like I’m eleven years old…

When I hear In Yer Face, I feel like I’m thirteen years old…

When I see a personal Web page, I (still) feel like I’m fifteen years old…

Footnotes

Why I Am So Tired [Video]

Why I Am So Tired

Podcast Version

Footnotes

DOCTYPE

Beige Buttons

Footnotes

A chat with 19-year-old me

Internet Services^H Provider

ISPs twenty years ago

ISPs today

Would you even want those services?

Footnotes

Part of the Internet, or connecting to the Internet?

The Last Post for the Nightline Association. How does that make you feel?

👋 Farewell, NLA

Geocities Live

Rewilding Slay