Life without J

Life without with J is not, as you might assume from earlier posts, about getting dumped by someone called J - or even losing a few friends whose names start with J - although it may come to that.

No, Life without J is life without the letter J - 10th in the alphabet, 8 points in Scrabble, a commanding, centre-court position on your average QUERTY keyboard.

Except, after some six months of last gasps and other signs of torture, my letter J has finally died. It is no longer reponds to either gentle touch, aggressive tapping or any of the encouraging techniques I've developed to encourage its presence on the page.

I have looked at my J in the raw. I have cleaned it. I have begged it. But no dice. Or no 'oy' as my keyboard now puts it.

Initially I thought this would be disastrous. Life without J. I simply couldn't imagine it. I rang up Sony - yes, as I thought - it will take over a year and some 3000 euros to get it fixed.

Their answer was: Live with it; live without J.

And in fact it's surprisingly easy. My newly-patented keyboard shortcut (Ctrl + K) takes care of Word and website software. Cutting and pasting (from the new, handy "J" text file I've created) takes care of most other J needs.

But friends called J are going out the window. Too much bother. And a disproportionately large number of PokerStars colleagues who also seem to start their names with J (eg: 'ohan, 'ohn, 'emma, 'o, 'an, 'ens, 'ules etc) are going to have to go too. Or they're going to have to write first and I'll 'ust hit reply and forget to say hi.

In fact, my J has been on the point of death so long, it's not even that hard a transition. A recalcitrant, petulant J is actually worse than no J. My dying J was like a crap boyfriend - promising to turn up, even looking like they might turn up - and then 'ust not.

So J - you unnecessary, useless letter of the alphabet. I will survive without you. You're history. It's over. I ust don't need you anymore.