Nae lang...

... afore we're back in Craiglang.

Tonight on BBC2 Scotland, 22.00hrs.

Mrkgnao!

Well, Jimmy's back from his alien abduction none the worse as far as I can see. He appears to be a bit more outgoing, and he's certainly significantly neater.

Having survived that traumatic experience, I decided he needed a bit of a quick fix in the fun department, and instead of cultivating a stray, he should just go ahead and buy a cat. Off he went, and 399 Simoleans later, has a wee black lass called Severina - a quiet wee soul who adores him. Jimmy's social levels have never dipped since she came to stay, and he spends a lot of his day (in between reading, playing chess and practising piano) talking to and petting the cat. She's learnt some useful things as well: she has a skill point for hunting (she managed to catch a mouse on the second storey); he's been training her to dance, which she seems to enjoy; and he bought her a toy, which she placed (strangely, I thought) in the bathroom. Periodically she goes and worries at it, which boosts her fun no end, and then she chases her tail for a while. She's only peed on the floor once, but he didn't scold her, he simply cleaned it up and gave her a cuddle. Their relationship score is 100%. This saves Jimmy having to interact with the extremely dull neighbours. They come and ring his doorbell, but he can't be arsed to answer. They usually come at inopportune times, so he's perfectly within his rights. Anyway, if he does let them in, they only help themselves to espresso and then go and use his lavvie without asking permission. I ask you! Who in their right mind would put up with that crap?

Aye, a cat is definitely the best option for an single gentleman who enjoys the finer, more cultured things in life. OK, so he's maybe a bit antisocial when it comes to human Sims, and just a tad elitist in his leisure pursuits, but what the hell's wrong with that? The proof is in his fun levels after all. (Incidentally, I reneged on my principles and hired both a maid and a gardener. Cheap at half the price.).

This has taught me nothing new, to be honest. I've known since childhood that cats are better than most people; and I've always suspected that in order to live a contented life and fully enjoy a cultured and intellectual lifestyle, one needs an independent source of income, thus enabling one to avoid the daily drudgery of work. If anyone knows of a 'cheat' I can use in the real world to get the sterling equivalent of 1000 Simoleans a day, please give me a shout. I quite fancy a grand piano and a self-flushing lavatory.

The cold of interstellar space

All the bigger houses in Sam's neighbourhood had significant drawbacks, so I had a wee browse on Neighbourhood 2 to find him his ideal home. Aha! - a lovely gothic montrosity, complete with tapestries, rich rugs, a four poster bed, and vast amounts of space. But Sam couldn't move between neighbourhoods, so it was time for Sim No. 4.

I planned carefully for the birth of Sim the Fourth, Jimmy Joyce. Built up his bank account to over 250,000 Simoleans before purchasing the 'castle', having added an outdoor area at the second storey level so he could get a telescope. (Fun and skill booster, you see). Got him a dishwasher, pool table, trash compactor, piano, an array of comfy seats, a great big plasma TV and a top of the range stereo. Splendid. He had more money than he could possibly know what to do with, and all the time in the world to have fun and socialize. Sorted, at last.

All remained grand, and Jimmy was having a whale of a time. He'd chatted to a few neighbours, but preferred to keep his social levels healthy by buttering up a stray cat called Aristotle. Cats are better than people, you see. He was coping with the cooking, eating, bladder emptying, washing and kipping routine, and had oodles of spare time for studying and playing with such wonderful items as the computer and the chess set, allowing skill and fun scores to rise simultaneously.

And then, would you Adam and Eve it, there he was, out on his second storey platform, gazing at the starry sky through his telescope, learning logic and being jolly, when all of a sudden he was feckin well abducted by aliens.

If at first you don't succeed...errrm,... CHEAT

I decided that my next Sim would have to be a young man, as in real life I find males generally much more interesting, reasonable and entertaining than wimmin. Daniela and Kate had quickly proved themselves to be as vacuous and carping in personality as I've grown to expect from young women in the non-Sim world. Maybe a gentleman wouldn't tire so easily, and would spend less time on the lavvie, hence squeezing more time to study or have this elusive 'Fun'.

However, before creating another Sim, I decided to see if there were hints abroad which could help improve my shoddy performance. I had questions, you see: should you make your Sim work straightaway?... are some career paths better than others?... are some zodiac signs less demanding? So off I went and Googled. And my search bore fruit.... albeit fruit of the forbidden variety.

The first site that popped up helpfully offered me a 'cheat' which would allow me to grab an extra thousand simoleans any time I wanted. Nice one. That'd solve the work problem. Who needs to work when they have a private income?! That'll give my new Sim time to study and learn enough skills not to burn his house down, have the resources of time and cash to do enjoyable things, and still be in a good mood for interacting with his neighbours.

So, Sim the Third, Sam Weasel, was born. I quickly realised that the wee house I've chosen for Sam is a bit too small for someone with an unlimited supply of Simoleans at his fingertips, so I've toyed with moving him into a bigger place. No, no, don't be greedy, said that auld Calvinist voice within, and therefore Sam remains presently in Blackpoint Cottage, happily learning skills, eating well, never having to flush the lavvie (I bought him the automatic one), and generally living high on the hog.

But the crunch has come. There is no room to install a pool table.

Sim the Second: Kate

Did as before with the house and furniture, except I made Kate be a bit more frugal than the first bint. You see, this time, I followed me-laddo's advice, and sat her down for a couple of days to learn some skills before forcing her out into the world of work. No money coming into the household can be risky for a spendthrift Sim. So, although she quickly became skilled enough to avoid causing a major kitchen incident, it wasn't long before she started to greet as well.
I'd sent her for some 'fun' by free shuttle to the Old Town, to have a browse at the shops (but being unemployed, she didn't get to spend anything) and to have a chat to any other Sims who she happened to bump into. Apparently this was supposed to keep her 'Social' level up. She was barely out of the house when she started to get tired, and the irritable bitch kept yelling at me incomprehensibly about her 'needs' in Sim-speak. She also succeeded in pissing off everyone she interacted with, including a passing dog, so her social level started to plummet too. I sent her home, where she refused to look for a job and would basically do sod all except eat, pee and sleep. Another one who wanted this ridiculous concept of 'Fun'. Aaarrrgh!
I've cancelled her too.

Sim the First: Daniela

Started off in a nice wee house and got it furnished tastefully, if sparsely. Took a job immediately as a dog-walker and was promoted after 24 hours to a dog-groomer. So far so good.
After a few Sim-days, a message balloon popped up informing me that Daniela was sick of always eating salad, because she had nowhere to cook hot food. (WTF happened to healthy eating, the greedy swine!)
OK though, we've made a bit of money through the job now, so I bought her a cooker. Well, bugger me, did the silly tart not immediately go and set the thing on fire?! Honestly!! She didn't have enough cooking skill points, I'm told. Dear god. How she's supposed to find the time to learn to cook as well as groom dogs, spend inordinately long periods of time peeing, and sleep, I'm buggered if I know.
O well, I thought, I'll sit her down for an hour or two at the bookcase and boost her skill levels. No, no, no. Daniela starts weeping and wailing and generally throwing a hissy fit because she's "too depressed to study". My other half pointed out that I need to maintain her 'Fun' level if I'm going to get her to do anything. Well! Fun?! Fuuuunnnnn????!!!! Who the hell does Daniela think she is to demand Fun? Huh! Who has bloody Fun in this life?!
Christ al-bloody-mighty! I've cancelled the moany-faced cow.

Nae patience!

My mother was right: I have nae patience.

The Sims isn't working out for me. They're bloody irritating, demanding little bastards, and it's awfully stressful. It's done nothing for my self-esteem. I believe I may be losing credibility with the better half because of my inability to keep my Sims even vaguely content.

Who needs this crap? Isn't it enough to have to drag yourself out of bed for work, do the cooking and cleaning, and worry about the bills in the real world, without having the same dreary routine in a bloody game as well?!

The Idle Hands of the Addictive Personality

There are probably a limited number of times a person can play Yahtzee without getting utterly tired of it. Fortunately this hasn't happened to me quite yet. A few years ago, my Yahtzee playing started as a thing we did of an evening while stoned . Then it became a compulsive solitaire game for me, while sitting in my flat wondering whether a certain Oaf would turn up, and what the consequences of arrival/non-arrival might be. There's something very comforting about rolling the dice... it keeps your hands occupied, and cuts down on your potential for chain-smoking, while still creating a calming effect. I suppose it's a bit like worry beads. And indeed, my Yahtzeeing has always been at its most excessive during periods of above-average anxiety.

But manual Yahtzee has its drawbacks. It's noisy for a start, with five dice clattering about; it's a right pain in the arse when one of them bounces too far and rolls under the coffee table; and if you play it as much as I do, you end up going through rainforests of paper for your scorecards. So, as you can imagine, I was mightily chuffed when I found a free downloadable PC version. It runs silently, you can't lose the dice, and no paper gets harmed in the course of one's playing. Grand. But... (there's always a but!)... I play too much. I'm completely addicted. I can't browse the net without interrupting myself for a quick game. I'm not even really enjoying it much now, but I just can't help myself. Until I reach that elusive seventh Yahtzee and my high score beats the other half's, I cannot rest. (This is the danger of competitive sports, she snorts derisively).

A cure is definitely required, so....... I've bought The Sims. [Ehhh, what!!! Cue an entire blog readership shaking their heads in despair]. There'll be tears before bedtime, I know.