According to an article published in the LA Times on March 4, 2014, a survey conducted by found that 1 in 10 of the Americans they polled thought HTML – the language used in the creation of websites – was some sort of sexually transmitted disease.

Now, where the study was concerned with determining the extent to which the populace understands tech-related terms, I can’t help thinking that what we have here is a golden opportunity to play around with some terminology and come up with a bit of IT-related tech dirty talk – a megabit of tech dirty talk, if you like (you know, the kind that’d make Family Guy’s Quagmire go gigabitty-gigabitty… see, you can already tell that is going to be great).

So, here goes… and from this point on, imagine some film noir-style narration, preferably Humphrey Bogart as Sam Spade in The Maltese Falcon


The minute that crazy batch job walked into my office I had her flagged as the kind of woman who enjoyed a hot male. I was standing by the Windows, pouring myself a glass of bourbon, while she eyed me up and down. ‘So Detective,’ she said, ‘is that a hard drive in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?’

‘That depends on your bandwidth,’ I said, offering her a cigarette. She took one and put it between her lips. And damn if they weren’t the finest pair of lips I’d ever seen, real classy dribbleware. ‘What’s your problem?’ I asked. ‘Why are you here?’

‘You’re the detective,’ she said, perching her curly bracket on the end of my desk. ‘You work it out.’ She was a character okay.

‘I only solve mysteries outside my office,’ I said. I moved in closer, got a whiff of her scent. ‘I like the way you XML,’ I told her.

‘Thanks. I’m Karel.’ She offered me her hand. I gently pushed it aside.

‘Nice to meet you, Karel. Now whaddya want?’

‘I’ll be blunt, Mr. Spade. I need a front end man in my backend and I heard you were the best.’

So that was it, another one of those glitches looking to get her kludge debugged. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t against getting down to BASICS, but there was something about Karel I couldn’t put my finger on, something that just didn’t double-click, some undefined variable. ‘You wanna go straight to analog?’ I asked, suspicious. ‘No digital play first?’

‘Look Spade, I’m a gal who knows what she wants. I need a man who knows how to function, someone who can RAM it to me, without some random seed making its way into my loophole.’

‘I get it,’ I said, ‘you want some fun without activating your integrated development environment, huh?’

‘That’s right, Spade. Are you man enough for it? Are you a somebody or are you a nobody? A 1 or a 0?’

‘Would it make a difference?’

‘I suppose not, not in the end. I can do both.’

Binary-sexual, huh?’

‘I find it best to keep all my options open. So, what do you say Spade? You want to dig in?’


I had to admit it, I liked her confidence. Assertive women have always flicked my on switch. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘But I got my conditions.’

‘Name them.’

‘Okay, once I’ve pulled out of your crapplet, I get to dynamic dump my django all over that language processor of yours.’

‘I can handle that,’ she said smoothly. ‘Anything else?’

‘Yeah, just the one thing,’ I said. ‘If you give me some kind of virus, I’ll kick you in the sandbox, got it?


‘Good. So, how do you like it?’


‘You sound like my kind of girl. Oh and once we’re done, you’re outta here. There’s gonna be no cuddling or making Google eyes at each other.’

‘What, I can’t even stay for a coffee afterwards?’

‘You can have one now, before we start.’

‘Do you have java?’ she said, as she slipped out of her dress and stood there in nothing but a tiny black substring.

‘No,’ I said, releasing my python with a solid thunk.

Lights out, cue raunchy sax solo…

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