HAMBLETON? WE HAVE A PROBLEM..

You're sat at home, minding your own business typing away on your blog when bish-bash-bosh... a virus announces itself on your laptop. For anyone that's ever had one it makes your hair stand on end, you start hyperventilating and your palms sweat. It's the pits. Screens disappear, sirens go off and warning messages alert you to impending disaster. The warning screens during last night's nightmare just didn't look right. There were threats of Trojans and Worms invading my hard drive and taking details of my credit card and banking details, followed by being presented with a payment screen to complete credit card details for an instant download of a software program which would instantly zap the virus. Mmmm.. .something didn't quite ring true. So who do you call? Not Ghostbusters, but Super Dave - my trusty mate who having his own computer company, knows a thing or two about all things IT.

This is why Dave has now been elevated to Super Dave status... I make a frantic call to Dave and it's 11.30pm. Rather than ignore my call and pretend he's off having a life like most normal people would do, he takes the call with good grace and humour at my panic and calmly offers to help there and then. So, I strap my laptop into the carseat and put the seatbelt round it and set off in my pyjamas, over the River Wyre into the dark side (Hambleton) which at midnight is like a scene from Sleepy Hollow. I get out of my car clutching my laptop and with a rape alrm clenched between my teeth, and he's there at the back door in his Bill Gates PJ's, smoking jacket and cravat. The ivory cigarette holder completes the look. The kettle goes on, and while I'm quaffing coffee whilst thinking to myself 'how the bloody hell did I manage to drive in my slippers?', Dave explains that the 'virus' is in fact a scam to cheat people into giving their card details in exchange for a 'fix' that never comes. The virus however, sits on your hard drive and resides in memory and will be constantly causing damage without ever going away.

Dave prescribed an overnight fix and scan for the laptop, 2 paracetemol and some relaxation tapes for me. I drive home to dolphin mating noise on my CD player and try to ignore a headless horseman riding through the mist of Shard Bridge and get home and to bed around 1am.

Tonight, I've collected my laptop which has been cleaned virus-free and has new virus software and spyware loaded. I'm so chuffed there's no lasting damage (other than cancelling my bank cards so will have no access to money until the replacements arrive) that I promised Dave I would write nice things about him. We've come a long way since the days of us being next door neighbours and sitting for hours in his garden in the summer drinking beer and swopping filthy jokes. On evil days I would lean over the fence and flick mayonnaise at his boxer shorts on his washing line and blame the seagulls. Sorry Dave, it was me.

I owe you a big lunch as a way of thanks. Just don't ask for the Hellmans...