nerd of 1 herd

The end of a weekend draws near. It's now the bit where I should be at slumber, topping up my charge in readiness for a full-on assault on Monday morning.
It's not the case. I'm sat here typing this, whatever this is. At present I'm also rather delightfully coughing my innards up with a repetition Newton's baby basket would be proud of. I shan't be long for this game, not this evening/morning, but I felt it foolish to waste an opportunity to reveal something fine from the interweb.
This evening I felt a substantial 'nerd-on' welling up in my personal trouser patch. A scratch I simply had to itch, the other round way. I needed to go and look up some classic telly sounds effects to stick on my mobile to make me appear colourful and interesting; perhaps a little zany and most certainly as wacky as possible, at work, in my local government worker standard issue low expectation brown cords, no hoper edition s-belt, non-ironed (but not by design) yellowing grimy-collared shirt and moth-eaten nylon stripy v-neck.
I'd been thinking lately that yeah the lighting's bad in the office, the air's bad in the office, overall the mood is way beyond Par...close to St Austell - so what I should get is a snazzy ring-tone for my phone. That'd inject a little un-beigeness. That, I'm sure, would place a sparkle on the suede of a Swede's semi-brogue.
Anyway, far too absorbed by the Matrix effect of my 'groovy sound effects for my mobile' quest to remember that actually my preferred v-neck is woolen not nylon, I don't wear stripes and that I don't own an s-belt, my shirts are clean and my cords are plush, my shoes are made from Italian leather and my specs are by Gucci. Blindly I Percy Veared until I stumbled across a link which proudly pointed the way to 'The Hunters Lair' - thankfully without misplaced apostrophe.
Here I knew found the Golden Fleece, J-man's grail, the last proud but wrinkled Rizla in the box because here and only here was the forum for people who dress up, rather seriously, as Predator.
Flicking through a series of posts looking for a sound effect of the beast itself 'clicking' as it does so convincingly in the movie, I realised I'd found a bedroom of nerds (that’s the recognized collective noun, I promise) more focused and pedantic than ever before. More insistent than the Nokia natives, more argumentative than the Nikon numpties and far more curious than the Crackberry blands - they whinged and moaned, bitched and bullied throughout their entire forum. These people, not that I think it's at all bizarre, or juvenile, for grown folk to meet up now and again all dressed as Predator, complete with sound effects, engineered weaponry and no doubt fully intergalactic underpants, these people are the sole reason I stopped. I caught sight of myself, for a split second, as one of them. Movie inspired phone sounds??? Seriously? Nope. No sir. Not me. No way. Not yet, anyway.
After that single point in time everything changed. I returned to the sofa (I’d completely fallen off it and was sprawled on the floor, dribbling and calling for a referendum), shook myself firmly by the face and cursed my imagination, the interweb and the time all at once. Now it seems my good friend the weekend has gone. “...she says the jungle…it just came alive and took him.”