1. How it all started...
Lets say, just hypothetically of course, there's this bloke (we'll call him Tony, just picking a name out of the blue). Tony has a job and this job involves using computers. Computers are a massive source of storage and like our brains they have a conscious part and an unconscious part, the conscious part being of course the stuff you all know about and use everyday and the unconscious part being the meticulous record of every little thing you've ever done on the bloody machine since you first squinted into its poxy screen, hidden somewhere on some curious encrypted file. So this is where our story Begins with Tony, a computer and Satans own bastard encrypted cache file from hell.
Lets just say picking a situation completely out of the blue, in a 'for instance' kind of way, Tony hasn't much work to do as the old order book is a bit sparse at the moment. Something is needed to pass the time of day until some more work comes along. Something fun and at the same time informative. Naturally like any other normal human being of the Nineties he fires up Internet Explorer. Internet Explorer shoots its computer type juice out through the company network and out into the world wide web. Various computer juices are squirted back to his pooter and there before him are many fun and informative things...the time passed.
So far I think it's fair to say that no harm has been done, and everything is just peachy.

2. The plot thickens
After a few pictures of a certain Italian car, a few jokes, a few pictures of a girl called Sandra and her two silicon friends, Tony stumbles across a chat room and begins to chat. There is much fun to be had here, for example... taking the piss out of Americans without them even knowing it because they are so far up their own arses they can't see past their own rectal ring pieces. Here's a typical conversation...
american: wuzzup (or some other bloody stupid twat of a word) stats?
normal human 1: oh shut up tosser!
american: hey man whats a tosser?
normal human 2: you are!
american: so normal human 1 ...M/F age?
normal human 1: american, we're talking serious music here what does it matter how many pubes we've got!!!
american: what are pubes?
...and so it goes on. Another highly amusing use of said chat rooms is to don a female name and go around driving pervy hairy arsed American males into a frenzy of hand shandy delight and then informing them that you are infact a man and watch them run off faster than a teenage boy running home to his bedroom, who has just acquired his first copy of the Sunday Sport... anyway I digress... where were we...? Tony in a chat room, that's it!
After Tony had sampled the personalities and general sadness or coolness of various different nationalities, the phrase ICQ was mentioned. After much digging it was found out that this little bit of software could sit in the bottom corner of the screen and tell you when people you knew were connected to the Net. ICQ was found downloaded and installed.
Everything, as far as I can tell, is still peachy, no harm has been done, and everyone is happy!

3. The mystery woman/man/alien
If you spend more than ten minutes in a chat room it's very easy to make a few friends. Tony made one friend in particular who claimed to be a woman. Due to the very essence of the Internet we only have her word for this, she could have infact been a man, an alien, a drummer, an insurance company worker, all manner of hideous things EVEN a software telephone helpdesk support engineer, you just never know! Over the space of a couple of days Tony and mystery woman discussed all manner of things from the sock test (this is where a day old pair of sweaty, stinking socks are thrown at a spouse or partner and, without fail, every single time they come flying straight back at you!) to fetishes.
Everything is still peachy, no harm is being done, and everyone is happy (if not slightly aroused).

4. Electronic mail
There was some more work on the cards so chat rooms and all other things Internet died down a bit. A few days later Tony was chatting over a fag and coffee to one of his fellow employees who was casually informing him of various pervy things that only him and mystery woman could know about. Tony of course enquired as to how the bloody hell they knew all this stuff, to which came the reply "err... well... I got this e-mail..." and so it begins!
Tony, of course was not happy about half the company knowing his inner most perversions and fantasies, it was, he thought "like getting my cock out on the six o'clock news" which must feel pretty similar to exposing your inner most perversions and fantasies to half the sodding company! Someone had to pay. The instigator of the offending e-mail, sent to a select few disciples, was of course Mr God Complex himself.
Most companies these days use computers. Many computers in a company eventually lead to a network being set up to share things between employees. This of course leads to an ISDN connection to the outside world thus expanding the network betwixt customer, company and finally the world. A network of such awesome power eventually leads to requiring the very scum of our species, that which we call the network administrator!

5. The confrontation
As far as Tony could tell a network administrator should carry out the following tasks: 1. ensure the network, e-mail and computers are working properly, 2. ...ermmm ...hmmmmmm... well there's got to be something else they do for all that money???!!! It's probably beyond our scope of understanding and more in the league of Stephen Hawking (who I understand is soon to release a book entitled "A brief history of network administrators') ...anyway at no point did Tony recall a network administrators tasks stretching to jumping on peoples computers when they had gone home, snooping around all the files in the bowels of the hard drive and sending his findings around to a few lucky people who he felt were on a high enough plane for him to talk to. This surely was a tad out-of-f##king-order! To which tony confronted Mr God Complex and told him to please not do that again because it sucks! It sucks more than a sucking thing with a super powered sucker! ..."End of story" I hear you cry ...er no boys and girls, not yet!

6. The plot becomes so thick you stand a sturdy gold plated shovel up in it
This is where I join in the happy tale. I too had been playing about on the Internet while the work was thin and it was about at this point in proceedings we started to notice things, little things, just ickle bickle little things that you would only notice if you stared at the same poxy screen every bloody day, just enough to let you know that some snooping occurred last night after you had gone home. We both got taken for "a little chat" with the boss about our internet usage, and how we should cut down as it was causing two much traffic on the network or some such shit. I hardly think that our two piddley little computers would be causing to many problems compared to the other thirty or so dotted around the company all with bored workers attached at the end having "a quick surf". But no, Tony had dared to confront God about something that was clearly gods work and therefore should not be questioned, and me being Tonys friend got dragged into it for ...well ...no reason at all really, guilty by association I suppose. The upshot of the chat was that we had to remove all chatty type software from our computers along with some other silly things which we promptly did. This is where I got a bit pissed off to say the the least, and the egg of a song had just been fertilised by some rather annoyed sperm.

7. Frustration Vented
You see the problem with e-mail is it's instant and the problem with me at the time was I was rather cross about getting dragged into someone elses feud. Hence I sent an e-mail to all my friends explaining my current situation and that I would be pretty quiet during the day now as I was getting the proverbial electronic snip, thus stopping me squirting my electronic juice to the outside world. This e-mail I sent didn't exactly go into how much good for the world Mr God Complex had done and how we are all so much more better off with him around. It did infact involve precisely forty two expletives with the odd normal word describing how I think he should have a rather nasty accident involving razor blades, water/electricity and a very horny bull. It wasn't nice. If I'd have got it I would not have felt very loved put it that way. I may have infact shrunk two feet due to the sheer amount of negative energy squashing down on my head, but still what the hell! I was annoyed, I wrote about it, I sent it and I deleted it. End of story, frustration vented!

8. Oops!
See the thing is in the time it took me to vent my anger and frustration God had somehow managed to get a copy of my electronic outburst, in a way that only network administrators know how, and keep it nice and safe for later. I didn't know about this. I was now first in line for the big lightning bolt and Tony was back on the sideline bench. I thought it was time I removed myself from this Tony/God feud before I got anything else taken away from me, so I sent a message to God which said something like this:
Please leave me out of this little feud which is quite clearly between you and Tony as I just want a quiet life, thanks.
To which he sent back a copy of my e-mail from hell avec le sarcastic comments suggesting that I was infact DEEPLY involved. After reading back my message again it was easy to see why he'd think that, infact it was difficult to believe that this mish mash of words and expletives had not been penned or keyed by Satan himself. At first I was deeply embarrassed and upset that he'd seen it as I don't like being that crap to anyone. I was also pretty angry that he'd seen it at all, it was at this point I realised just what a unbelievable snooping git this bloke was, God only knows how he managed to see this message ...oops sorry he is God ...he knows!

9. Puppet
I realised I was infact playing right into his little game just as Judy runs straight into Mr Punches big stick. So I thought, fine, bollocks, I will stop doing or saying anything and go along with whatever the twat cares to do to my pooter with a smile and a happy song. I couldn't believe I'd got so deep into something that at the end of the day I couldn't give two short squirts of pee for. So I cut the puppet strings and went about my daily business. Everyday something would change. Files, sometimes software would be removed. One day I could get onto the internet and others both Tony and I had been cut off. Tony didn't just sit back. Every time God did something Tony would reply with a suitable message saying something along the lines of: 'Put it back how it was you puss filled boubou before I take this up with the directors', which no doubt amused God greatly.
At this stage God had had the last word, I couldn't have this and I suppose I still had some serious frustration to vent. So with the help of some music from Carl I wrote 'God Complex' and instantly published it with tini music and on this very website for all the world to see for evermore. The ULTIMATE last word!
Writing the words had made me feel a whole lot better but no where near as good as when we actually perform the song. Then it feels good, infact it feels better than when you are woken by the alarm clock on a Saturday and realise it is infact Saturday and you just forgot to turn the alarm clock off and you can now throw the alarm clock out of the window and sleep until you bloody well like! That's a good feeling.

10. The End
God still keeps trying little stupid things to attempt to piss us off, for example he put Tony and I through a thing called a proxy server so he could keep an exact snooping record of what sites we've been to and then cut our access to those sites, very mature and clever if you ask me! Occasionally this pisses me off... then we play 'God Complex' in front of two hundred people and I feel SO much better.

...Well if that lot doesn't explain this little song, nothing will!