Jadallah Dawran should look her about the iron

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 yes( )   ( )no Should RoadRunner be subjected to some kind of UDP?
 yes( )   ( )no ... active UDP (cancels) ?
 yes( )   ( )no ... passive UDP (drop messages) ?
 yes( )   ( )no ... all-groups UDP? (as opposed to specific groups)
 yes( )   ( )no Are you a Usenet sysadmin? How big:_   How long:_
 yes( )   ( )no Should another server be subjected to UDP? Who:_
 yes( )   ( )no Should UDPs be used more often?
 yes( )   ( )no Should UDPs be used less often?
 yes( )   ( )no Would you have answered this survey without anonymity?

 xxxxxxxx  end of survey  xxxxxxxx 


--
The hall of the house was dark.  I stood there not knowing   
where to go, and I jumped as a voice yelled beside me,       
seemingly at my feet, "Hi Cock, ain't'cha comin' dahn?"     
A clatter of feet, and the man's head appeared from a dimly   
lit basement door which I had not noticed.  I followed him     
down some rickety wooden stairs, fearing that any moment     
I would fall through.  "The woiks!" the man said, proudly.     
A dim amber bulb shone through a haze of cigarette smoke.     
The atmosphere was stifling.  Along one wall was a bench      

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with a drain  running  through its length.  Photographic
dishes stood at intervals along it.  On a table off to the side
stood a battered enlarger, while yet another table, covered
in lead sheet, contained a number of large bottles.
    "I'm 'Arry," said the man, "Make up yer solutions so I
kin see how yer shape."  As an afterthought, he added "We
always use Johnson's Contrasty, brings 'em up rea1 good."
'Arry stood aside, striking a match on the seat of his
trousers so that he could light a cigarette.  Quickly I made
up the solutions, developer stop-bath, and fixer.
    "Okay," he said.  "Now get a holt of that reel of film and
run off a few proofs.  I went to make a test-strip, but he
said, "No, don t waste paper, give 'em five seconds."
    'Arry was satisfied with my performance.  "We pays
monthly, Cock," he said.  "Don't do no noods.  Don't want
no trouble with the cops.  Give all the noods to me.  The
boys sometimes gets ideas and slips in special noods for
special customers.  Pass 'em all to me, see?  Now you starts
here at ten tonight and leaves at seven in the mornin,
Okay?  Then it's a deal!"
    That night, just before ten, I walked along the dingy
street, trying to see the numbers in the all-pervading gloom.
I reached the house and climbed the untidy steps to the
scarred and blistered door.  Knocking, I stepped back and
wa