Mistress Siggy's Home Page

Hi, I'm Mistress Siggy. Part time .sig file to Andrew Conway and full time fantasy realisation consultant. My mother was a fan dancer at the Windmill theatre in London's Soho district, and my father was an IBM 370/165 mainframe (it's a long story!).

Here's what Andrew wrote about the first time I met Steve Salberg's li'l .sig.

The time has come to publish the true reasons for the sudden disappearance of Steve "Doc" Salberg from rec.juggling, and to put a stop once and for all to the ugly rumours that have been circulating. Of course, the truth is equally ugly, but at least there will be no more biting remarks about adolescent baton twirlers.

I must admit that I am implicated in this, but it was not deliberate on my part. The whole nasty affair was in no way motivated by a desire on my part to rid r.j of a rival and to be the sole preserver of the noise to signal ratio. Honest.

It all started at the Burlington festival. While Steve and I were hanging out outside the gym playing with bullwhips, his li'l .sig and mine were getting to know each other. Off they went, laughing, giggling and getting up to whatever it is that .sigs get up to in the bushes. Well, it turned out that li'l sig was not so little after all. When Steve returned to his home, his .sig had developed a passionate attachment to mine, which, I confess, she did not do enough to discourage.

Of course, the relationship was doomed from the start. When li'l .sig discovered that my .sig's day job was on switchboard of the San Francisco Sleaze Line [1 (900) 844 4257] it went into a fit of deep depression. It seemed to be getting it's act together again until Steve received his next phone bill. Faced with a choice of bankruptcy or blocking 900 calls, Steve chose the latter. Li'l .sig became alternately morose and angry, and eventually attacked Steve with a tape backup unit.

Steve escaped with barely noticable brain damage, but his computer was severely injured. Li'l .sig ran away to Finland over the World Wide Web and is working in a sweatshop on an anonymous posting server.

Steve is currently suffering from some delusions about the affair, possibly caused by the blow to his head. He still believes that he has a .sig file, and talks about what it is doing. When his system is repaired and he starts posting again, it is important for everyone to humour him in this, as he gets very vicious if his belief system is challenged - if we are not careful we could all get to see the thin end of a bullwhip.

In the mean time I have asked my .sig to take a short vacation, so as not to inflame matters further. She has rented a small apartment in the Tenderloin district, and is talking about going into the massage business.

I hope this clears things up.

Well, there you have it. Like most of Andrew's writing, it's a collection of insults, exaggerations, and outright lies. Li'l .sig and I are close friends these days, and I even give him my 'frequent crawler' discount.

This is a link to more of Andrew's nonsense, which even he was forced to admit was a total fabrication. Especially the bit about the cigarette. I don't even smoke, and I would never do that to anyone, not unless they were wearing a gag, the screams are far too loud.

I have two sisters, one lives in a sort of trailer park in Nye County, Nevada, and the other one is a big star in Hollywood.

That's all for now, but look out for me at the bottom of Andrew's posts. Personally I think it's a very humiliating place for me to be, but he seems to enjoy it that way.

Mistress Siggy