Here in Australia we’re (nearly) on the end of a long, damp piece of string, internet-wise. (The actual end is occupied by New Zealand, which is a terrible place and why anyone would want to live there is beyond me).
Occasionally the rest of the world gets cut off by the rain and we have to make our own entertainment. That’s when the sheep get worried and I turn to drinking my homebrew (it’s hell out here).
But the error messages we get when such things happens are often worth it:
Bad gateway. Bed with no supper for you.
No, Richard, beyond New Zealand there is Cromer. By the time the internet gets to Cromer, fibre-optic cable is a distant memory, copper has all been nicked, and the signals run along small pieces of bailer twine loosely tied together. And as for rain, my allotment in Ilford had an annual rainfall less than that of … Jerusalem.
Antarctica has internet. They’re even further than New Zealand! Their internet is probably delayed by several days.
Maybe a run-in with a bad gateway is why “this door is alarmed”.
I always thought a door was a jar. A friend’s car of a few generations ago used to tell me so.