4 years of writers block and counting

I'm working on something

2012-01-21T00:18:00.002Z

It's not a SS, but it's something, and I'm thinking it'll be a transcript of something I'm going to record and put up on YT.

The MPAA are having a hard time of it at the moment, gawd bless 'em, and if I get enough views, hopefully I'll only help to increase that...

A shameful confession

2012-01-20T00:03:00.003Z

I shall have to come out and say that I have penned another piece, and I'm rather proud of it, but I'm ashamed to say I'll never publish it here.

The audience it was meant for was very select. It followed the familiar 4-verb format you all know and love, but the actual content is something I never want my mother to chance across, should she ever get tech-savvy enough to know how to use google.

Well, that's everything wrapped up in a nice, tidy little package then, isn't it?

2011-10-16T11:44:00.005+01:00

Following a conversation with an old chum at my Brother's wedding, I realised that what short stories I have written are pretty much scattered to the five winds on this blog, so here, collected for your enjoyment, are my efforts so far. I've left one out as, quite frankly, it was pony...

Heart Shaped Face

Green Fingers

Bleeding

Big Top

Watch the News

There you go. If I ever get my melon back in gear, i should have some more material soon. Yes, I know I've been saying that in every other post since 2006, but I REALLY mean it this time.... honest

A message to Jeremy Kyle

2010-10-30T01:45:00.002+01:00

seriously, you're kidding, right?

I mean, honestly, a fully functioning human being can't possibly be as self-loathing and morally decrepit as you, right?

If you said yes to the previous two statements, then you really are the embodiment of all that is rotten and putrid about the dross of human existance, and I genuinely hope you suffer a horrific head trauma that performs a perfect frontal lobotomy and makes you see reason and immediately put an end to the shit you keep shovelling down the throats of the massively uneducated brain-dead morons who watch your 'show'.

Invite a Karate black belt on your next show, I dares ya

How to beat the Indian call centres and have fun doing it

2010-10-03T21:58:00.003+01:00

You know the ones I'm talking about. they operate out of Mumbai or Kashmir, and since they're outside of the EU, they view OFCOM and TPS with mocking eyes. They're also the ones with the automated system that call 5 numbers at once, connects to the first line that connects, then leaves the other 4 with dead air. Illegal in the UK, there, not so much.

We've got this phone with a digital display, which is bloody handy as I can choose who to ignore, which is mainly anyone I don't know. Luckily I know how to work a compootah so a quick trip to google lets me know who just called, and I can plan accordingly.

There's a new scam doing the rounds, which I wasn't actually aware of until my chums at DVDreviewer enlightened me. They call you up and claim to be from the Windows help desk, and ask if your PC is running slow and/or crashing a lot. Now, i'm lucky, in that I'm a PC geek without being a collosal geek. I don't know what TCP/IP means but i have just spent 5 days fixing a laptop with 120 viruses using the existing OS without a recovery disc or access to the bios. It's just knowledge I've accumulated over the last 10 years, and I just do it. Don't ask me to write it down, I wouldn't know where to start.

Anyway,. with this knowledge in tow, and with these videos in mind, I was delighted when 'International Unavailable' came up on the display and I received the following call;

Me: Hello?

Them (pause - click): Hallo sir, I amcallingfromthewindowshelpdesk...

Me: Whoa whoa whoa. What the fuck was that?

Them: (pause) ... Iamcallingfromthewind...

Me: STOP STOP STOP!! I cannot understand a bloody word you're saying. Are you reading that?

Them: errr.. I.. am.. calling.. from...

Me: You taking the piss?

Them: No sir, I am calling from the Windows helpdesk. Do you have problems with your compeeyutar running slowly or crashing?

Me: no

Them: you do not have any problems with your computer running slowly or crashing?

Me: (bored) I just said that. Was that not on your script? Did that throw you?

Them:... (thrown).. so your computer is running ok?

Me: Yes, it is, It should be, I built it myself

Them: Are you a windows technician?

Me: I might as well be, I probably know more about computers than you do

Them: I'm sorry sir?

Me: I said I probably know more about computers than you do.

Them: Well, that's probably not true, I am..

Me: How do you defrag a hard drive?

Them: uh...

Me: How do you open a command console?

Them: ...

Me: what do you enter into the run command to open up the directX settings?

Them: well, I won't take up any more of your time...

Me: Hang on, hang on. You DO know everyone knows about this, don't you?

Them: Sorry?

Me: what were you going to get me to do?

Them: Pardon?

Me: You were going to make me visit a fake website that would put a virus on my computer, weren't you?

Them: uh, no sir, Like I said, I am from the wind...

Me: No you're not, you're trying to get me to visit logmein123.com and install a virus on my PC so you can steal all my personal information. Everybody knows about this, you're insulting my intelligence by even speaking to me.

Them: I am not trying to make you...

Me: Get a real job (click, brrrrr)

That felt good. I wasn't actaully angry or aggressive, I'm just a good actor. So, a few hours later, I get this..

Me: Hello?

Them (pause - click): Hulloo, am I speaking with Annabel?

Me: Do I sound like a woman?

Them: Oh, I'm sorry, is this Peter?

Me: Yes

Them: How are you today?

Me: Actually, I'm crap, I've got an infected tattoo I've just had to pay £7.20 for a bloody prescription, my hernia's playing up and I've got a bastard of a headache.

Them: Ah, Good. I'm calling you today from your home town of ash...forrd...

Me: No you're not

Them: ah

Me: If you're going to call me, in my home, don't lie to me

Them: click brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

This is the key, once you hear that pause, then the click, then the indian accent, get them on the back foot immediately. Don't get angry, but try to sound it, it's more fun that way. They are wasting your time and insulting your intelligence by speaking to you.

However, they're not all from India, Carphone warehouse are pissing a lot of people lately by employing an agency to convince you you're due for an upgrade.

Best advice, register with TPS (telephone prerence service) and when they call, tell them you're registered. When they say TPS doesn't apply to them, start filling out a TPS complaint form with them on the phone and ask them all the questions. They'll soon get the gist.

Anyway, since I started my non-aggressive resistance of their bullshit calls, we haven't had a call from them in over a month, when before they'd call us 3 times a day.

Using a years theme park access to spy on humanity

2010-08-10T21:21:00.004+01:00

For the last year, using the miracle of Tesco Clubcard rewards, my family and I have enjoyed everything that The Merlin Annual Pass has to offer. Without sounding like a corporate kiss-ass, I heartily recommend everyone gets one of these if you can afford it. We couldn't, hence the clubcard thing.

Anyhoo, we've done Alton Towers twice, Chessington about 5 times and I'm taking Luke back there the day before they expire. Thorpe Park twice (once on my own on a tuesday - thoroughly enjoyed myself) and Legoland a few times. We also went to Warwick Castle, which is actually a better 'family day out' than the other places, which can end up being days filled with stress, arguments, and crying kids because mummy and daddy wouldn't spend £8 on a mug.

That's one of the main things I noticed about these places, is that a lot of people leave the exit gates at the end of the day looking thoroughly miserable, and probably wishing they'd never come, especially as most of the locations now charge for the car park.

The majority of these people fall into one of several categories..

The Not-Exactly-Forward Thinkers

Two sub-sets: Large groups of lads or loved-up couples. They're the ones that rush to do a ride or two as soon as they get in, then have a bite to eat, after this they'll pass one of the sideshow stalls, the rigged throw the basketball, climb the ladder, hook-the-fish that initially looks easy, but it's up to the Alpha male of each subset to display his skill and prowess, and should he succeed, he'll win a stupidly huge stuffed thing, normally a snake, banana, or in the case of the couple, a cute heart with arms and legs. For the next half hour, the prize will be proudly displayed atop shoulders. After this time, the obvious sets in. It's cumbersome, awkward, you can't take it on any rides, and frankly, you look a bit of a tit if you haven't got any kids with you. Good luck squeezing it into the car for the long trip home, lads.

The Confused Foreigners

Mainly Middle-Eastern, Arabian. many wives and children in tow. The male offspring are pushy little shits, but hey-ho, that's them and all that. The girls, however, are essentially released into the park to fend for themselves. Best way to describe how this group is to relate what happened while I was queueing for Sonic Spinball at Alton Towers, which summed up everything I'd seen over the past year.

So I'm standing in the single-rider queue, waiting bloody ages and staring at Beth, one of the ride attendants who obviously forgot her Playtex that morning (EE madam?) when this giggling alerted me to a group of girls in the main queue. All wearing colourful headscarves that showed their faces, they looked about 14-16. Saudi, I'd guess. Anyhoo, they've all got expensive purses and clothing, and they're watching the cars, which seat 4 at a time, get loaded and set off on the track. If you have any bags or loose items, you hand them to Beth (...sigh...). So it comes to their turn, and 5 of them try to get on at once, with their bags, and look very confused when Beth (...) tells them they have to hand in their bags, and that only 4 can ride. So the whole ride shuts down while these 5 girls try to figure out who gets left behind, and they finally release their vice-like grip on their bags. So 4 sit in the car, one stays behind looking VERY awkward and alone, as if she's been shunned. She doesn't have long to wait as the ride only lasts a minute or so, and all 4 girls come back in their car with their headscarves all over the bloody place. The lone rider sees this and brightens up considerably, and refuses to go on the ride.

Later that day I see the father of these girls screaming blue murder at Guest Services, apparently declaring that the ride has defiled his daughters' modesty. A great time was had by all

The "I've paid a shitload of money for this, I can be as scummy as I want" type

That's almost a direct quote. Second time we went last week, a small family were behind us in the queue for the Sky Ride, which takes you to the back of a park. Saves bloody walking. Anyway the mother is smoking, and passes a sign about the designated smoking areas of the park, and that patrons are kindly requested to only smoke in these areas. Just makes it nicer for everyone else. Not so. "I've spent a load of money getting here, I'll smoke where I want. What are they gonna do? Fucking chuck me out?" Spoken like a true Chav, in front of her kids and within earshot of several other children. Sadly, they joined us in our gondola, and proceeded to impress us with her skills in guessing how old my kids are "See? I were right". Yes, well done, you've won a tumor, please go away.

Sadly, our passes expire at the end of the month, and we won't renew, not this year anyway. It's not the time it takes to get to the parks, or the cost of the fuel to get there, or the expensive... everything at the parks themselves. I do believe it was Jean-Paul Satre that said 'Hell is other people'. He obviously had to queue 2 hours for a 30 second rollercoaster one too many times as well.

(PS, one thing I did notice, out of the 5 major parks I went to, SAW: The Ride at Thorpe Park is the ONLY one where there were signs around the queue line that supplied a phone number where you could report anti-social or aggressive behaviour. Not particularly interesting, but I thought it was worth a mention)

Well, what the hell happened there?

2010-06-11T21:14:00.002+01:00

Complete lack of inspiration, that's what, plus, I was kinda distracted...

He kinda takes a lot of the concentration away from spouting drivel via a keyboard, but it's calmed down a bit now.

I DO have a couple of things cooking, but I tend to start something, barrel along at an incredible rate, then realise I have no clue where I'm going with it.

So, C+, must try harder. I'll see what I can do

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

2009-07-18T00:04:00.001+01:00

Oh this is impossible. I've written 5 different first lines of this poxy review and deleted them all because they all tailed off into nothing. Which is kind of prophetic...
Ok, the first thing that I'll have to mention is the lack of screentime for Matthew Lewis, Evanna Lynch, David Thewlis, Natalia Tena and the Phelps twins, but I'll always accept slabs of disappointment in the intermediate movie, but only as long as everyone gets to kick some serious arse in the last 2 movies. The thing with these books are that they're 'harry potter and the...', meaning that eventually, every scene would be revolving around Daniel Radcliffe, with Rupe and Ems a close second. This would of course mean that every other actor would be given adequate screen time just enough to fill a plot hole, or just be there for decoration to please the fans. This is particular for Matt Lewis, who after his strong performance in the last movie, is reduced to carrying a tray in the Slug Club and walking down a street wearing earmuffs. But like I said, slabs of disappointment.
On the flipside of that is the enhanced screentime for the cast that does get to shine. Rupert Grint reinforces his reputation as a comedic master. His entire performance during the love potion/poisoning scene had the entire cinema roaring with laughter. Even Emma, who I'd never really considered anything above a competant actress, really starts to dig her nails in, and not before time. The accuracy with which she plays the potion-making scene is bang on. Alan Rickman finally gets time to BE Snape. before he was just a sneering git that hated Harry, but now he's the character JK meant him to be.
Jim Broadbent. Now, to start, I was slightly irritated by the stupid grin he always carried, luckily it wasn't constant, and the brilliance shone through, none more so than the scene in hagrid's hut. He carried the role so well i'll always picture him when i read the character.
Tom felton. Tom, Tom, Tom... I knew well with full confidence that Tom would be able to do this and by golly I was right. he's brilliant, and totally fucking nails the part. From being a simple bully with nothing important to do (seriously, I can count his lines in the last film on one hand), to carrying the heaviest burden imaginable, he. just. nails. it. 'nuff said.
Jessie Cave is a newcomer as Lavender Brown, but could easily double for Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, only less bunnies and more wrackspurts - Brilliant.
Bonnie Wright - perfect. Her subtle flirting with Harry to the kiss (finally) is delivered perfectly.
Ok, to plot, and what's been cut and changed. Like i said earlier, while I'll find a particular change or omission irksome, even perplexing, I'll hold my tongue until the fat lady sings, and bitch about any plot holes left open then. but for the now -
Ginny hiding the potions book - Harry hiding the book was a mechanic for locating the Diadem in the final HP book. The fact Ginny does it means that Harry won't know where the diadem is, so Ginny will have greater inclusion in it's discovery in HP7 Pt2 (its official name in the studio).
The addition of the attack on the Burrow - simply a means to snip several minutes of conversation with several people about the same thing (Harry's suspicions about Draco) and blow shit up as a bonus. Also gave Tonks, Remus and the twins' something to do.
The scene in the cave - spot on. Totally, beyond words.
Sectumsempra - adequate. I didn't particularly want to see Draco on the floor with his chest wide open while he gushes blood and scrabbles at his chest. What was on screen was more than enough, thank you.
The omission of Dumbledore's funeral. Look at it this way. The only thing that came out of the funeral that isn't in the movie is the small meeting between Harry and Scrimgeour, where Scrimgeour wanted harry to stand by the ministry, but Harry tells him to shove it. This will be coming in the next movie as bill nighy has been cast as Rufus Scrimgeour for HP7 Pt1 so there's be plenty of chances for harry to tell the ministry to go fuck itself then.
I'd read a few reviews of this film before I saw it, and while the reviews were mainly positive, the overall impression I got was that the authors left the theatre with a sense of unfulfilment - a yearning to know what the hell is going to happen next. I agree. But then, that's the point,. and as such, Yates has nailed it. That's what the book was - a prelude to book 7. I've said before, while it's a great book, it's not a strong tale on its own. It's the prologue year to a shitstorm of coolness to come. That's why, in my belief, there won't be a total of 8 movies. There'll be 5 normal-length movies, and a final 7.5 hour move on 3 DVDs.
I shall have to set aside a special evening to watch all those, because there's no way in hell I'll be able to watch just the one
I will conclude, however, by confiding that the title of the movie, and any mystery surrounding the Prince, is thrown to the back of the room and largely ignored for most of the film. The final revelation from Snape is so dull and has been given so little attention that no-one cares. half-blood who?

need to get some shit in order

2009-04-09T21:47:00.002+01:00

Kinda hard to concentrate on too much at the moment, so I won't make any promises about further works. Suffice to say, if I get something stuck in my head, I'll write it down. maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon..

Ah crap, now I'm gonna have to look that up

Watch the News

2009-03-14T23:09:00.005Z

Haven't enjoyed writing something this long in a while. Hope you like it

Watch the News

He pulled up the zipper on his hooded jacket. He typed a small message on the laptop that sat on his desk under the Saw2 poster, hit ‘enter’ and shut it down. Pulling the note out of his back pocket he grabbed his bulky backpack and headed out of his dark bedroom. He didn’t try to step quietly down the stairs, his parents wouldn’t care what time it was, where he was going, or what time he’d be back. As he passed the door to the living room he could hear the TV blasting out some soap opera drama crap. Pausing by the front door, he leant the note against the vase that stood on a small table under the coat rack. There was a few letters already there from this morning. More bills piling up. He wondered how long it would be before they were all homeless. Not that it mattered to him any more.
“Going out” he ventured. No response. Probably too caught up in the fraught emotional drama of fictional characters to care about their own son.

Heaving the backpack over one shoulder he closed the front door behind him. It was quite heavy, not surprising really, with what it contained. He considered taking a bus into the city, but decided against it. Those 7/7 idiots screwed up that way. Too many security cameras these days. He wanted to stay off the radar if he could help it.
The gravel in the driveway crunched underfoot as he turned left and proceeded in a due-easterly direction. Maybe they were following him already. ‘Shouldn’t have had too many chatrooms conversations about this. You never know who’s snooping in on those things. Mind you, I can look after myself on the internet. I know about proxy servers, IP blockers, all that’. He reassured himself as he walked on, the BT tower just visible in the distance.
“Dave!” Shit.
A portly teenager, about the same age caught up with him, huffing as he fought for breath, having run only a short distance.
“Dave, hold up…” He caught up and leant heavily on his shoulder as he seemed to cough up what could very well have been a vital organ. “Ah shit, I gotta quit smoking. Nice backpack, new? You going into town?” Great, Like he needed this.
“Uh.. Yeah, no, well, yeah. No reason, just gonna hang out in the square, y’know” The fat kid leant over backwards, his balled fists on his kidneys. He relaxed, exhaling heavily, in that bloody irritating way he always does.
“Oh, cool. I’ve got to get some stuff from Forbidden Planet then I’m meeting up with Alice and Melvyn in the Trocadero. They’ve got a new machine in and Melv reckons he played it already when he went to Universal last year with his parents. Mind if I walk with you? It gets boring walking on my own”.
“Greg, breathe, please.” He started walking again, Greg falling into step beside him.
“Oh, yeah, ok. So you seen the trailer for the new Transformers movie? Looks awesome. The first one totally rocked so anything Michael Bay does to outdo himself should be fuckin unbelievable man…’ Dave listened without listening. This is what Greg was like. He’d spend an hour an evening on the internet, that was all his parents allowed him to do. They weren’t that strict, but they rationed his online time to an hour of fun per evening, so he spent that hour mainly browsing movie websites, star wars, aicn, all those. Sites that claimed exclusives but borrowed from each other. The exclusive was only beheld by the site you visited first. He also regarded bay movies as the pinnacle of Blockbuster entertainment. As long as shit blows up and a black guy or two shout a lot, that’s award-worthy in his opinion.

They walked the length of Shaftsbury avenue, Greg breaking off at the store adorned with Doctor Who and Watchmen paraphernalia, continued down the road and hung a left on Charing cross road to Leicester square. The park in the middle was quiet at the moment. Coming here a lot earlier would have meant trying to complete his task during lunchtime, when hundreds of people tried to eat their lunch while sitting in each others lunchboxes. He walked past the Odeon and grabbed something to eat from the Subway on the corner. The trick was always to spell out what you wanted when you ordered, or they tried to sell you double everything.
He found a quiet spot on the grass under a tree. Heaving his backpack off his shoulder he placed it gently on the grass and started to eat his sandwich. He always found it amazing that in the middle of a craphole like London you could actually find pockets of peace. It was approaching 4pm and given the time of year dusk was falling rapidly, which also meant the starlings went nuts about this time. The continuous chirping was actually quite pleasant, while also being irritating as hell.
He opened the top of his backpack and fiddled around with the contents inside while simultaneously pressing the keys on his mobile phone, looking from one to the other. Closing the top of the backpack he heaved it to beside the trunk of the nearby tree and stood up. Having a look around for anyone taking an interest in him, and set off empty-handed south towards Trafalgar square.

Greg sat in the huge arcade machine, the grin on his face actually making his cheeks hurt. He jiggled on the seat like a schoolboy on a trip to the beach.
“Sorry mate, I can’t let you play this game”. The grin evaporated.
“What? Why?” Greg rolled himself out of the hydraulically-mounted bucket seat, ending up on all fours, before hauling himself upright. Sweating profusely, he pushed his glasses back up his nose before facing the tall Trocadero machine attendant. The attendant simply pointed to a large sign on the cage surrounding the machine.
‘No-one over 18 stones in weight can use this machine’. Greg started going pink.
“How dare you? I might be a little overweight, but I’m not 18 stones” The attendant shrugged.
“I’m sorry, but the weight is actually a guideline, the real issue is your… size.” Greg looked down at himself.
“Size?”
“Look mate, this machine turns you upside down as you get into the third level. The fact is, this thing needs to hold you down, and because of your… size, the harness won’t get over your… it won’t go over you. I’m sorry, it’s just unsafe.”
Greg tried to respond, but he seemed lost for words, and was barged out of the way by the next customer, laughing openly in Greg’s face as he took his seat and smugly pulled the harness over himself. Dejected, he turned to his friends who were waiting in the queue. They seemed to be rather attached to each other, emotionally and literally.
“Come on, let’s go”. There was a sucking sound as Melvyn and Alice separated themselves from each other’s face.
“What? Why? We want to have a go on this thing, then I promised Alice we’d have a dodgem marathon later”.
“This place sucks, I wanna go”, Alice’s giggles weren’t filling him with hope.
“You go man. We’re gonna stick around here. Look, I’ve been promising Alice this for ages.” Greg picked up his Forbidden Planet carrier bag from the floor beside the machine and gave a hateful look at his ‘friends‘.
“Fine, thanks for nothing, have fun”. He stormed off, tripping slightly over a step on the way out.

Stepping out onto Piccadilly Circus, he leant up against the railings and breathed heavily. He hated days like these. It wasn’t his fault he was fat, his parents were big, his sister was just a bit smaller than him. His older brother was as thin as a rake, but he didn’t even look like the rest of the family, so Greg never considered him to be from the same gene pool. He looked up and felt his eyes stinging. No, he wasn’t going to start crying. He cried enough when the bullies picked on him during his school years. Standing up straight and sniffing loudly, he set off to where he knew his one true friend would be, always willing to have a chat.

Trafalgar Square was always busy at around 5. The offices and schools were out, tourists stood around in bunches, looking straight up at the admiral, taking out of focus and badly-angled pictures on their digital cameras. David strolled by the empty plinth at the back of the square. He wondered what abomination they’d finally lump on there. The naked amputee statue was interesting, but you’d get bored of staring at those tits all day. He walked down the steps at the rear of the square, over to the column and sat down on one of the steps. Unzipping his top, he finally took down his hood and pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket. Immediately it vibrated and Linkin Park sounded tinnily from the speakers. The caller ID told him Greg was calling. Why the hell he ever gave him his number he couldn’t remember why. He sighed heavily and hit the button.
“Greg, what’s up? I thought you were meeting Aly and Mervin. Alice and.. Yeah, them. Oh, right. Well, I was going to head back now anyway. No, don’t worry, my dad’s coming to pick me up. No, I’m in Trafalgar square, he’s picking me up near the road”. Dave’s phone suddenly beeped. “Ah shit. Sorry Greg, my battery’s going. Nah, I need to make another call quickly. I’ll catch you soon, Ok?”. He hurriedly pressed the ‘end’ button and looked at the screen. The screen promptly went blank.

Shit.

Greg trudged down Coventry street and into Leicester Square. He’d been on his way here when he called Dave and couldn’t be arsed to change direction. He was feeling bloody miserable. He’d inadvertently selected the short walk to reflect on his life. He was 17, overweight, but not obese, oh lord no. His weight was losing him friends. If they actually were his friends in the first place. He’d tried calling them but he couldn’t hear anything over the sounds of all that awesome fun they were having. He was even getting out of breath walking short distances, and it was even slightly downhill to here from the Circus.
He staggered slightly as he walked towards the railings surrounding the park. Looking around his eyes rested on a tree at the far end, and a backpack that was resting against the trunk.

Damn damn damn! Dave pressed the power button on his phone again, in the vain hope of squeezing one iota of power out of the battery. No joy. Looking around frantically, he spotted a Mobile Phone shop just off the square and broke into a sprint towards it.

Greg’s fingers scrolled through his contact list and found Dave. He was sure this was Dave’s backpack. Picking it up he held the phone to his ear. Straight to voicemail. Luckily, Greg knew exactly where Dave was.

“Can you charge my battery for me? I’m expecting a really important phone call, it’s an emergency”. The mobile phone shop assistant took the Phone out of Dave’s hands.
“Yeah, I think we can do that”. She opened a drawer and took out a charging plug for his phone. “How much charge do you need?”
Dave tried to sound relaxed. “Just enough for one call. I’m… I need to call my dad to pick me up. I’ve been to the Trocadero… There’s a new machine in there…” He was rambling, but an extra alibi can’t hurt. The girl connected the charger to the bottom of Dave’s phone.
“Oh yeah, I heard about that one. Is it true you get strapped in and it turns you upside down?” Dave was wringing his hands slightly.
“Er..? Yeah, I think so. I didn’t really get that far up. Just hung around the dodgems, you know… “ He looked at the clock behind the counter, this was cutting it fine. Bloody Greg. If he hadn’t called he’d have enough charge left. A few minutes passed. “Will that give me one phone call?”. The girl unplugged the phone.
“Yeah, you’ll get a minute or so. But you really have to let the batteries run right down or it shortens the life, you know. I can give you….” But Dave was already leaving with a hasty ‘thanks…’

“David? Are you still up there? Dinner’s on the table.” Dave’s mother stood at the foot of the stairs. He spent all his time up there on that computer, she often lamented to him that spending that amount of time wasn’t healthy, and given his recent exam grades if he didn’t actually get out there into the workplace he’d never get anywhere. Start early. That’s how her father got where he was, but you couldn’t tell kids that these days. They sit there expecting life to hand itself to them on a plate.
She noticed the letters on the table, and the note that wasn’t there earlier. It was in David’s handwriting. She opened the envelope and read the note, which simply said.

‘Out of here
Getting paid
Watch the news
Bye’.

Standing in the middle of Trafalgar Square, Dave scrolled through his contact list, until ‘Payday’ was highlighted. He’d probably hear it from here. He didn’t care about who it affected. Or who got hurt. He just cared about the money. Keep telling yourself that. He hit the call button just as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and an out of breath Greg held up his backpack.

“Caught ya”.

All characters and situations are fictitious. This work is the property of Peter Morris-Kelso and cannot be reproduced or altered without the owner's permission

Standing against the gullible masses + comparing tabloids newspapers to the bible

2009-03-14T16:54:00.003Z

I don't know why i constantly do it to myself, but when the working day is a bit quiet, i'll invariably reach for a colleague's copy of the Sun. Why I constantly put myself through this dirge of editorial-as-news is beyond me.

For example, to drag out a tired theme, the news last week reported that ChavQueen Goody had awoken in hospital to discover a 'Crazed hammer weirdo leaning over her, chanting and muttering'. Jade then yelled for help, and the woman ran off. She was later arrested and found to be carrying a bag that contained a hammer. She was also discovered to be french. This, it would seem is enough for the sun to classify this strange woman as a raving lunatic who should be locked up forever to save us all from her lunacy...

No, read on.

One thing to take on board is that Jade Goody is desperately unintelligent. Criminally so. And the 'muttering and chanting' that she heard was more than likely just spoken french, which Jade understands less than proper English.

“She had not attempted to use the weapon.”
A Met Police source said the woman was armed with a hammer.

Hold on. How can she be armed if she had not attempted to use the hammer? Surely this whole story would have more credence, and basis in reality, if the woman had been standing over the prone patient, hammer in hand, screaming for blood. Nope, what we've got here is a mildly alarming incident, that was nothing whatsoever, merely another reason to put JG in the pages and sell more copies.

On another subject, the Sun, again, this week reported that there was a recent screening of the new Harry potter movie and that the reviews were less than favourable. Probably would have had more effect if the news wasn't 4 months old and contained nothing not already known by anyone that cares.

The problem is, staunch Sun readers lap this bullshit up like it's gospel. There's a phrase, 'According to the Sun...'. There are 2 ways to read that statement. One is to take everything as fact, the other is to treat everything printed as news as utter bullshit intil you hear it from the horses mouth, so the speak.

If you believe the former, then i'm sorry, but you're as beyond help as scientologists, Jehovah's witnesses and mormons. If, like me, you believe the latter statement then sadly you're in the minority. They're all around us, and they really believe the Page 3 girls write their own articles.

Geeky Perv Alert

2009-03-02T22:45:00.003Z

I've loved Futurama since day 1, and it only proved that Fox doesn't give a shit about anything except numbers, not fanbase, when it comes to cancelling series. (see Angel & Firefly for evidence).

Anyway, getting back on topic. The chicks in Futurama are hot, in a 2-D fictional way. Any's a complete fruitcake so my attention always steered towards leela. There's always been plenty of nudity (kinda) in the episodes, but never enough shown to warrant a stricter rating. Until now. Actually, no, that's a lie. It would appear that leela's mutation doesn't just give her one eye and elbow talons...

She doesn't have any nipples.

What a jip.

Embracing the past

2009-01-26T22:05:00.002Z

Haven't updated in a while.. again. Sorry about that. I'd like to make one small excuse in that I've discovered Facebook, which verily doth rock, much more than i thought it would. I'd always shied away from such social networking sites, no real reason for it, I suppose I thought it was too much like Myspace, which is the internet equivelant of standing on a box shouting "Look at MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE". Luckily, Facebook, i've discovered is much more about everyone else, which suits me fine. Also, it's a damn sight better than Friends Reunited. I've got people from my old schools talking to me now, when they wouldn't have spoken to me in public 20 years ago (Hey, i'm cool with that, i don't hold grudges, besides, i wasn't exactly the outgoing type).

Anyhoo, I'm also off the beer, well, except special occasions, not just for celebrating the weekend, so hopefully the creative juices will start doing something again.

I do have a few ideas floating around up there, Just need to iron out the edges before putting skin to keyboard.

So hello again, welcome if you're new here (just plugged this on FB), have a look around the old posts, but hands off the stories, all copyright me and stuff. i've got plans for them...

Sam Lutfi was going to kill Britney

2008-10-11T21:49:00.002+01:00

Seriously. I know this isn't the usual thing i post about but i've just watched the latest video from Ms Spears, and while the song is repetitive and rather dull, the video is a completely different story.

A year ago we were a little shocked and personally a little sickened at the disgusting conduct of the tabs and the paps while Britney was going through a very public physical and psychological breakdown. That image of her crying her fucking eyes out while the 20 or so fuckheads with cameras did nothing but take more pictures. I honestly thought that South Park episode was going to become reality

Then daddy spears took control and sacked Lutfi. Then it came out that he'd been force-feeding her all kinds of meds and crap, turning her bi-polar and making her sleep with Adnam Ghalib. as much as he protested his innocence, you only have to watch that video to see what she's managed to do without him.

Good for her, and I actually say that with none of the pathetic cynicism you normally associate with celeb-based articles.

No Punchline. Move along

For Sale

2008-09-04T22:07:00.005+01:00

One Moped, available on http://www.autotrader.co.uk/. There may be an issue with the suspension...

Seriously, didn't the guy taking the picture think to at least close the doors? What is that? A Bedroom? There's just... clothing...

Yankee Hypocrites

2008-08-27T22:05:00.003+01:00

Couldn't gove a toss about the US elections. I trust all the lying, two-faced candidates as much as the lying, two-faced leader and opposition leader we've got over here. However, given the current events regarding Hillary's 'ex-voters' leads me to believe that the debacle in Florida 8 years ago that gave the world the inept fuckwit we've been lumbered with, is purely for the fact that the great American voter is a moron.

Ok, so McCain's out on his own since his opponent drops out, so all the interest now centres on the Obama/Clinton tussle, meanwhile McCain starts complaining that Obama's getting all the interest - well duh. Looks like that free ride you were patting yourself on the back for has screwed you fully in the anus. There's no interest in the Republicans.

So, back to the Democrats. Obama and Clinton go hammer and tongs at each other. Clinton's got Bill, Barack's got the fist-bump. But while they're decrying each other's policies, they're also decrying McCain. Let's concentrate on hillary, but not too much, she's fucking hideous close-up.

She's got a legion of (mainly) female supporters cheering and applauding her as she shouts down mcCain and Obama. Then it starts to look like Clinton's going to drop out. The supporters rally and try to trump up support, but to no avail. Crying in the streets they go home without a candidate.

Now, this week, Hillary turns up in Denver, pledging support for Barack, despite their differences, and implores the Democratic faithful to vote Obama, if only to keep the Republicans out of the whitehouse.

Nope. the fucking dimwits have started the Clinton for McCain campaign, where the same braying sheep that followed Hillary and hankered on her every word are completely forgetting everything she preached to them and are turning to the person they've hated ever since they learned how to spell his Surname.

Shit, guys. Tell it what the fuck it is.

You were voting for the White woman because she wasn't a Black man. I hate to imply Racism where it may not be, but this is so transparent it's painful.

However, if Obama gets in, I sincerely hope he doubles his security detail when he's travelling through good ol' boy land...

Life, the everlasting life, all that crap

2008-08-25T01:05:00.004+01:00

I had something thrust through my letterbox today. It was from my local church, St martins, about a 5 minute drive away. All the usual guff. Little tibits about village events that is deemed worthy. Something it pointed out was the "Dougle G club". which stands for ' Games and God', where young kids can play energetic games while learning about christianity.

I am, by definition, an atheist, although I'll disparage that definition later. It strikes me as desperate than the modern church has to resort to childish attempts to get down wiv da kidz in an attempt to get them into church. Listen up, Father, if the kids aren't interested from the age of 7 in the church, you're not going to get them in any later than that for the simple reason, Kids aren't as gullible as you think they are

And I don't mean that in an nasty way. I'd never claim that the christian faith was a brainwashing cult, I leave that claim to the scientologists. I simply mean that, if you were to tell a child that has no religion in its upbringing, then preaching the holy bible to him/her will yield no results, for one simple reason; the bible, as a story, is totally unbelievable and spectacularly self-contradicting. Genesis, in its entirety, is an excuse for billions of years of the planet sorting itself out to the state it is in today. Creationists can't accept this because they're working on a much shorter timescale. they think the earth is only about 6000 years old. Double that, then multiply it by 10. then another ten, then so on. The world is physically older then the faithful is willing to believe, because they're willing to be controlled in what they believe. To be faithful is to be controlled in what you believe by a book that tells the story of events that happened beyond the realms of human recording. It's guesswork, and it's worth several million a year in charitable donations.

So anyway, I'm an atheist, so I'm evil and deserve to rot in hell. Well there's the thing, i don't believe in hell, so I have no fear for it. hell is another invention to scare the qullible into obeying. And why am I evil? I spent 90% of yesterday helping out at a charity day, working my tits off for no pay and no adulation. I did it because I wanted to help. I'm also a loving husband and father, and would readily lay my life on the line for them.

I posted before about when I was confronted my some mor(m)ons, and the last sentence of that post still holds true. Do what you do to fulfill your life, gain comfort and solace from it, and allow it to make you a better person. I can do all that by myself, thanks very much.

Sorry again if I've offended anyone but us evil heathens are good at that

Exactly how do you prepare yourself for an hour of agony?

2008-07-26T00:16:00.002+01:00

Booze, would be the answer normally, but tattooists generally frown upon customers entering their salons asking for hitler to be tattooed on their foreheads.

(Pedants note; I never capitalize 'hitler')

I'm getting another tattoo done tuesday morning (would have been monday but... never mind, it's dull) and it's going to be about an hour of 100jbs (jabs per second) on the spine and shoulder blades. It would be dishonest to say i'm not shitting myself. The only solace I can derive is that i'm paying for pain, but not in the max mosely sense of the phrase.

Which, while detracting slightly from my point, brings me to ask, who the fuck pays for pain, seriously? I had a small shitty tattoo done on my spine years ago (which this new one is covering up) and it was excruciating for 5 minutes. This new one I'm having done is going to be at least an hour and while the studio offers pain relief, It's pricey, so I'm taking a book.

I'm going to file this one under 'pissed posts'. I'll read it tomorrow and cringe, then edit and/or delete

aw crap

2008-05-17T11:38:00.003+01:00

Nothing to see here.. move along... but seriously folks, take my wife, etc... Nowt to report, just waiting for contracts and things to happen. Bit weird really, what with me being a complete virgin when it comes to these matters, I feel I should be making phone calls or meeting people. Oh well, suppose it's ll a learning experience.

On the plus side, made £40 quid on ebay for some old strategy guides, which was nice. On the down side, my truck is destroying itself on a daily basis. Outrigger leg needed replacing, mirror broke, crane pissing hydraulic oil all over the bed, plus the anti-gravity repulsorlift generator's been stuck on all week. makes steering a bugger...

Green Fingers - a surprising turn of events

2008-05-04T01:38:00.002+01:00

after a month racking my brains trying to sort out the back story for Bleeding, all of a sudden Green Fingers adapted itself into a screenplay in about 3 hours, the swine.

Some director bloke likes it, and apparently, he's gonna film it.

scuse me while i get another fookin' beer...

GAWD BLESS YA 'ARRY!!!!

2008-03-01T22:08:00.004Z

So Prince Harry went out to afghanistan and fought the enemy. Big fucking whoop. He's in the bloody army, he's supposed to. For the last 10 weeks he's been out there, doing his job, commanding his troops, and doing it very well. Obviously, he's kept his face under wraps, and thanks to a news blackout agreed with the British media, he's been doing it under a shroud of well-maintained secrecy.

...until some prick with a sense of self-importance larger then the aesthetic quality of his basic-at-best website thinks it'll be a great idea to blab to the world about his exclusive (which he stole from Australia) find that Harry's out doing his job, and thereby immediately making him and his entire platoon the Taleban's MVT.

Then , of course, all the news agencies (including the BBC - for shame) reported every hour, on the hour, about Harry's final movements out of the battle Zone. Just in case the taleban had a couple of SAM's they needed to get rid of..

I'm not going to name the prick that spilled the beans (although it's pretty much public knowledge by now) but it's dickwads like these that make me realise William Atherton's Dick Thornberg wasn't such a stretch from the truth after all...

Pissing in the wind - Theologically speaking

2008-01-26T00:07:00.000Z

Time is precious, especially when you've got so little of it in the day to get all of your work done.

Today, I'm going about my business, delivering nondescript building materials to an address that's a bugger to get to (again). As I'm waiting at the door I've just knocked on, 3 guys wearing black bomber jackets pass me.

The Following is an ABSOLUTE FACTUAL TRANSCRIPT of events that happened to me today.

"Hello there"

Um.. ok, polite enough..

"Hello" (I knock at the door again)

"Keeping busy?" They're standing there, side by side, with rather unsettling smiles on their faces. I'm a polite person, very non-antagonistic..

"Yeah, it's picking up. Always quiet this time of year" (Jeez, open the fucking door)

"Do you get much free time in your line of work?"

"Oh, I only work 7 till 5, I spend the rest of my time with my family, really"

"Oh. that's very nice. Tell me, would you consider devoting some of that free time... to Jesus...?"

Oh. Jesus tap-dancing-fucking Christ. here he go (inhales)

"Sorry, I don't believe in God. You're wasting your time"

Three smily faces become three faces of concerned disappointment so quickly I don't even see the transition

"Oh, so you've rejected god" (heads tilt to the side sycopantically, I try not to laugh)

"No, I don't believe in god" Perplexed expressions

"That's what I said"

"No. In order to reject a non-specific deity (Thanks Bill Bailey) I have to have had some initial belief in them. I've never believed in a god, therefore, I haven't rejected anything."

"Oh, so you're an Atheist" (the expressions are almost like those you'd see over a death-bed)

"Nope"

"But if you don't believe in Our Lord, you must be an Atheist"

"Says who?"

This completely threw them. Timothy (who was leading the conversation) quickly spoke with Sebastian (watery eyes, bad skin) before turning to me. I think they have courses teaching them how to deal with difficult specimens.

"The bible teaches us.."

"Excuse me, The bible might teach you, but I've never read it, therefore it can never teach me anything, let alone tell me how to lead my life, let alone tell me how to treat others with differing ideas on how to lead their lives."

"But, if you do not accept Jesus and his teachings then you'll never be.."

"Never be what? A good person?"

"Well, yes, you'll never.."

"HOW DARE YOU!!!" (I actually shouted, the mirth held tightly within, an academy award beckons before age 40, I'm sure) "How dare you pass judgement on me without knowing me. I work hard for my meagre wage, i provide for my wife and child, who I love with all my heart and soul, and would readily lay my life on the line to spare theirs. How dare you say that I'm not a complete person unless I pledge devotion to a fictional character in a book."

15 seconds of silence followed. They turned their backs on me to discuss something, when a neighbour of the house opened their door

"Is no-one answering? I think they're out the back, I'll get them for you"

"Thank you. Soon as you can would be lovely"

The 3 of strong faith turned to me.

"We understand you have a strong belief in your own following.."

"Nicely put"

"..but would you take this leaflet, and might I ask you to spare some of your time.."

"A leaflet? A Fucking leaflet? You're trying to preach the word of the Lord Almighty to the massed heathens and the last vestige of truth you cling to is a piggin' leaflet? Why can't you accept that you can't change the way people think?"

"We're not trying to change..."

"What have you been doing in this street today?"

"Well, we've been canvassing the neighbourhood, asking the residents if they'd like to join our church"

"Fair enough. And if they were atheists, or agnostics, of if they belonged to a different church..?"

"Then.. we would have told them of the ways of Mormon, and advised them to join our church"

"So you're telling them to change the way they think? If they have one belief, you consider that to be wrong, and advise them to come around to your way of thinking. Does your faith teach tolerance?"

"Of course, but when the lamb has strayed..."

"Oh, get fucked, will ya? You claim to preach tolerance, yet when someone dares to think in a slightly different way from your bigoted views, they have no choice but to be saved by your noble belief. Stop talking to me. you're insulting my intelligence with every breath"

At this point the customer actually opened his door and gave me an excuse to leave these imbeciles.

I have no problem with religion of any kind, up until the point where it tells me how I have to live my life. I am a husband and father. I work bloody hard for a living, and I struggle at times to get by. I am a realist, not an atheist. The word atheist is bandied around a lot as someone who doesn't believe in God. I have no belief, to be an atheist is to belive there is no god, which in turn, is a belief.

I'm also tolerant. Years of bullying and being demeaned by my peers have teached me humilty, that no man is above another, no matter their status in socity their wealth or breeding, of their faith.

I Think, therefore I am. God's got nothing to do with it.

Mugglenet got hacked

2008-01-06T00:34:00.000Z

I'm a moderately passionate Harry potter fan, not quite passionate enough to visit a supermarket at midnight to get my copy, but enough to know that Harry named his daughter Lily luna.

Therefore, it was with a sense of anger that I'd learned that mugglenetgot hacked quite severely this week.

Now, I'm in 2 minds about this. One, that I'm fucking angry that a well-meaning, non-malicious site such as mugglenet would be the subject of such an attack.

And Two. You're a hacker. You've assembled a team of the best hackers in your sad little no-other-friends-on-the-planet circle, you've managed to steal some of the best hacking tools from limewire and mininova, you're all braced for the most 1337 hack on the feckin planet and you hack Mugglenet??? That's it? It was down for 36 hours and NO-ONE NOTICED.

Emerson, if you read this, which I doubt, but if, well done for getting back up and showing these genetically deficient fuckwits exactly how much of a dent they made in out lives, and to the hackers themselves, got one word for ya...

Window Shopping

2007-10-05T23:08:00.000+01:00

It's been a long time coming, couldn't figure how the hell to end it. In the end, i decided on a departure from my normal tangents..

Thanks to Jammie for Lightning, Speaker, Pillbox Hat & Fir tree..

Window Shopping.

The high street buzzed with Saturday shoppers. Bargain-seeking housewives with noisy offspring, elderly couples holding everyone up as they potter about and randomly stop for no apparent reason, their prattle drowned out by the shouts of the market stall holders hawking their cheap imported wares. In amongst all the 'normo's', Siobhan and Clarissa barged past everyone to get to no-where in particular, swearing randomly as they went.

"Oh this is really pissing me off, Sibs." yelled the shorter, fatter one to her lanky companion, who was currently held up by an old woman gazing at a comfy cardigan in the window of Quality seconds.

"Ah... crap... Hang on C, I'm just... hang on.." 'Sibs' sidestepped the old woman and trod on the toes of a small child as she passed. The child's mother glared at her as the child burst into tears. "Oh... sorreee" she mumbled incoherently as she caught up with her fellow rebel outside Woolworths.

"So, where d'ya wanna go C?" drawled Siobhan, chewing her gum in a hopefully aggressive way. She checked her make-up in the shop window. Her face was mainly black and white, a stark message to the oppresive regimes of the establishment, which mainly amounted to her incredibly wealthy parents. Clarissa was a schoolfriend who she'd never really managed to get rid of. Truthfully, she liked C, as she was pretty much her only friend, and imitation was supposed to some kind of flattery. Clarissa checked her make-up too, it was pretty much the same, but C hadn't got around to dying her hair purple as Sibs had done. Pale face, black edges and the entire Emo look somehow didn't quite gel with her frizzy ginger hair, but she was happy as long as she had people like Sibs to tell her she looked ok.

"Ummm.. wanna go to Top Shop? My cousin's mate says they've got this great new line.." Sibs cut across her.

"Too conformist, I've told ya. Never go into a shop that has anything from the top 10 playing out of the speakers. They're trying to turn us all into clones, all wearing the same outfits and listening to the same crap. No-one tries to be an individual anymore. Not like us..." She nodded moodily as a familiar pair of identically-garbed creatures of the night passed in the opposite direction. "See? we're making a statement. We don't follow normal clothing patterns". Clarissa sighed. That line was lifted straight from Kevin & Perry. Sibs did this a lot, tried to be a rebellious type, but in the end, just displayed her general ignorance. Clarissa kept her tongue. It was quite fun listening to Sibs talk sometimes, she'd even started writing some of her less-intelligent musings down at home.

They came up to a recently-vacated bench under a young fir tree, no doubt planted to give some colour to the grey facade of the buildings lining the street. There was a hot dog stall at the end of a raised planter. Siobhan reached into her pocket and pulled out a tenner.

"Here, C, get us both a couple of hot dogs or something, I'm bloody starving." Clarissa sighed again, but did as she was asked. Another benefit of having Sibs as a mate - she was generous to a fault. Clarissa joined the long queue, tutted at the undetermined waiting time, pulled out her mobile phone and started jabbing at the keypad.

Siobhan stretched out on the bench stretching her arms along the top of the back of the bench, giving sort-of threatening glares to anyone they even looked like they wanted to take the weight off their feet. Looking at the queue, Clarissa hadn't moved an inch.

"Excuse me, dear, is that seat taken?" Siobhan jumped a foot in the air

"Jesus Christ! You scared the bloody life out of me! What'tya do that for?" The little old lady's smile didn't falter at the tone.

"Oh, my dear, I'm sorry about that. Would you mind if I sat there? My hip's giving me gyp again." Siobhan looked her up and down, she was wearing a pink suit with a skirt far too short for her years, and topped it off with a stupid little pillbox-hat. She was leaning on a walking stick and, although smiling, had a pained look in her eyes.

"Oh, well, I was waiting... Um.. yeah, sure.." She shuffled to one end of the bench and the woman sat down with a grateful sigh. She placed her heavy shopping bag beside her and sat back. Siobhan was pointedly looking in the opposite direction to the woman 'don't talk to me, don't talk to me, don't talk to me...' she thought, Clarissa was not much further along. She caught her eye and gave the internationally recognised shrug of general 'what's happening?'. Clarissa shrugged back and pointed at the old woman at the front of the queue, who seemed to be paying for a cup of tea with pennies. Siobhan sat back down in her seat and exhaled noisily.

"We never seem to be in a hurry, do we dear?" Siobhan cast a furtive glance out of the corner of her eye. 'Oh god, she's talking to me, isn't she? At least she isn't.. yes, she's offering me a sweet'. Siobhan gave a non-commital grunt as means of a response. "Would you like a bonbon?' She sank further into her section of the bench, trying to make herself invisible.

"No thanks" she muttered, head bowed as low as she could into her chest. If she gave off an air of indifference,maybe she wouldn't..

"Well, you see everyone these days, all rushing around, no time to take in what's around themselves. When you get to our age, You've done your rushing. We just want to take it easy".

"Bit selfish" Siobhan surprised herself by responding.

"Oh, you do speak. And why would you call us selfish?" Arms still folded across her chest, Siobhan sat up a little.

"Well, you might want to take it easy, but people have got places to go. You get in the way". The old lady observed her for a second.

"We have places to go too, you know. I ask you, what destination was so important that you had to barge past so many people? This bench? That burger van? You might be young now, but I'd advise you to slow down a bit. You're wasting your youth. Trust me on this Siobhan". She held her bag of sweets a little higher and poked around inside, a small smile in the corner of her mouth betrayed her supposed nochalance.

"How do you know my bloody name?" Siobhan was giving her her full attention now. "Who are you? Have you been following me? What do you want me for?" The old lady chuckled gently and placed the bag of sweets back into her straw bag.

"I don't want you for anything, my dear. I haven't been following you at all, and I know your name, because you and your friend at the burger van were shouting at each other at the top of your voices in your haste to get to this rather dull bench. I doubt there isn't a person in this street that doesn't know your and your friend Clarissa's name. I'd also wager that they've all got a pretty shrewd idea of what kind of characters you both are too. I'm surprised you weren't deafened by the tutting" The indignation on the young girl's face emitted a radiation possibly hotter than the burger van's grill. She stood up, her face beetroot with adolescent rage

"Hang on, who the bloody hell do you think you are you old bitch? I can do what the fuck I like" Again, the woman didn't flinch at the tone.

"Yes, you can. I told you, you're young, but I'll tell you again, you have to slow down, or you'll dance yourself into an early grave, and everyone you know will think of how poorly you spent your years. Sit down, my dear. Please." Siobhan folded her arms and resumed her position on the bench, stoically looking away. She glanced at Clarissa, she was at the front of the queue and apparently hadn't noticed the shouting.

"Can I bore you with a little tale? When i was about your age I lost a very good friend. She wasn't the best of friends, in fact she could be a stubborn, selfish bitch herself sometimes, and she acted like the world owed her a favour. Stropping about all the time, pushing others around, barging through crowds, a lot like you, truth be told, no offence... well, not much." Siobhan huffed and folded her arms a little tighter. "But her family and friends loved her, and would you like to know what happened? She was struck by lightning. Simple as that. A bolt from the blue, so to speak." At these words, Siobhan instinctively looked up. it was a clear blue sky. She held herself closer. After a long pause, she spoke.

"Why are you telling me this? I'm nobody, I don't need a Mr Miyagi. There's thousands of kids like me." For the first time, she looked the old lady in the eyes and was instantly struck at how tired, yet indescribably familiar they were.

"You honestly believe you're nobody? See your friend there? She loves you more then you know. She might think you're a little predictable with too many movie quotes in your vocabulary, but she cares more for you than she'd ever say, and if you weren't there for her, she'd disappear into herself. It's not just you, Siobhan, don't take this for something it isn't. There's thousands of close friends who never tell each other how they really feel about each other.... and... then... then it's too late to say anything, because you grow up, or grow apart." Tears glistened in the old woman's eyes, and Siobhan felt deeply ashamed she didn't have a tissue to offer her. Suddenly, Clarissa was beside them, holding a ketchup-dripping hotdog in each hand, a bemused expression on her face as she beheld the spectacle of her rebellious Emo friend conversing tenderly with an old dear wearing an entirely inaproppriate outfit.

"Um.... Sibs? You... ok?" Siobhan looked at her friend and nodded. She turned to her elderly comapnion and placed a hand on her shoulder. She tried to speak but no words came. It wasn't a thought process that came easily to her. The old woman nodded and smiled.

"Don't you worry dear, I'm ok, it just does good to let it out. Remember that, don't keep it all bottled up. There isn't a problem you'll ever have that someone else hasn't already had, and overcome. Just.. remember what friends are actually for." She smiled at Clarissa "Now, didn't your friend there want to do something...?"

Siobhan stood up. Again, she was stumped for words. She settled for a timid 'Thanks', took her friend's arm (and one of the hotdogs) and walked away in the direction of TopShop.

A short while later, quite unexpectedly, there was an almightly bang as a white-hot bolt of lightning touched ground blasting apart a bench, where, several witnesses had sworn that a sweet old woman in a pink outfit had been sitting moments before, yet no-one could recall actually seeing her leave.

Fudge

2007-09-15T20:32:00.000+01:00

Quite possibly the geekiest thing i've done in many a year (and for me, that's saying something), but if you're at all interested, here's me, demonstrating how to make my rather splendid fudge-type-tooth-rotting stuff.

How the Teaser Trailer for deathly Hallows should look.

2007-08-27T01:42:00.000+01:00

Black. A pin-prick of light suddenly appears centre screen, we hear the distant sound of a door closing.

Footsteps. They get increasingly louder as we gradually see 2 people walking towards us. All we can see is their feet, which are just below centre-screen as they approach. We begin to make out that one pair of legs belong to a girl in victorian dress, the other to a man. black trousers, black shoes.

The girl stops walking, but the man takes a few more steps, then stops.

The figure jumps down from his invisible dark ledge, then straightens up. We see the face of Neville Longbottom, long hair, with a visible scar on each cheek.

He stares straight at camera, then smiles his lop-sided smile, then speaks.

"Hi, Harry"

-Cut to Title-

My Greatest Ever Doodle

2007-08-12T23:37:00.000+01:00

Many, many moons ago I actually had some free time on my hands whilst at work. During this rare free time, I tended to doodle. Some efforts were optical illusions, others mere spheres with gourad-worthy shading. Trowlong through an old CD of old pre-re-installation data, i found this puppy.

Not earth-moving news, I know, but I thought it a mite cool

Oh, and I re-read heart-shaped face again. Damn I need therapy

My Official Harry Potter & The Deathly hallows Review

2007-07-22T02:28:00.000+01:00

I started reading this book under a funk. The sheer amount of crap that had been leaked onto the internet this week was depressing. it wasn't that the book itself was being leaked, it was the futility of the leaking. I mean, what were these people trying to do? Curb the amount of money the publishers were gleaning from the books? Doubtful.

No, it was willy-battles in the showers all over again. The 'I've read it before you - ner-ner-ne-ner-ner' mentality that just proves that there really are sadder fucks out there than die-hard HP fans as myself

About 2 days after the last book came out t-shirt companies were printing 'Snape Kills Dumbledore' t-shirts, professing that they'd saved readers from wasting a few days of their lives reading the latest HP book. So, what? You want the readers to save the £6 from the book and spend that £6 on your poorly designed t-shirt? It's not the conclusion, it's the journey. there were videos on the web of fuckwits driving past barnes & Nobles shouting "SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE" and laughing like gibbons at the upset faces they left behind. But what they didn't capture on their crappy £100 camcorders is the fact that everyone they told still went into the store and bought the book anyway. Simply hearing someone shouting out a possible ending isn't enough to want us to know how that possible ending came about.

I knew how this one ended. I saw the last 3 words. I still wanted to experience the journey that led to those words.

And I'm glad the funk lifted. the first thing that starts to drag about this book is that there's no real Hogwarts, not in the regular sense. It's in the book, and forms the basis for the book's excellent climax, but Harry doesn't spend a second of him time there in studies. It appears that his oath at the end of HBP held fast.

Harry is in search of the Horcruxes, the fragments of Voldemort's soul that, if left unchecked, would mean that Voldemort can return to life many times over. On his journey to find the horcruxes, Harry becomes distracted by another quest, that of the Deathly Hallows, 3 items linked by a simple symbol, apparently able to render their holder invinvible. It's possible that Voldemort had learned of the deathly hallows, but in his greed to find the hallows, has he left his Horcruxes unguarded?

There are times when it dragged, and I honestly feared for the pace of the book, as well as for the well-being of some of the characters, but after the necessary lull in the action (JK does love her exposition) the action started up again and just.didn't stop.

Some rumours were true, some were laughably pathetic. One was engageingly enigmatic, which means William Hill is going to have a perplexing time handing out payments.

9.5/10

My Final rating;

DH
GoF
OotP
HBP
PoA
CoS
PS(SS)

Damn, my boy rocks

2007-07-14T20:46:00.000+01:00

Took the young'un to the kent show yesterday. It's an annual thing held at the County Showground at Detling every year. It claims to be a showcase of local produce and enterprise but depending on where you go, it can resemble a boot-fair with a £16 entry fee in places.

Still, there's loads to see and do, Titan the Robot makes regular appearances, even if his act hasn't changed in 4 years. (don't bother with the Lab4 vid), plus there's dog displays, hawking displays,, fly-fishing displays, and the toffs from the countryside alliance sit in their canvas chairs sipping sherry and bleating on about how the ban on fox-hunting came about because Parliament is biased against them as they have money. can't have the poor oiks joining in on the hunt now, can we?

Anyhoo, we were thinking of making our way to the exit when we passed the Duke of Edinburgh stand, which while promoting youth ventures, had one of those climbing walls you see in pre-vandalism youth centres. Saw a couple of guys having a go, and then this young kid had a go, must have been 4 years old. Didn't seem too au fait with the whole experience, and started crying about a foot off the ground. While we were watching him get unbuckled, I looked over and Luke was positively chomping at the bit to get over the barrier to have a go. The instructors saw this and asked him if he wanted a go, we said that he's only 2, but they simply said they'd get him strapped up and they'd let him hang on the rope for a while. Sounded like a laugh, so Lukey stood there while they got him all harnessed up

So they put a helmet on him and he RAN at the wall. With a bit of help he was well off..

Had to get a video of it too.

The female instructor asked us twice if we were sure he was only 2, she'd been doing it for 5 years and she'd never seen enthusiasm like it. I don't mean to brag or anything, but damn.

The Big Top

2007-06-17T15:28:00.000+01:00

Props to my good friend Ant for supplying me with the four nouns: Clown. Pelvis. Splinter. Ditch

The conversation had reached a standstill, again, and Mick drove along the country lane in silence. His wife, Alice, sat in the passenger seat and gazed out of the window. Pretty pointless, as it was pitch black and there weren’t any street lights out there. The radio had finally packed up, which had been a long time coming. He’d meant to get it replaced but it one of those things on his ‘to do’ list that he’d just never gotten around ‘to doing‘.

“Umm.. Clear night…” desperate attempt at chit-chat. She looked fleetingly forward.

“Mm”

Wow, didn’t even attempt to continue that, mind you, it was pretty lame. He turned the radio on again. Still nothing but static.

“Bloody thing, Just wish I had a tape or something…”

“Wasn’t there one in the back of the seat? In the pocket thing?”

“Yeah, but I think it’s Meatloaf”

“Better than sitting here in silence”. Jeez, turn the knife, will ya?

“Look, I’m sorry about the party. I just happen to believe in speaking my mind”

“Yeah, that’s noble, but not when you call the host’s wife’s dress something that resembles an art-deco marquee” That raised a smile for them both.

“Where did you say that tape was?”

“Um… in the back of your seat, I think, here, let me have a look” She stretched back and through the gap in the seats to try to reach the pocket, as she did so, Mike glanced at his wife’s chest. The stretching had caused her blouse to gape and he caught a sneaky look at her bra-clad breasts. He smiled to himself, but the moment vanished as he realised he was resorting to catching pervy glimpses of his own wife. She sat back down.

“Nope, can’t feel it in there, might be in this seat… you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, here, lemme have a look” He stretched over, his hand on the wheel wobbling as he tried to keep the car in a straight line.

“Why don’t you pull over?” She watched the road intently, her hand hovering near the wheel, ready to take over should the car swerve.

“No, it’s ok, I’ve nearly got the tape… Oh Shit!!!” He’d returned his gaze to the road, just in time to see the deer in the road ahead. He slammed on the brakes, the tyres screeching and smoking, but he was still hurtling towards the startled animal. He yanked the wheel to the left, missing the deer by inches, but the car was heading off the road, and ended up at an angle in the ditch that ran alongside it.

“Oh shit, shit. Are you ok honey?” Alice turned to him, her face a mixture of shock and anger.

“Yes, I think I’m fine, no thanks to you. I told you to pull over, didn’t I?”

“Yes, yes, but that doesn’t help us now, does it?” He fumbled in his pockets for his mobile phone. “Crap. No signal. What about yours?”

“We’re on the same network” Said Alice grudgingly. “I told you we should be on different ones, just in case” Mike threw his hands up in the air.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, it’s always a bloody argument with you, isn’t it? Look, there’s some lights over there through those trees, I’ll walk over and see if there’s a phone I can borrow. Anything wrong with that?” Alice sat squarely in her seat and started jabbing at her phone.

“What are you doing? There’s no signal.”

“I’m going to play my sudoku game, actually, to pass the time while you go off hiking.”

He slammed the door and marched off into the woods by the road. After 20 feet he realised it might not have been such a good idea, the ground was very uneven and seemed to be mainly marshland, the bottoms of his trouser legs were sodden as he stumbled on towards the distant lights. Eventually, he came to a clearing, but there wasn’t a house, it was a circus tent, grey and derelict. No vehicles in sight, but a string of light-bulbs around the edge of the canvas roof were still lit.

“Hello?” he walked towards the tent, which was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence, about waist height. He took off his jacket and draped it over the fence. Using one of the wooden posts as leverage, he vaulted over the top of the fence, but winced in pain as a huge splinter imbedded itself into his hand. “Ah shit. Ow.” He tried to remove the splinter, but it was in the pad near his thumb quite deep, and there wasn’t a lot proud of the surface. It stung like mad, and he shook his hand as he continued walking towards the tent.

“Hello?” Still no answer. He walked around the full circumference of the tent, searching for a way in, his soaked trousers clinging to his skin, freezing in the cold night air. Suddenly, he stopped. He’d just realised how quiet it was. There were no other houses or buildings around, which meant no power, so the lights would have to be powered by a generator, but he couldn’t hear one running. At last, he could see an opening in the canvas curtain. Peering in, it was almost pitch-black. He could make out the rows and rows of seats, and the sawdust covered ring they surrounded. His hand gave a sharp throb, the splinter reminding him of it’s presence. He reached the centre of the ring, on a large, darker patch of sawdust.

“Hello? Is there anyone there? I’ve come off the road and I need to borrow a phone..”

Without warning, the centre of the ring was flooded in a bright light, and jaunty calliope music blared from all around him. He could hear laughter, and screams of delight. He shielded his eyes from the light and once he’d regained his focus, he could see faces, hundreds of faces in the seats around the ring. Women, children, fathers. Balloons, flags. All were laughing heartily in his direction, the children pointing at him.

A honking noise came from his left, he spun around and a clown car wobbled towards him on comically warped wheels, which came away from the car as it stopped. The door fell off and a tall, angular man in a clown’s outfit unfolded himself from the car, to increased laughter. Mike looked at him in confused horror

“How? Who..?” But the clown smiled at him.

“Got me a volunteer already” he confided to him in an aside. “Don’t worry old chap, you’re perfectly safe with me, just follow my lead”

“Look, I’m sorry, I don’t know…” But the clown failed to hear his protests as he proceeded to unfurl a long string of knotted hankies from Mike’s trousers, over-emphasising his facial expressions, Mike had to admit, it was actually rather amusing. Maybe it was all a big gag, turning the lights on like that. His face must have been a picture!

Alice’s phone bleeped with such suddenness she physically jumped in her seat. It was a text from Jackie, the marquee-wearing woman who’s party she’d just left. Alice closed down her sudoku game (only 5 numbers left) and read the text. Jackie’s message was short and abrupt, but she cared enough to make sure her friend had got home safe. Alice sent her a swift text back, with a short apology regarding her husband’s comments, and called the AA. They said they’d be there within the hour, given the time and the remoteness of their location. Alice ended the call and peered out of the window. It was still pitch black, but the lights in the distance were still there, and seemed brighter. She got out of the car and called for Mike. There was no answer, but she could now hear faint music coming from the area of the lights. She retrieved her spare car keys from her handbag, locked the car and slowly started making her way towards the clearing.

Mike and his clown companion seemed to be going down a storm. They’d done the bucket-full-of-paper gag, twice, the third bucket, which, of course, actually contained water, ended up over the ringmaster, to howling laughter from the audience. Mike had done a mime artist bit, which went down ok, and the clown had done some juggling and knife-throwing. The music suddenly quietened and the Clown comically walked over to him.

“Right, up we go then” he whispered and walked off to a ladder by one of the main supports. Blankly, Mike followed him, cautious applause coming from the crowd. At the top of the ladder, the clown fastened a safety line to Mike’s belt. “Trust me” he smiled through his garish greasepaint. Opening a small comedy umbrella, the clown proceeded out onto a high-wire suspended between the two support. He was certainly milking it, wobbling in all the right places, accompanied by increased drum-rolls from the band below. All very entertaining but he obviously had some skills. He eventually reached the other side with a flourish of his arms and a crescendo from the band. He waved at Mike to cross the wire, the audience cheering him on. “Oh well, here goes nothing”.

Alice was now severely pissed off. She was soaked, her new shoes were ruined, and to cap it all, there seemed to be a circus, in full swing, going on ahead of her. She hated circuses, ever since childhood. Something about the clowns just freaked her out.

“If he’s in there watching this shit, I’m going to…” but as she reached the fence, she stopped. The Music had stopped. The light from inside had gone, just the lights around the edge were still lit. She looked at Mike’s coat, draped over the fence. There was no way she was climbing over that in this skirt. She set off to her right, to see if there was a gap in the fence. Eventually she came across a huge sign, but couldn’t make it out. She got out her phone, and shone the light from the screen at the sign. In big, brash letters it advertised the Scolleri
Circus, with pictures of tigers, horses, clowns, all the usual. She noted that the dates were all in January, but looking at the tent in the dim moonlight, it looked like it had been sitting there for way over 5 months. Looking back at the sign, there was a huge banner across the poster, claiming the shows had been cancelled due to unforeseen circumstances. She carried on along the fence, and came to a gap in the wires, the fencing just looked like it had rusted away.

Straining her eyes and ears, she could still make out some faint music, but it sounded like it was being sung, rather than played, and she rushed towards the entrance in the side of the tent.

Mike was halfway across the wire, this was easy! He steadied his feet and did a few comedy wobbles, over-swinging his arms to regain his balance. The clown on the platform opposite laughed heartily at his actions and applauded him. He was feeling great, maybe he should quit his job and run away with the circus. Run away from Alice. He looked down and saw her standing just inside the entrance. She was looking straight at him with sheer terror on her face.

“Mike! What the fuck are you doing??” What WAS he doing? Walking across a wire at the top of a pitch-black circus, singing that bloody song at the top of his voice. “Mike! Why are you up there? You’re gonna fall!”

The Music was getting louder, the audience cheering his every step, his confidence was building. The clown still applauded his act, but had started beckoning him to the safety of the platform. Mike’s bravado was peaking. He was gonna try something, he’d seen it on the TV, but he was sure he could pull it off. As long as he kept his balance, he reckoned he could do that back-somersault.

Alice was frantic. “Mike, I’ve called the AA! I got a signal on my phone, they’re on their way, can you come down please? Please??”

“Hey, the audience are loving this, I’m gonna do one last trick!” He yelled down to her.

“WHAT AUDIENCE??”

The lights faded, the crowd disappeared, but the clown stayed, applauding him with silent clapping. He looked at his feet. He was standing on a wire. Holy shit. He was standing on a wire in slick-soled shoes.

“Mike! Come down!” Alice was clutching her hands to her chest, tears streaming down her face.
“Alice! How did I get up here? Wait.. Wha…?” His feet slipped from the wire, Alice screamed, but Mike caught the wire with his hands, the frayed metal piercing his palms, but he gritted his teeth and held his grip. Looking down, he was sure if he dropped, he’d probably break something, possibly shatter his pelvis. Looking at the platform to his left, he could still see the clown, still clapping silently, but he was looking at where Mike had been when he was standing on the wire. His actions were repetitive, not natural, but then, what was natural about this place? Gritting his teeth in determination, he shuffled his hands along the wire, slowly moving towards the opposite platform, Alice below shouting up encouragement. With about a foot to go, the splinter in his hand gave an almighty throb, causing him to let go with that hand, at the same time, the lights returned, as did the music and the audience, all cheering and clapping. Alice looked around at them in horror.

“Where did these… What’s going on Mike?”

“I’m a bit busy Honey, gimme a sec, will ya” With a last surge of effort, he reached up with the splinter-infected hand and grabbed the platform. He hauled himself up and held onto the pole, panting in exhaustion. He looked back at the other platform. The clown was looking directly at him, smiling. He gave him a few claps, removed his hat and bowed. Mike could see there was a rather flat surface where the back of his head should have been. He stood up, replaced his hat, and vanished, along with the audience, lights and music.

Mike reached the bottom of the ladder with some difficulty, as the palms of his hands were pretty sliced up from the wire. He looked st the splinter, which was now standing proud of the surface. He bit the end with his teeth and yanked it out of his hand. It didn’t hurt at all, which surprised him, as it was a big one. Alice rushed towards him and held him in a tight embrace. Holding him for support, she led him out of the tent, and out towards the fence. The sun was coming up now, and the area was quite well lit. the lights around the edge of the tent were not just out, but gone.

“What happened here, Mike?” Alice’s face was ashen. Mike shook his head, he couldn’t even begin to explain what he’d seen, but as he looked up, he could see the fence surrounding the circus tent was threaded with blue-and-white police tape. It was the kind with ‘crime-scene - do not cross’ written on it, but it looked eroded and aged.

In the emerging daylight, they could see a clear path through the trees leading to the road, coming out not 100 yards in front of their car, where they could also see the amber flashing lights of the AA van as it arrived.

In silence, they held each other as they walked through the gap in the fence, past the large sign advertising the dates of the circus shows. A gust of wind blew the edge of the cancellation notice aside;

Showdates: 17th January - 25th January. 1986.

Copyright Peter Morris-Kelso. All characters and events are fictitious, no connection to any person, living or dead is implied nor should it be inferred.

Just testing the ol' powers

2007-05-03T17:53:00.000+01:00

never really had a chance to muck around with Window Movie Maker, but since I managed to get the correct lead for the bloody camcorder, it's like a whole new world of possibilities has opened for me.. or some such bollocks...

Not too fucking sure about this

2007-04-26T22:03:00.000+01:00

Recently had to re-install my whole system due to some shitty spy/adware, and only just remembered my poor widdle bwog. So I try to sign in, only to be told I HAVE to sign up for a google account. Not against it in principle, but I don't really like signing up for shit unless I want to. The fact is, this blog, while being run by Blogger, contains my stuff.

It's a little like extortion. You can't get access to your intellectual property unless you sign up for meaningless tat in your inbox on a daily basis. I'll see how it goes.

And 'dashboard'? Puh-leese. And I'm not using that label shit either, If I wanted a myspace page i'd fucking sign up for one.

POTC:AWE

2007-03-20T10:09:00.000Z

Bonker acronym, I know, but here's the rather stunning trailer for the final Pirates of the carribean movie. I didn't rate the second one much, but they went along the same lines as the second matrix movie, it's a, interstitial movie rather than a complete tale.

One of the great aspects of the first movie was the exemplary swordplay, something that was missing, IMHO, from the second (The three-way sword fight was messy). What we needed was the spectacle of the Sparrow/Barbosa battle in the moonlit cave. It looks like we're gonna get more of this with Sparrow/Jones.

And I think I'll actually bother going to the flicks for this one, shock horror.

Youtube rocks.

2007-02-22T21:15:00.000Z

excuse the corporate suck-up title. But for ages I've been searching for various clips that I'm sure that I may or may not have seen many, many years ago. I'm a great nostalgia freak (check my post on retro-gaming) so just to watch little snippets is enough to satisfy me anough. For example, I'll hapilly watch the opening credits of Metal Mickey, but i'll be damned if I'm gonna watch a whole episode

See what I mean? Boogie boogie indeed.

It's also a great resourse if you want to relate an experience to someone. A few years ago we went to Universal Studios Spain, where there was a walkthrough ride called templo del Fuego. At the time I didn't have my video camera, and trying to describe it to friends was a chore, and actually took about 10 times as long to relate...

No longer...

Seriously, who cares?

2007-02-21T22:39:00.000Z

I'm an avid Fark Lurker, and one of its tenets is to expose the hypocrisy of the tabloid media. However, in doing so, it's ironically becoming the thing it's trying to ridicule.

I refer, of course, to the shenanigans of the baldie in the post below. Every 10th post is 'Britney checks into rehab', then 'Britney checks out of Rehab', then 'Britney tells everyone she shaved her head off because she had lice'.

I don't care anymore. The girl hasn't done anything creative for about 4 years, and as such, neither deserves or needs the constant barrage of attention she's been getting.

Yes, yes, I'm aware of the irony of posting an entry about Britters to decry posts in general about britney.

Maybe if she stopped going on the lash with her flange hanging out, maybe the paps would stop shoving telephoto lenses up there.

That is all

actually, one more thing. I've had to delete a minor post below because some dickless, sad, paedophile, no-life spamming fuck with herpes bookmarked that entry's comments page.

Poor, poor little rich girls

2007-02-17T11:17:00.000Z

Anna Nicole smith's dead. britney lost it, shaved her head and checked into rehab. boo-fucking-hoo

These women have got more money than the likes of us mere mortal will ever see in several lifetimes, and all they've done is piss it away. Moreso with Anna.

It's sad that she died, yes, but she was one seriously fucked-up induvidual who shouldn't have left alone with anything that could lead to a financial transaction of any kind. In her will she's left everything to her son, Daniel. Oh crap, didn't he die just after her baby was born? Oh well, let's just hope that she didn't put a clause in her will that expressly forbade her money from going to any other member of her family, least of all her 5-month old baby.

She did? Not even the 15 men who are lining up for a DNA test to prove they're the actual father of her child, and not her most recent husband who wasn't an oil billionaire?

All anna-nicole did was fuck, party, then die, screwing up the lives of those she left behind.

She stood up in court and admitted she couildn't even make toast. I'm not glad she's dead, but she was just a waste of a life.

Then there's boor Britters.

Actually, I'm not going to bother. Just look at the picture, that should tell you pretty much what you need to know.

I'm dyin' here...

2007-02-16T21:53:00.000Z

Seriously, this void of inactivity is slightly annoying. I should be wrking on the screenplay but I. Just. Can't. get. Fucking. Started. Parental responsibilities will impede me tomorrow as the better Half is off to work. Star wars will babysit for a while, but I still need to pay attention (apparently)

(I kid).

I'm not gonna make any promises about writing soon or all that bollocks. I want to, it's just tricky right now.

Been a tit

2007-01-12T20:49:00.000Z

Just want to apologise to anyone I pissed off or upset a few months ago. I was in a bad place myself and I vented my spleen, making half-baked statements without being in full posession of the facts.

I might have changed names, but that was a bit pathetic, really. Hopefully, the time I spent away in November/December has chilled me out enough to stop me being a selfish, inconsiderate prick again.

Sorry

Moving Rooms

2006-12-31T00:46:00.000Z

My dear, dear Friend Mike, who I've known for many years, and would quite readily allow to use the toilet before me (Mostly true) has moved sites.

Normally, I wouldn't kick up a fuss about such a thing, but as Mike is, quite frankly, the only person who I would trust to, and is the only person who has, published and edited my work, I feel I owe him a duty to point you in his direction.

Oh crap, this means some more html editing. Joy.

http://www.darkenedroom.net/journal/

Go there. Now.

Spoiling it for everyone

2006-12-22T14:28:00.000Z

I suppose it's normally a curse of notoriety, but somehow my tiny little blog has been noticed by the sad no-penised fuckwits that can't even breathe without trying to sell you phentramine or phenylannine or some such shit.

Cos of this I'm gonna have to start moderating comments. If you've posted on Mike's you'll know what it means, but I won't be activating the gestapo-style hard-to-read letter entry field.

('J's' always look like 'i's', it's annoying)

No, really, I've got a good reason this time

2006-12-21T22:38:00.000Z

Really, we had a november holiday (nice little cruise) and since we got back we've been decorating (Wallpaper and xmas - first one, then t'other). Once the joyous restivities are over, I'm sure I'll start writing some heavy shit again.

Promise

Pinochet's Dead

2006-12-11T00:00:00.000Z

I hope the fucker rots

thanks for listening

Cliched nautical heading here..

2006-11-25T21:46:00.000Z

...Couldn't bring myself to write anything that included the word 'sailing'...

Aneyhoo, off on a cruise for a week and a half, so I'll be net-inaccessible until the 7th (unless I find a cyber-cafe in Casablanca), but it also means I'll be without access to a word processor of any kind, so it'll be back to pen & paper.

Weird, but as I've got faster at typing, i've found the flow of ideas as each story develops seems to be running at the same wpm. Wether or not having to actually write stuff down improves my story-telling, will remain to be seen.

Knowing my luck, i'll just end up with 5 crap stories and writer's cramp.

Heart-Shaped Face

2006-11-19T13:40:00.000Z

Thanks to Jammie for the words that got this one started

Heart-shaped face, Lift, Skeleton key, Parcel

“Look, I’ll be back in the evening, ok?” Luke held his wife reassuringly by the shoulders, then drew her into a comforting hug. “Look at it this way, you’ll have plenty of time to get familiar with the place; assign rooms, that kinda thing”.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just so… I dunno.. Big” Luke rolled his eyes.

“And you’re the one who always wanted a bigger kitchen” Rachel gave him a look.

“The kitchen in this place could cater for a fucking hotel, Luke” He smiled and hugged her again, kissed her heavily and set off down the path to his shiny new car.

“At least you can’t say the freezer isn’t big enough anymore”. He opened the door and threw his briefcase into the passenger seat.

“That ’Freezer’ is bigger than our old bedroom”. The engine burst into life with a throaty rumble as her husband smiled and waved genially as he crunched the gears into place and kangaroo-hopped out of the driveway.

‘At least he didn’t pay for the bloody thing’ Rachel mused as the sun glinted off the silver prancing horse on the back of the car as it turned the corner and out of sight. She could still hear it as she glanced over at her much more sensible Beetle in the driveway. Maybe the full package, including in-car DVD player and personalised number plates was a bit much, but at least she wasn’t paying.

She closed the heavy oak door and turned to the hallway. She couldn’t stop the grin possessing her face and the exultant scream that followed. In 3 short weeks, her husband had been head-hunted and promoted beyond their wildest dreams, and shortly relocated this this Fucking HUGE house in the middle of the Oxfordshire countryside.

The estate agent had shown them round, but the sheer size of the place was all they needed to say yes. The eager young agent had stammered over his pre-prepared speech, but she’d bought the place with the company’s money the second the limo crunched over gravel through the automatic gates. All she’d been used to before this was a council flat in a shitty area, part of the many sacrifices they’d made (she more than he) to fund Luke’s ambitions. Her patience had been running thin, but it was working. His slow steps up the executive ladder was giving them a comfortable life, they’d even started going out again.

She picked up the elaborately designed folder containing all the information on the house from the table by the door, along with her coffee and strolled into her spacious kitchen. It really could have catered for a hotel, well, a small one anyway, but it was still bigger than your nearest Starbucks, deep blue-tiled walls, stainless steel tables and a walk-in freezer that was indeed larger than her old bedroom. It was absolutely barren at the moment, but the company had told them that they had a blank cheque to furbish the house, so she should have it up and running in about.. Ooh, a month. She set the folder down on the bare central food preparation table and started to read.

“So, how’s the house?” Rick was smiling that smile again. All teeth, no content. Luke returned it.

“Oh, it’s fantastic, Rachel absolutely loves it” He shook Rick’s proffered hand, feeling the intentionally domineering grip and totally bone dry palm as it gently crunched his knuckles.

“Good-good, good to hear it” Luke hated that expression. He’d only heard it from people with nothing on their minds but their own self-promotion. He’d used it himself once and hated himself for doing so. “Your office is just along here, it’s got everything you’ll need to fulfil your position, and if you need anything, Hillary here will be at your beck and call“. A middle-aged, stern looking woman with her blonde hair in a tight bun looked up at him, acknowledged his existence without smiling and returned to her monitor.

Rick walked him into the office, it took Luke a second before he realised what he was looking at.

“We’ve completely duplicated your old office, it helps our new guys start work faster if they know where everything is”. He wasn’t kidding either, everything, from the positioning of the waste-paper basket (just the right distance for a well-aimed apple core or bullshit memo) to the framed inspirational posters that he never actually liked anyway. Ok, I’ll give you about an hour to get settled, then I’ll come back to see how you’re doing, ok dude?” He gave a hearty thumbs-up, which Luke returned, his insides cringing. Left alone, Luke looked around his familiar relocated office space. He hated the last job, so bringing everything that reminded him of it didn’t fill him with a sense of optimism.

“Ok mum, love you. Bye!” She’d had to call and tell her mother as much as she could about the house. She’d invited her over for dinner next week, should be enough time to get the kitchen up and running at least. Rachel pocketed her mobile and flicked through the folder as she travelled through the house

‘The master bedroom, approximately 400 square feet of floor space, with high walls and faux-baroque stylings throughout’. . Every room was carpeted & curtained, but lacked furniture. Smiling, she closed the door behind her and headed down the hallway towards the master bathroom. Passing a door on her left, she tried the handle, it was locked. Weird, she thought. Flicking through the folder, she found the floor plans. The door wasn’t on it, it just showed the last room she’d been in and the master bathroom directly beside it. ‘Must be a cupboard’, although she couldn’t help but think it was a little strange that the plans for a 100-year old house would miss something like a cupboard. Walking into the bathroom she looked into the corner of the room where the door was, and sure enough, there were 2 extra walls in the corner, indicating the cupboard space behind. The bathroom itself was fully fitted, with a legged bath in the middle of the tiled floor. It was huge, more than enough room for 2 people. She’d have to get some candles, she thought with a smirk. Still the fact the cupboard was locked irked her a little, and she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, searching through the contact lists for the estate agent’s number.

“Hi, it’s Rachel Anderson here, yes hello. Look, I’ve just had a look around the house and I’ve found a door that seems to be locked… no, it’s lovely, it’s wonderful, really. Yes, it seems to be a cupboard on the second floor… Where? Ok, hang on.” She trotted down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Which drawer? By the sink…” She opened the drawer and found a small silver key. “Yes, I’ve got it, thanks Harry.” She pressed a few keys on her phone and placed it on the table. She looked at the key, it looked new, and had a small engraving of a skull on one side. Creepy, but apt for a skeleton key, she supposed.

She returned to the upper floor and headed to the door. The key slid neatly into the lock and turned. When she opened the door, it wasn’t a cupboard behind it, but brightly lit, ornate panelling on the walls. She stepped inside and turned. Beside the door were 2 buttons, the top one was lit.

“It’s a lift!” She racked her brains to try and remember if the space taken up by a lift shaft had taken up any floor space below, as it had done in the bathroom. Nope, she couldn’t remember, and was just about to walk out of the lift when the outer door closed abruptly. As she jumped back in shock another internal door slid into place and the lift shuddered. The other button lit with a ‘ding’ and the lift slowly started to descend. In the kitchen, her mobile started to vibrate wildly as it blasted out a polyphonic version of ‘Money, Money, Money’ by Abba..

“Luke! How are you settling in?” Rick entered the room, closely followed by another inanely-grinning suited colleague. “This is Chad, hope you don’t mind his sitting in on our little chinwag” Luke hung up the phone, he’d have to hope Rachel got his message soon.

“No, not at all” He beckoned them to sit down, even though Chad already had.

“So, Luke, let’s get down to it. We wanted you because you, individually, made your company over three million pounds last yeas”. Luke squirmed slightly.

“Yes, well, a lot of it was luck, you know. I just happened to be invited to the Sapperstein’s daughter’s wedding through a colleague and…” Rick held up a hand.

“Luke, Luke. There were several people at that wedding, but not one of them could network like you. You saw the opportunity, and you grabbed it with both hands. You’re the kind of guy we want here. I won’t lie, we’re expecting the same kind of numbers, if not more, for us. Can you deliver that, Luke?” His face was pseudo-friendly, but his tone had an element Luke didn’t like.

“Well, I can’t make any promises, like I said, those contracts were sort of a fluke, but I’ll do my best while I’m here”. Rick sat up straight, then sat back in his chair. Chad stopped looking at the picture of the Cheetah over the word ‘Ambition’ and begun to pay attention to the conversation.

“ ‘While you’re here?’ what do you mean by that, Luke?” The room had got suddenly colder.

“Well, what I meant was, I.. I’ll probably move on, eventually. It's not that I’m not grateful for all you’ve done for Rachel and me, on the contrary, the house is fantastic”. He missed the smile that flashed across Chad’s face. “But what with the generous wage you’re paying me, plus the incredible commission rates you pay, I could probably retire within the next ten years!” He smiled broadly at them, but their faces remained impassive. “I mean, you guys must be thinking along the same lines, right?”

Chad sat up.

“Did you read the contract you signed with us, Luke?” An empty pit opened in his stomach

“I.. flicked though it, I thought they were all the same?”

“Did you read the section on the non-disclosure agreement?” Chad reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a tube of rolled-up paper.

“I read some of it. I signed one at my last place, they’re pretty much the same.” Chad placed the tube on the desk, where it unfurled. Luke could see his signature at the bottom.

“Take another read. Under the non-disclosure section”. Luke took the contract and started to read.

“Yeah, it looks standard. It says as long as I’m employed by the company, I’m not allowed to divulge any internal information with outside companies”.

“No, it doesn’t”

“What? Yes it does”

“Read it to me” sweating slightly, he scanned the page again.

“‘As long as the contracted employee is within the employ of the company, neither he nor any spouse or children shall divulge any information pertaining to the company, sensitive or otherwise, to anyone outside the company, for any reason.’” He looked up. “And?” Rick sighed theatrically.

“Let’s go for a drive”.

Puzzled, Luke stood up and walked around his desk and out into the hallway. His heart pumping and his mind racing. As he walked, he could see into the other offices along the corridor, every person he saw looked thoroughly miserable, working without smiling, and every desk had a large, flat red box beside the in-trays. He swore he even heard a sob coming from one office.
“We’ll take the company limo. Give us a chance to explain things… in simple terms”. They entered the parking garage, the Limo gleaming under the fluorescent lighting. Looking to his left, he could see his Ferrari in his private parking space. Should he make a run for it? Where would he go but home? He sunk slightly and ducked his head as he sat in the plush leather seats. The other two sat down as well, facing him.

“Well, Luke. It looks like there’s several things about this company you should be made aware of. We brought you in for your sales prowess, but do you know what the company actually does?”

Luke thought hard. “It’s medical research and private healthcare”. Chad grinned.

“And you never thought that was a strange combination? Sounds innocent enough, I know, but think about it…”

The Limo crunched over the gravel in the drive and stopped outside the front door. The driver opened his door and Luke exited slowly. He was pale, having vomited twice. They’d told him far more than he’d wanted to know, and he had no idea what awaited him as he opened his heavy oak door.

He stood in the door frame.

“Rachel?” He looked down to a large flat, red parcel on the table beside the door. Looking up to the sound of shuffling feet, he saw his wife walking out of the kitchen, her long red hair covering her face. “Rachel?” His wife raised her head, there was no face, just a flat covering of skin on the front of her head. There was a piece of equipment attached to her neck which made hoarse breathing sounds. Paralyzed by horror, he came to his senses when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“She’s fine, don’t worry. Unfortunately, she broke the terms of your contract not long after you left the house this morning. Had a revealing conversation with her mother, told her where the house was, how much money you’re earning. Even invited her Mother over for dinner. We can’t have that, not when national security’s at stake”. Luke felt like vomiting again.

“But her face… why?” Chad patted him on his other shoulder.

“One thing we’ve learned in our 50-year history, is that once a woman starts talking, it’s a hard habit to break.”

“But she’s never read my contract, how the fuck was she supposed to know what not to do?”

“And whos fault is that?” He smiled that fucking smile again. Look, she’s fine. She can still see, kind of. She’ll need protein injections once a day, which the company will provide free of charge, but she’ll be a willing housewife, cooking, cleaning… servicing… everything a good wife should be”.

“But her face….” tears were streaming down his face.

“Oh, yeah. Here you go…” He casually tossed the red parcel to him. Gingerly he opened it. There, attached to small pieces of machinery and several blood-filled tubes, was his wife’s heart-shaped face. Her eyes darting from side to side in horror until they fell on her husband’s face. Her mouth moved quickly and silently as Luke sank to his knees. Chad crouched down beside him and looked at the terrified face in the box with a sickeningly kind smile.

“Funny, they all try to talk, you know.” He stood up. Rachel was now standing beside her husband, showing no sign she knew he was there. “Well, we’ll be off, we’ll have your car brought over. Wouldn’t have gone with yellow myself, but there you go, each to their own.” They both started to leave, Rick stopped and turned to him.

“Have a 4-day weekend, Luke, I think you’ll need some time to get adjusted. But hey, look on the bright side, now you can bring your wife to work. Everyone else does.”

Non-Specific plaugeurism

2006-11-13T20:37:00.000Z

Yes, i know that's spelt wrong. Anyhoo, took this from Mike's, who in turn nicked it from Chris'

DO YOU SNORE? Apparently, yes. I have been known to wake myself up

ARE YOU A LOVER OR A FIGHTER?A lover, never been in a fight

WHAT’S YOUR WORST FEAR? Losing my loves

AS A KID, WERE YOU A LEGO MANIAC? Absolutely. I was a whiz, I once made a spaceship that was actually 20 ships all joined together. It rocked. Only you couldn't pick it up or it would fall apart.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF “REALITY” TV? Pointless voyeurism that foists useless morons on the world, who in turn are lapped up by their ilk

DO YOU CHEW ON YOUR STRAWS? Can't says I do

WERE YOU A CUTE BABY? If my son is anything to go by, then I was GORGEOUS

IS THE SINGLE LIFE FOR YOU? Was, till I met the person who ended all that nonsense

WHAT COLOR IS YOUR KEYBOARD?Black.

DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER? I don't sing. Court order.

HAVE YOU EVER BUNGEE JUMPED? Seen wayyyy too many wacky home videos to even contemplate the idea

ANY SECRET TALENTS? Now, if I told you, they wouldn't be secret...

WHAT’S YOUR IDEAL VACATION SPOT? Anywhere but here

CAN YOU SWIM? In bursts

HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE DONNIE DARKO? Yup, and it was the lager that made me cry at the fat chick dancing

DO YOU GIVE A DAMN ABOUT THE OZONE? I've been told I have to

HOW MANY LICKS DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO THE CENTER OF A TOOTSIE POP? Wouldn't know, first time I tasted one I nearly threw up

CAN YOU SING THE ALPHABET BACKWARDS? Nope, but I can say it backwards in less than 3 seconds

DO YOU PREFER ELECTRIC OR MANUAL PENCIL SHARPENER? Pencils?

WHAT’S YOUR STAND ON HUNTING? I'd like to stand on the necks of anyone who kills ANYTHING for 'sport', not necessity

IS MARRIAGE IN YOUR FUTURE? In the past, actually

DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING? Certainly do, I seem to be only one who can read it...

WHAT ARE YOU ALLERGIC TO? Radion Automatic

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU SAID, “I LOVE YOU” ? Just now, actually

DO YOU CRY AT WEDDINGS? Nope. Not even my own.

HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS? Unfertilised, thanks.... Har-de-har. But as you're asking. In an omlette with cheese & Frankfurters

ARE BLONDES DUMB? Depends on the blonde. I've met some pretty thick brunettes in my time

WHERE DOES THE OTHER SOCK END UP? Eaten by the laundromat monster

WHAT TIME IS IT? 20:50

DO YOU HAVE A NICKNAME? Yup, and sadly enough, it's self-imposed.

IS MCDONALD’S DISGUSTING? In every way

WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WERE IN A CAR? 17:15

DO YOU PREFER BATHS OR SHOWERS? Baths.

IS SANTA CLAUS REAL? As real as you want him to be

DO YOU LIKE TO HAVE YOUR NECK KISSED? ummmm... no

ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE DARK? Used to be. mainly because of a terrorizing older brother

WHAT ARE YOU ADDICTED TO? Peanut Butter Kit-Kat Chunkies

CRUNCHY OR CREAMY PEANUT BUTTER? Crunchy.

CAN YOU CRACK YOUR NECK? Sometimes, but I have to crack my thumbs when I get up in the morning. And the tip of my right middle finger. And my right ankle cracks incredibly loudly whenever I take my foot off the gas

HAVE YOU EVER RIDDEN IN AN AMBULANCE? No. actually

IS DRUG FREE THE WAY TO BE? I've inhaled in the past. can't say it changed my life in any way.

ARE YOU A HEAVY SLEEPER? Used to be. i once slept through a patio window being put into the wall directly below my bedroom

WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR EYES? Green with brown bits

DO YOU LIKE YOUR LIFE? Some more cash would be nice, but I'm good.

ARE YOU PSYCHIC? Not specifically, but I've had moments

HAVE YOU READ CATCHER IN THE RYE? Nope

DO YOU PLAY ANY INSTRUMENTS? Steering Wheel Bongoes

HAVE YOU EVER STOLEN MONEY? 10p, when I was 8

CAN YOU SNOWBOARD? No idea, the opportunity hasn't arisen

DO YOU LIKE CAMPING? I love being outdoors, but as long as I'm warm and dry. Haven't actually camped yet, but i have a young son and I live in the country, so It's probably on the cards at some stage

DO YOU SNORT WHEN YOU LAUGH? Depends on what caused the laugh.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN MAGIC? Real magic? No. Haven't seen a trick I didn't figure out yet

ARE DOGS A MAN’S BEST FRIEND? Depends on the dog

YOU BELIEVE IN DIVORCE? When necessary.

CAN YOU DO THE MOONWALK? Only without an audience

DO YOU MAKE A LOT OF MISTAKES? Not if I take my time

IS IT COLD OUTSIDE TODAY? Fokking freezing, and it's no fun standing on the footplate beside my crane at the top of medway hill in 40mph winds, lemme tell ya

WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE? Bourbons dunked in tea

DO YOU WEAR NAIL POLISH? Never have

HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU LIKE RIGHT NOW? These posts have a word limit right now. It would probably be easier to say who i don't like, but i'm not gonna

WHAT’S THE MOST ANNOYING TV COMMERCIAL? Was the Frosties one, but the internet rumour mill gave that one too much notoriety

DO YOU SHOP AT T K MAXX? Oh god no

FAVORITE SONG AT THE MOMENT? Hoppipolla by Sigur Ros. Old, yes, but still my current fave

In desperate need of inspiration

2006-11-05T23:17:00.000Z

You'll notice I haven't updated in a while. There's a few reasons for this, all tedious and boring to everyone that isn't me.

I've got a full head at the moment. as I was discussing with Jammie earlier, I'm not currently getting any down time with which I can let my mind wander, which is what happened with 'Bleeding'. (The actual blood-letting from the finger helped , but Mike & Jenn's inspiration to write Green Fingers got some kind of juices flowing)

So, here's the thing. In no way am I trying to start The Curve ball off my own back, but I'd like some sparks thrown my way. In the form of 4 nouns.

Just 4. Any 4 in any order, and I'll try to get a half-decent. 500-ish-word story out of it.

But, please. Make them kinda interesting. "Apple, paperclip, biscuit, Library" isn't going to make good reading.

On Hiatus

2006-10-25T21:22:00.000+01:00

Not updated in a while, I know. Truth is, creative juices are pretty much non-existant right now. Too bloody tired for one thing. Oh, and I've lost my voice, so that probably explains some of it

Jeez, I REALLY suck.

2006-08-09T22:00:00.000+01:00

Just haven't had the energy or impetus to put finger to plastic. However, my lovely baby sister got married this week.

A smaller affair than my overly-grandeuse and bloody expensive wedding. I'd have to say I had more fun at deborah's wedding than my own. Not to say mine wasn't a blast, it was just that Annie & I spent so much time making sure everyone was ok, we didn't have time for ourselves. we hardly touched the buffet, I had about 3 pints total, and to cap it all one of the hotel's staff got stabbed by one of the hoodlums that weekly congregate outside the hotel.

Deborah's wedding was much more relaxed and enjoyable, from our point of view. Lukey was with his grandparents for the evening, so we had the whole night worry-free.

I danced. A lot. I don't/can't dance, but I did, and with a small child on my shoulders to boot.

(That's me on the left)

Leigh's a cracking bloke, and I know they'll be happy together.

(Cake was nice too)

I suck

2006-07-22T13:42:00.000+01:00

Just looked at the date and it's been over a week since my last post. So to make amends... here's another one. Not necessarily a spectacular one, but a post nonetheless.

Actually had a bit of a bitch of a week, temperatures have been sailing aroun the 30's all week. Not much if you're native to equatorial climes, i know, but we're Brits, dammit, and we're not used to this kinda heat.

Naturally, the country's completely screwed. The trains have had to slow down in case the tracks have buckled (Funny, Australian trains dont have this problem) and the water companies are billing the shit out of anyone who has more than a pint of water a day.

Speaking of the fucking water companies, bless 'em. Thursday was a water-free day. came home from work and had a nice soak in the bath after a hot and sweaty day lifting heavy crap around. Unbeknownst to us, the water main down the road had burst, and the soothing radox wonderment in which I was wallowing represented 90% of the non-drinkable water supply.

So, the water runs out. No drinking water, nothing to wash up with. can't turn the washing machine or dishwasher on. So there we were. Sitting in an incredibly warm house surrounded by dirty dishes and clothes. Aromatically speaking, it wasn't the best.

Next morning everything was back to normal, apart from the flouride they put in the water making it look like each glass contained 8 soluble asprin.

And then this weekend I decided to put the fence up. A fence I'm building from scratch, mind. I've got everything I need, but the aforementioned drought means digging into the soil to make the post holes was impossible. "I know", thinks I, "I'll hire out a post hole borer from one of the many fine hiring-type establishments in this fine town". Nope. 4 hire stations and not one of the fuckers has got a borer to suit my needs.

So I've made a gate. Looks good. Just can't put it anywhere.

Thus summarises the events of my life since the last post.

Oh, I sliced the tip of my spacebar thumb open, so I hope you appreciate the agony it's caused to to write this.

Ah'm baaack

2006-07-11T16:43:00.000+01:00

so said Randy Quaid. Well at least he wasn't flying that fucking bi-plane.

Back from my Hols, to Gran canaria. I'd love to give a detailed report, but I had to take my keyboard apart before I left and now several keys are sticking. I'll take a chainsaw to it later to give a detailed account.

Surprise, surprise

2006-07-01T23:10:00.000+01:00

We're out of the world cup, and the part-time patriots are collectively throwing their toys out of their prams.

Pisses me off that everyone becomes so full of patriotic pride that they feel compelled to adorn their homes and vehicles with the St George's cross. But as soon as the 11 blokes running after the ball have blown it, the Queen can go fuck herself.

If you're gonna fly the flag, do it like the Americans do; because you're proud of your country. Not because some overpaid pretty-boys are having a kickabout

Things move quickly in showbiz...

2006-06-29T18:03:00.000+01:00

Well, it's been a bit of a bonkers couple of weeks. The responses I've received for both Green Fingers and Bleeding have been very heartwarming and encouraging. From a personal POV I'd have to say I felt writing Bleeding more satisfying, not to say GF wasn't a blast, but I just liked the main character more.

I'm not getting struck by any huge bouts of inspiration at the moment, mainly because I'm busy adapting Bleeding into a screenplay. Padding 1400-something words out to a 45-minute run time is.. tricky. Looks like it's flashback-time...

I'll keep you posted

Green Fingers - Digitally re-mastered

2006-06-25T20:44:00.000+01:00

I want to thank Mike for the opportunity, and to Jenn for the inspiration. It's been a while since words flowed this easily, and that's pretty much why I started this blog - to start writing again. I wrote this one before 'Bleeding', but didn't want to post it until Mike had posted the 500-word version.

Anyway, I've just done a small re-edit (again). Hope you like this one as much as I got a buzz out of completing a story again

GREEN FINGERS - DIRECTOR’S CUT

The car pulled up outside, its tyres crunching the gravel as it came to a stop. She just had to pull in after seeing that sign. She needed some new flowers for the entrance hall anyway, so the sign had certainly done its job and piqued her interest. As she approached the entrance doors they opened automatically. The immediate aroma of a thousand blossoming flowers hit her full in the face, inviting her in further. A handsome man wearing a leather apron appeared from a side door.

“Can I help you Madam?”

“Um.. Hi. I’m just looking for a new arrangement for the entrance hall of Grovesenor House..” He smiled, showing a little of his perfect teeth.

“Yes, I know the place, I stayed there a while back during a florist’s conference, in the Mersham suite” his slightly upper class accent was quite captivating, she brushed her hair over her ear with her left hand, she could see him looking at the absence of a ring on her fingers. ‘Oh god, I must be coming across as a terrible flirt’ she thought to herself. She’d read enough magazine articles about body language to realise she was giving off enough signals to fill a 4-page spread. She forced her hands together behind her back as they discussed various bouquets and posies. After a short while she remembered the reason she‘d been attracted to this place.

“Actually, I couldn’t help but notice the sign outside, something about a ‘Corpse Flower’? His smile faltered slightly, but returned swiftly.

“Ah, the Titan Arum” He nodded sagely. “Yes, I’ve been lucky enough to have had the privilege of cultivating one and it’s successfully beginning to bloom. We’re all very proud. Would you like to see it?

Nodding slightly, she followed him through the door he had appeared through earlier. She entered a large room filled with brushed metal tables. The ceiling contained wired glass panels, letting the natural light in, however many warm lights hung from the rafters. A short and stocky figure was busying himself in the shadows, removing small potted plants from a large table and placing them in a small shelved alcove. A small sniff alerted her back to the florist, who was beckoning her to one side. He led her to a large wooden planter, long but narrow, but contained only one large, and very pungent flower. She placed her hand to her face, covering her nose.
“Oh, God. That really stinks!” She smiled while grimacing, but noticed he didn’t cover his own nose.

“It’s a small price to pay for something so beautiful”, He picked up some secateurs and moved to the other side of the crate. “This is one of the rarest flowers on the planet, they date back to prehistoric times, you know. Normally they can take up to 20 years of cultivation before they flower, and when they do, they only bloom for 3 or 4 days”. He was gazing at the flower with an almost fatherly affection, carefully clipping and preening the plant. She scoffed slightly.

“Seems like a lot of effort for something like that” He looked up sharply

“Like what?” He looked quite stern. She faltered, even daring to take her hand from her face.

“Well… I mean.. 20 years of cultivation, to make something that doesn’t really do anything except stink like.. Well… death”. He straightened up and placed his sharp gardening shears on the moist soil beside the plant and removed his gloves.

“It makes that smell to attract carrion flies, and blow flies, who pollinate the plant. It’s quite ingenious, actually” His voice carried a note of bitterness. She was starting to feel a little embarrassed. This guy really cared for his plants. He seemed to notice her unease, and brightened up slightly. “Actually, we’ve developed a new cultivation method, and we’ve managed to reproduce several shoots, which are coming along nicely”. He walked over to another set of doors, made of flexible plastic. There was an identical set of doors just beyond. In the room she could see several more large crates, each filled with the same moist soil, each containing a small, young version of the plant that had assailed her senses earlier. The man she saw in the shadows earlier was in the room, wearing what looked like a bee-keepers suit, flies buzzing around his head. “Blowflies. Wonderful for the flowers but hell if they bite you - which they will…”

“Um.. Look.. Sorry if I offended you earlier, it’s just I’m obviously a bit 'green' when it come to flowers”. The charming smile was back

“Not to worry, I suppose I do dedicate quite a lot of my own time to these plants, we’re hoping it’ll save this place. We’re only just keeping our heads above water, but these plants will go for at least a thousand each. we’re always looking for an extra body around the place to help out, as it were”. She looked at him, was he offering her a job? Job? Oh crap! Work! She was about 20 minutes late on her lunch break, she looked at her watch. 25 minutes late.

“Oh damn. I‘m late back to work. Thanks for your time, but I think I should get some flowers and head off”. As she turned back to the doors that entered back into the main display area, she felt a sharp pain in the side of her neck. She moved to turn around but crumpled in a heap on the floor.
~
Her eyes opened. She couldn’t feel anything, no sensation of any part of her body, She tried to call out but neither her lungs, mouth nor vocal cords complied. The lights strung from beams across the ceiling shone brightly upon her, but she felt no heat. She was lying down, she could move her eyes, but not her head, she frantically looked around, but couldn’t see anything within her field of vision except the lights and glass panels in the roof.

A drop of red liquid fell onto her eye, turning the lights orange, she blinked it away. A conversational voice broke the silence.

“Hmm. looks like we need some more phycotoxin, Greg. This one’s conscious. I’ll have to find a better way of cultivating the algae later… Hand me that trowel, will you?”

What the hell was going on? Although her entire body was numb, she had the sensation that her head was moving slightly from side to side. The movement increased and her head fell to one side. Slowly she realised she was looking at a glazed cabinet, but with the brightly lit room it acted as a mirror. She could see the florist, wearing a bee-keepers suit. She looked at herself. Her clothes had been removed, but she had hessian sheets draped over her body, only her midriff exposed. The florist put down his shears and picked up a small shoot, similar to the ones she had seen earlier, god knows how long ago that was. She strained her eyes to see what he was doing when she focused on the shears. They were covered in blood. Her blood. She started to breathe heavier as he placed a gloved hand on her abdomen. Before she could comprehend what he was doing, he removed the section of skin and flesh he had cut, exposing the intestines below. She screamed without making a sound. Her eyes wide with horror as he calmly inserted the plant into her body.

Without saying a word, he calmly started throwing soil around her, until it was quite thick. He picked up his shears and swiftly sliced open her lower arms, the blood pumping freely into the soil, which quickly soaked it up.

The florist grabbed her head in both hands and moved it gently to look at her, as tears flowed from her eyes like streams.

“We’re all very proud of you, thanks for your help, we really appreciate it.”

Her head fell back down to the cabinet and she saw the many crates around her, all with shoots sprouting from them.

“we’ve developed a new cultivation method”

He lifted the sides of the crate around her, nailing the pieces into place. Smiling that charming smile, he emptied more soil over her body. Just before he completely covered her head, the last thing her fading consciousness heard was the sound of tyres on gravel outside.

“Greg, another customer…!”

Bleeding - Short Story

2006-06-22T23:33:00.000+01:00

Hope you like it

He sat in the chair, the wrist of the hand holding the gun draped over his blood-stained leg. All he could hear was sobbing and small squeals, hurriedly stifled. He supposed the sobs were either from fear of death or fear of his appearance. He stood up, leaving the soaked stool behind. He wiped the blood from his watch and squinted at the time. Fifteen minutes and nothing.

Holy fuck, they were quicker than this in the movies.

He stepped back towards the cashiers desks, the people huddled together on the floor shuffled away from his feet. He looked at the stuffed cash bags on the counter. He could take them. There were no cops yet. Nah shit, they’d catch him in a second. He kinda stood out in a crowd. He picked up a bag anyway and returned to the chair, the cushion squelched as he collapsed into it.

‘This had better fucking work’.

An hour ago he’d been sat in an alleyway, the same gun pressed against his forehead, the tension in his finger reflected in the strain in his eyes as he tried and tried again to completely fail to kill himself. He was succeeding at failing quite spectacularly. He’d tried slashing his wrists. Laid in the bath naked, sliced open his forearms and waited to die. He’d had to let the plug out before he fucked up the carpet in the bathroom. Luckily the university laid on a shrink for him to cry to. Didn’t help.

He was just fucking sick of it. Johnsonium nimium cruor they called it. If he could leave one mark on the planet it would be the name of a fucking blood disorder. It literally means ‘too much blood’. He’d been fine up until puberty, then the shit started. Nosebleeds once a week, then anal leakage. Then the ears started to bleed, eye sockets. If it was a doorway to the outside world, blood leaked from it. He offered to donate, be an everlasting supply, but the disease was in the blood.

Ed Norton once said you could drink a pint of blood before you started to get sick. Try 36 a day fuckwad. What the fuck did Chuck Palahnuik know about ingesting haemoglobin? The flipside was he was never hungry, the downside was he never knew when he was pissing or just bleeding again.

35 years old wearing a fucking diaper. They tried him with every kind of drug at the medical university with varying degrees of success. One drug levelled out the level of blood in his body, but only by thinning it out and accelerating the leaking. That was a fun day.

They’d found another drug. It was a hybrid of an experimental drug they were giving haemophiliacs. Stopped the blood a treat. But no drinking. No physical exertion. Try to keep UV exposure to a minimum. No spicy food. No sex. No life. He had his movie collection, but there’s only so many times you can watch a movie.

Then came the headaches, possibly a side effect of the drug, but the morons at the university wouldn’t own up to that. A small, dull ache he could manage. But this fucker pulsed through his cerebral cortex every time his heart pumped.

Another sob aroused his senses. He could hear tyres stopping outside, but no sirens. He turned to the cashier, cowering behind her desk.

“Did you press the emergency button?” She shook her head feverishly. He sighed in exasperation. “I’m not pissed off you with you, I just want to know if you’ve called the cops yet.” She looked at him, puzzled. He smiled at her, but the effect was probably spoiled by the blood pumping from his face. She nodded.

“Thank you”

He returned to the window and pulled aside the vertical blinds. One overweight black cop, standing by his car, looking up at the building.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Al” He pointed his gun up and behind him and fired. Screams. The cop ducked for cover behind his car. He saw him reaching for his shotgun and walkie-talkie. He smiled and turned. Everyone flinched.

“Ah, sorry about that. Look, this’ll all be over soon” The cashier peered over the desk.
“Why don’t you just take the money and go? I’ll show you the back door” A possibility? She seemed nice, invite her along…a pulse, the stabbing behind his eyeballs woke him up. He waved her to sit back down.

Minutes passed. He heard more tyres outside. Chancing a look outside, he could see blue barricades at the ends of the street. Nearly time. Should be getting the phone call soon.
The phone rang. He smiled, beckoning the cashier to answer it. She placed the receiver to her ear.

“Hello?… No, My name’s Naomi. I’m a teller here. He’s standing in the lobby… No.. no-one… he, he fired into the ceiling.” It made for interesting listening. He waved to attract her attention, as she looked at him he indicated the copious amounts of blood about his body. “He’s covered in blood… no, I think it’s his, it’s everywhere, it’s been dripping off him ever since he got here…. “ She proffered the phone to him. “They want to talk to you”.

The activity outside the window seemed to increase slightly. Sounds like the concept of someone dripping blood has got the trigger fingers itchy. Perfect.

He walked to the counter and the teller handed him the phone.

“Yup?”

“Hi, this is Dwayne Robinson of the New York Police department..” No fucking way.

“Hang on, Dwayne Robinson?” That threw him

“Um… yeah, why?”

“You ever seen Die Hard?” A pause, muffled voices through a palm-covered receiver.

“Um, no, but my lieutenant has. Yes, this is my real name, but we’re here to talk to you. Is anyone harmed?”

“Didn’t you just ask Naomi that?”

“Yes, but I’d like to hear it from you”

“Why, are you calling Naomi a fucking liar?” he smiled at her as he heard more muffled voices. Swearing helped. The pulsing continued unabated

“No, no, not at all, we just like to have all the facts before we start making decisions”

“Have you got google?

“Sorry?”

“Google, you’ve heard of it? Do you have it?” He could hear the questions being shouted.

“Uh, yes, we have it”

“Johnsonium nimium cruor - look it up, then meet me out front in 5 minutes”. He hung up.
Everyone in the bank was looking at him. Dripping, he picked up the money bag from the counter.

“Look, sorry everyone. I’m not a bad person, I just needed a way to end it” An elderly black woman looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“End what, child?”

He looked at her and chuckled, looking down at his clothes.

“It’s a long story”.

He walked to the door and peered outside. ‘Dwayne’ was standing in the street opposite the doors, flanked by at least 4 heavily armed and armoured.. SWAT guys? He hoped so.
He strode through the doors, money bag at one side, gun at the other, both leaving a thick trail of blood as he walked. The TV crews filming the blood-caked man walking down the steps. Dwayne looked exactly like his namesake. Tweed suit, slight quiff.

“How are you doing Nathan?”

“You found me then?”

“Over two-hundred thousand hits, yeah, we found you. What is it you want?”

This was it. The glib one-liner, the blaze of glory, and the crews were there to capture it all.

“I want it to end..”

He raised the gun quickly.

This work is copyright 2006 Peter Morris-Kelso. All characters and incidents are fictional.

It's coming.. honestly

2006-06-19T06:44:00.000+01:00

I do have some updates coming, I promise. I'm just a little tied up right now with half my family catching Gastro-Enteritis from Luke. Or 'Typhoid Luke' as he's now called. You know, to look at him you'd never know the pain and suffering he could cause if you really piss him off.

Saying goodbye to a comatose metaphorical baby

2006-05-31T23:57:00.000+01:00

I initially started this blog as a journal of my revitalised vigour at continuing with my book. That vigour had died. It's not that I've lost the will to write, it's just that I cannot see any way to continue with the book that doesn't infringe on the copyrights of Reign of Fire or an upcoming movie starring paul Giamatti, apparently.

Incidentally, I had the Reign of Fire idea first. It just took longer than I expected to get the fucker finished. Bastards.

Anyway. Should you wish to view my unfinished symphony, a Doc file can be downloaded from rapidshare here

I will be starting another baby soon. I've got ideas coming out of my ears, I've just had them on a back burner for 3 years as they wouldn't fit into the existing storyline. I tell you, I'm a literary genius just waitng to explode onto the world. You'll see.

(Insert witty closing statement here)

What I'd do if I won the lottery

2006-05-22T00:27:00.000+01:00

It's a question posed within the confines of many a skull 4 out of 7 days a week, in the UK at least. It's not helped by the countless 'super jackpots' or 'rollovers' that lets the unwashed masses believe they've got a better chance of winning it this week. It's 1 in 14 million. that'll never change.

But.. on the off-chance...

A very large house, one with many rooms. You ever play Resident Evil? That house. Minus the zombies, natch. Failing that, a large house for us, the kids and family, plus several cabins out back for guests. Might even rent them out as a B&B.

I'd have to have an Italian supercar. I've always wanted a Countach or Diabolo, but apparently roadtests aren't favourable in their reviews, so I'll have to go for a Murcielago. But not in yellow.

The rest i'll probably give to the wife.

But I've got to have my cinema. 50 seats. Dolby. Bar. Amusements.

Might even have a function hall, rent it out for weddings...

Just speculating, not like I've just won it or anything. oh no.

My Mate Kev and his sad tale

2006-05-16T22:34:00.000+01:00

Several year ago, I had an online conversation with Kevin Smith, director and co-star of 5 very well known films and one upcoming one. Basically, I'd defended Dogma on the ViewAskew boards from the ramblings of some fundamentalist moron who didn't get the gag, and Kevin contacted me through my hotmail address, he set up a temp hotmail addy himself and chatting was to be had.

He's a cracking bloke, really nice guy and the converstation flowed nicely. Until I asked how Jason was doing. Then there was a pause. Just after I typed "Hello? You still there?" Kevin said "He bolted from rehab again". Jason Mewes was a drug addict, a heavy use one. Kevin Smith loves him like a father and it was heartbreaking to read what Kevin was telling me, a complete stranger, about someone he'd taken under his wing, yet shrugged it off for another fix time and time again.

Jason Mewes is one of those guys you hate with a passion or you want to have him be the godfather to your kids. His persona in the movies as Jay is exactly how Jason is. If you were ever unfortunate enough to see R.S.V.P, you'll see how wide Jason's acting range is: Not very. However, during the filming of Dogma, he was high on either Heroin or Oxycontin every day. There's a scene in that movie 'Holy Bartender' where Jay 's asleep, sitting in a chair. No reason, just asleep. During filming the scene where Rufus (Chris Rock) is explaining to Bethany (Linda fiorentino) about why she was 'chosen' Rock suddenly starts laughing. Smith yells 'cut' and asks Rock what's so funny. Jason is asleep, standing up. Heroin addicts don't sleep like us. They get their heads down for about 2 hours at night, after that it's 5-minute 'quick naps'.

Why am I telling you this? Why, while I'm waiting for the bread to finish, am i recounting past memories of someone I've never met, and probably doesn't know I exist (unless Kevin told him about our conversation)?

At the end of the conversation, I said to Kevin "If he ever gets his head sorted out, you should write about this shit. If he can get clean after all that dope he's done, it needs to be told. He should be a fucking poster boy"

He got clean. Kevin wrote about it (Off his own back, I'm not taking credit for this). it's a hefty slab of reading, but it's from the heart and damn is it inspirational stuff

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

Jason Mewes has now been drug-free for 3 years, and given the life he had, it's incredible that he's done it. You might say that the money helped, but how? The guy had money coming out of his fucking ears and he jacked it all. After Jay & Silent Bob strike back, Jason blew his cash so quickly he was hanging around the editing suite trying the score some cash from Kevin 'Just for one fix, to get my head straight', before the movie was even released.

Clerks 2 is coming out in August. Jason & Kevin aren't the main stars, but dammit, i'm gonna watch it for them. Cause they make me smile.

I will be writing something incredibly deep and profound soon

2006-05-12T17:28:00.000+01:00

Promise...

Bloody tumbleweeds

2006-05-05T23:26:00.000+01:00

Quiet, isn't it? Truth be told, it's been a boring week. So to fill it with pointless drivel would probably lower the tone. (shaddup at the back)

Well, the sun has started to beat down. Hosepipe bans are in effect and I've instantly gone pink.
It's far too hot today..

Oh yeah, got a photoprinter today and it's jolly goood...

I'll be funnier next time, promise.

Ouchy-fuckitty-ouch

2006-04-25T08:36:00.000+01:00

"A rainbow I shall never see, my cataracts are blinding me"

So, I'm at work yesterday, serving a regular and the last things he wants is a few fence panels. The panels are put together sawdust intact, so a small gust of wind blows up this sawdust and a piece of it goes into my eye.

4 hours later I've decided that I can't operate heavy machiney while blind, so i call the better half and ask her to come get me. Bit tricky as I've got the car and home is 15 miles away. Luckily her dad drops her off and it's off to A&E we go.

2.5 hours later and I'm finally shown into a cubicle where this nice big laydee drops some stuff in my eye to numb it. "It'll sting like hell" she says. "Have you seen my tattoos?" I say. "It probably won't hurt that much" she says. It was like the buzzing of flies to me.

So I've got a numb eye, she pokes it with a cotton bud (q-tip) to check there's no sawdust still in there, then squirts some dye in my eye, which is funky stuff and makes the world go orange. If the eyeball is scratched, the dye soaks into the scratches and shows up when she shines a bright blue light on it. Basically, i've done this;

That's not my eye, and the scratches don't actually look like that, but you get the general idea.

So I'm on painkillers and anti-inflammatories, and this gell stuff I have to squirt between my bottom eyelid and eye. Works like a charm, but it blurs my vision, and as I'm virtually blind in the other eye, I'm virtually incapacitated.

Most of last night I was as frustrated as hell. I couldn't see to eat. I couldn't watch the TV. I couldn't do anything that would normally be a breeze. My afflction is temporary, but I couldn't help but wonder how the hell blind people cope with life. I suppose they'd start off a little like me, as frustrated as hell and pissed off with the world. If they were born blind, then coping would be second nature.

So it's protective glasses all round from now on, because my eyesight is more fragile than I'd previously thought, plus I'll be damned if I'm gonna miss Luke growing up.

Oh, and the boobs. i'd miss the boobs...

Gap

2006-04-22T20:58:00.000+01:00

There's a very good reason I haven't done any updates lately.

Please see previous post for details. (Pissed all over thunderhawk)

Memmweeeesss

2006-04-16T21:48:00.000+01:00

"I looked at the past, it looked back. I didn't like that knowing look in its eye.."

Many, many moons ago, I was at the cutting edge of home entertainment. I owned not only a Sega Megadrive(Genesis) But I was also the only person I knew who also bought the Sega MegaCD, which was this huge slab like monstrosity which used far too much electricity (by todays standards), whined like a pussy and got incredibly hot. But still you could play shit-hot games like Night trap, Silpheed and the amazing Ground Zero Texas.

Yes, the video resolution really was that good. hey, this was 1992 and affordable laserdisc hardware was hard to come by. Hell, the pinnacle of disc-related home video was still contained on huge silver slabs of glass coated foil that weighed about 2 kilos and cost about £50 (in 1992) a disc.

Night trap started the FMV revolution, and it also got the mary Whitehouse Brigade up in arms. The premise of the game (if memory serves) was a bunch of chicks (which included the now dead Dana Plato) had a slumber party and all of a sudden these guys in bin liners broke into the house and dragged them screaming into the night. I also believe vampires were in there somewhere.

And so began the age old tale of uninformed morons spouting off about the evils of video games. Typical scenario: some old biddy hears from a friend who's gardener's son likes video games and they've heard a very vague description of said game.

Key words; 'Real video' 'Girls' 'Kidnap' 'vampires' 'badgers' (possibly).

What they would have discovered if they'd actually sat down to play the game to form an educated opinion on it, was that the game was abominally bad. Crap actors in a rubbish set. No special effects to speak of and the screen resolution was so poor that even if a nipple was on display, it would look more like an armpit than the source of the downfall of teenage america.

Sorry, went off on one there. maybe because some ignorant bitch is trying to get HP pulled off the shelves again...

Anyway. Nostalgia is all very well and good, but reliving old memories can be a task. There's a Genesis emulator called Gens32, which, if you know where to find them, plays roms of the old, old Genesis games. I downloaded it ages ago (freeware) mainly because I'd suddenly been attacked by this urge to play FlashBack again. If you'd played the game you'll understand.

Henneeway, long story short, played the decent games to death and wanted to expand my nostalgia experience some more, so after much searching for bios files and downloading 222mb bin files, burning to discs, then sitting back to a good old alien bashing in GZT.

Oh it's rubbish by todays standards. But it's exactly as I remember it. Basically you've got 4 cameras in 4 areas of this town, okay, each area has a crap actor playing a unconvincingly undercover CIA agent. Including Leslie Eastman as DeSalvo, a token chick with tits. Gotta piss off the censors somehow.

Bit of a specific topic, I guess. It's just I got caught up in the whole nostalic thang. I should also mention that I was also one of the less-than-thousand people in the uk that purchased, for the princley sum of £200 (instantly going over the limit on the 33% store card I'd been running up) the black mushroom of doom that was the 32X, with real polygon-shifting. Most mobile phones these days have better graphical abilities, yet, at the time, it was the shit.

This thing, coupled with the sega CD, made the whole thing weight about 5 kilos. You couldn't take it anywhere without doung calf-stretches first. Each unit had its own power cable, plus the interconnecting cables meant an extra 8 cables. plus the optional lightgun (yes, I did), and any games. Taking it over to a friends house entailed military-type precision planning & security. All told the whole setup cost over £600.

And it was shit. The graphics were shit, as were the majority of the games. Some have stood the test of time, but others that were considered classics at the time (aforementioned night trap, Roadrash, Lotus racing (a coup at the time as they got the official license) and the once-revered Mortal Kombat) Are blocky unresponsive clunkers.

So I'll close in saying, if you want to live in the past, just remember, it's a little more jagged then you probably remember.

But it's still as fun as a bikini-wrestling match between Alyson Hannigan and Amy Acker.

Right, I'm off to see if I can download Snatcher and then get disappointed at how crap it is...

Addendun: Something I've noticed is that all the CD roms come packaged with a whole bunch of MP3 files. When the megacd games were released, any large amounts of soundtrack needed were recorded separately (often with real instruments)and then simply placed on the disc as separate tracks. The game picked up and played the tracks when needed. This also meant you could play the CDs in a standard CD player (skipping the first track, as the code normally killed the speakers). Some tracks were incredibly good, some were shit. I managed to feed the audio from the MegaCD through an old ghetto blaster, which also meant I could record the CD audio onto a C90, for automotive enjoyment in my old Mark II escort.

Thunderhawk was great, the tracks on there, while not Slash-worthy, are indeed riffy enough of a few power-stances. Sol-Feace, however, is a bit crap. i'm ashamed to say I thought it was kinda cool. I was wrong. It's crap. Very crap.

The music you're hearing (assuming you've got the volume up) is the title track from the Updated CD version of Flashback. The game, when initially released on cartridge, was fantastic enough, but inbetween the motion-captured action were some short snippets of MSPaint-created animation. Given the new Freedom a 700mb cd offered, Delphine (Flashback's creators) ripped out all the old animations and replaced them with snazzy, state of the art CGI. Unfortunately, the CGI could only be recorded and played through the megaCD's FMV player, giving the impression you were viewing the screen through a cheese grater.

Cutting edge, I'm sure you'll agree. Anyway, having downloaded the flashback rom, I was more than happy to find the MP3 track you're now hearing, as I'd already recorded it onto that tape some 13 years ago. I am personally of the opinion that this track is still good enough to deserve the same treatment, what with my car stereo being able to play MP3's and everything.

Goes around. Comes around

Pimp my Snack - worthy of a Nobel Prize

2006-04-14T14:07:00.000+01:00

This guy deserves a frigging medal Giant cadbury's Creme egg or peanut butter Kit Kat Chunky anyone?

(The giant egg sold for about £17, but the page on ebay had more than 22,000 hits)

(Peanut butter KK chunkies are the work of God himself)

(that is all)

Looks like goodbye was permanent

2006-04-11T07:04:00.000+01:00

Remember my old car, the one I so poignantly said goodbye to a few weeks ago?

I get an e-mail late last night from Dan, the guy I sold it to..

Bad news already.. Car has been written off.. Some idiot decided to pull out on me at which point I panicked and swerved into a wall.. I am not happy at all.. Assuming damage to the wall has to come out of my insurance as he didnt actually interfere with my car.. Even though he pulled right out on me.. I have come off with bruising, cuts and an extremely sore shoulder.. Sorry mate..

Now, i shouldn't feel anything about this, but it was like learning a cousin had lost an arm. We had that car from birth, so to speak. Of course I feel sorrier for Dan. 18 years old and just spent £1500 on a car that had a life of roughly 2 weeks.

Ouch indeed...

At least she didn't call him 'Custard'

2006-04-11T07:00:00.000+01:00

Gwynnie has had a healthy baby boy. She's called him Moses.

"What shall we call our child so that he does not get the shit kicked out of him at school?"

"We shall call him Moses"

I just don't get it. Yes, Moses is a nice enough name, and at least it isn't kumquat, but Moses? Are they planning to pop him in a basket made of leaves and float him down the river to escape persecution from the Paparazzi?

What the hell is wrong with Brian, or Richard? Maybe Chris Jr?

"Just Uncanny"

2006-04-04T22:46:00.000+01:00

Those words, spoken by my boss, This afternoon.

As I posted a few days ago, My Grandfather passed away recently. As fate would have it, My Aunt and uncle were over from canada as my Aunt's (Non-blood rellie) father was also gravely ill. As it turns out, my Grandfather died while my Uncle was in the country, unfortunately, so did my Aunts.

Told my boss, and that was his response.

It's almost enough for you to start questioning fate.

And the first person that tells me "ooh, it comes in three's, you know.." gets a baseball bat.

Bloody Told ya..

2006-04-02T22:42:00.000+01:00

Found this Link through Fark

I do believe I said it first...

(adopts smug pose)

(leans back in chair with hands behind head)

(falls off chair)

Hapland 3

2006-04-02T15:46:00.000+01:00

The Guy that makes these puzzles is a complete bastard. There, that's made me feel better.

You can spend an hour clicking on random objects, thinking you're getting somewhere, until you realise that you shouldn't have pulled that lever until you'd pressed that button. So far I've killed four of the little guys, made a spider steal that little birdie's egg. Caused many explosions and fed the sea monster.

I thought I was getting really far until luke showed an interest in what I was doing and pressed the little 'close window' button at the bottom left of my keyboard. I started it up again but by then I'd completely forgotten what the hell I'd done the last time.

See, it's crap like this that's stopping me from becoming an award-winning novellist.

What would you do?

2006-03-31T19:04:00.000+01:00

EDIT: was pissing me off

My Grandad died yesterday

2006-03-30T21:32:00.000+01:00

...and I feel nothing. I dunno, when i was growing up, we'd go and see my nan every Sunday. She'd be sitting in ger chair by the 2 bar electric fire, a pack of No.6's on the arm of her chair. we'd do this every weekend, yet Grandad would never be there. Sometime's he would turn up, but I can only remember his Cement truck, the barrel turning slowly.

Xmas was a laugh though, he had this piece of sack-cloth with the card suits, a crown and another symbol on it, and he'd have three dice with the corresponding pictures. We'd place our bets (pennies) on the symbols and he'd roll the dice. if our picture was rolled, we got the money back double. 2 symbols triple. three symbols, a pound (the motherlode)

Then my nan died. cancer. Horrible. Grandad moved to a small bungalow over the road from my Mother's house. I remember I'd just been up town with my brother and I'd bought a lego cement truck, I wanted to show Grandad. He was happy to see us.

Then he met.. someone who wasn't nan. This woman didn't ingratiate herself to the family very well, even called my niece a bitch to my sister. Maybe she was, but we're not going to have this woman talk to us like her opinion matters.

This was many, many years ago. I suppose I'd met and spoke to him twice in 10 years. He didn't come to our wedding (didn't invite him, actually) And he never met Luke. I think I actually would have liked to have introduced them, but I didn't have the faintest clue how to contact him.

Anyway, for what it's worth..

Arthur Kench - R.I.P.

Tony..

2006-03-28T19:37:00.000+01:00

Get a haircut, and a girlfriend...

(private joke)

Pear-shaped...

2006-03-27T21:49:00.000+01:00

Well, Dan came and got the car today, meaning I was walking around with £1500 in tens & twenties in an envelope in my pocket for about 3 hours. The plan was, after work I'd walk a mile up the road to have a look at a Laguna. I'd driven past it last night but it was dark and pissing down, so i didn't get a good lok. More fool me.

Got there today and it's not so good in the daylight, peeling paint, hole in the leather seats. Ho-hum i think, i'll give it a spin. I call the guy, Paul. Nice bloke but a bit of a chav. Starts the engine and I can hear the tappits screaming.

"Oh, it's sounded like that for a while, still drives nice."

"Mm-hmm. Let's see.."

So i rip it around a few local roads (it's the same area as the flat I use to live in) braking sharply to check tracking and brake wear.

"So, when was the cambelt changed"

"?"

"It's done 111,000 miles, has the cambelt been changed recently?" This throws him, so he starts looking through the service records.

"It doesn't look like it's been changed. But it must be due for one"

"yeah, about thirty-thousand miles ago" (For the unmechanically minded, The cambelt basically stops the pistons trying to create a sunroof in the top of the engine block)

So I call annie and tell her to call the insurance company to see how much it would cost to insure it. I pop to my sisters around the corner and wait for annie's call...

£200 now until the end of the year, £600 a year after that.

I now have no car - which sucks...

Saying goodbyee to old friends

2006-03-26T21:41:00.000+01:00

It's weird, but it's only a car..

It's a wrench getting rid of it, it's done us bloody good service. annie used it for Kleeneze (spit) and it's taken us, quite literally around the country, from Ashford, across to Bristol, through wales (and a bloody expensive toll bridge - next time we'll swim), up to Shrewsbury (shit) up to carlisle (before the flood), along Hadrian's wall to Kelso, just so I could see the place i might have got my original surname from, up around Edinburgh to Kircaldy to visit with friends, back down to Harrogate to meet up with Nathan and a few beers. Then it was a 4-hour slog back down to ashford, cutting the holiday short as my pregnant wife was feeling like shit - back home to the shithole flat and a fridge that ran out of electricity around Bristol-time.

Happy days...

An ego can be an awful thing...

2006-03-26T02:48:00.000+01:00

Taken from imdb

" 'Brokeback' Actor Says He Was Victim of "Movie Laundering"
Randy Quaid has filed a $10-million lawsuit against the producers of Brokeback Mountain, claiming they misled him into believing that the film was "a low-budget, art-house film, with no prospect of making any money" so that he would sign on at a low salary figure. Quaid said in the lawsuit that he originally was approached in 2004 by director Ang Lee, who told him, "We can't pay anything, we have very little money, everyone is making a sacrifice to make this film." In fact, he says, the film has proved to be a box-office hit, grossing around $160 million worldwide. Quaid charged in the lawsuit that he was the victim of a "movie laundering" scheme intended to obtain his services as an actor in Brokeback "on economically unfavorable art-film terms."

Yeah, randy, I can see how you were really hard done by, what with you being an A-list celeb and everything... Twat

Fucking Warner Bros and their copyright bollocks.

2006-03-24T23:16:00.000Z

(a.k.a. pissed post #1)

I'm a great fan of Harry Potter, as my friends and colleagues will testify. I'll defend the books until my ears bleed (The Nazi's were the last lot to burn books, lets get that one out of the way) but I'll stall when it comes to the films.

Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone and Chamber of Secrets were shit films. Chris Columbus painted toffee and candyfloss all over stories that, while child-centric, had a deep underlying dark tone to them. A tone that had darkened as the books progressed, reaching a low with the unheroic death of a liked character. But no. we had to end the second film with that embarrassing Hagrid-wank-fest.

Sorry, I digress. I got goblet of fire today, a film I like more than prisoner, mainly because there wasn't some mexican at the helm who kept trying to infuse subtle undertones of a pubescent threesome into the mix.

Anyway. I own it on DVD, having paid to see it at the cinema but WB have all the cash they're going to get out of me with regards to this film.

So why oh why oh why, after putting the DVD into my antiquated Sammy 709, does the unskippable "You wouldn't steal a car" bullshit advert come on?

Sorry, I haven't stolen this DVD and I find it fucking insulting that you are inferring that I would. So why should I see this shit EVERY TIME I WANT TO WATCH THIS FILM??

That said, there is this little chinese guy that comes around at work every now and again with his 3-syllable sales pitch "deeveedee?" I just tell him to go away, mainly because he's proving F.A.C.T right about piracy funding people smuggling.

No, I don't feel sorry for him. No, he legally shouldn't be in this country.

DVD's are great and everything, Hi-Def, 5.1 and DTS, extra features, but it's like I mentioned about the PSP, it's too easy to hack and exploit. They can try to enhance security on the DVDs, but the determined geeks with nothing to do all day except sit in their Mom's basement ripping programs apart are going to nullify all that work and release it as open source.

With the advent of Hi-def and Blu-Ray (can anyone spell betamax?) the pirate market will not go away, it'll just become more expensive. But no amount of cheaply-made anti-piracy adverts is going to make a hell of a difference to that.

Normal sevice might be resumed

2006-03-23T23:17:00.000Z

Housework, chores, shopping, selling me car on ebay. All these things are stopping me from typing incredibly witty and verbose stuff.

Oh, and trying to get the cockateil back into the bloody cage...

Just in case another 2 turn up for dinner

2006-03-20T18:45:00.000Z

Look Closely

Everything in Moderation

2006-03-20T18:09:00.000Z

Now, I like my PSP, I think it's an incredible piece of kit, and Sony themselves have advertised the handheld as'opportunistic gaming', whereby you can just pick it up when you've got a spare 5 minutes and have a quick fumble with Tommy vercetti..

This guy, however, took 'opportunistic' a little too seriously. Prick. How the hell is he gonna get any kind of plot cohesion if he's only playing in 30 second bursts?

While I'm on the subject of PSP's, Sony have recently reported 'Disappointing sales' of UMD's, the 'dvd movie' side of the PSP universe.

Well, duh.

Upon the release of the PSP console, Sony were also good enough to supply 1gb memory cards, 2gb memory cards and include firmware that plays Mp4 video files. They also told everyone that software is available that can convert VOB files (Raw DVD Data) into MP4 file. All you needed was a program that could rip the vobs off a dvd. That'll be DVDdecrypter then.

Now, I have a collection of DVDs that could be described as 'healthy' (needs updating, actually), and is I'm getting quite adept at all this ripping and converting lark, I technically have over 300 titles I can watch on my PSP within an hour. I currently have Bill Baily: part troll and 2 episodes of Blackadder II ready for the viewing.

I bought Wedding Crashers on UMD, funny enough film, and it's got a few special features (deleted scenes and a commentary track) but it's simply not as good as the DVD, which is exactly the same price.

Unless Sony release certain movies exclusively on UMD, or include UMD only features on the discs, they'll never make money.

I'll repeat to the point of advertising that the PSP is an awesome piece of hardware, but Sony made it too user friendly. It was hacked within a month of release to play downloaded games.

I'll buy the games, but I'm not gonna pay for a movie that I can also enjoy in widescreen and dolby 5.1 as well

\rant off
\\ stop going to Fark

Gerry Adams gets detained by Washington Immigration

2006-03-19T16:47:00.000Z

Cracks me up.

I'm just guessing that they had a problem with his answer to "Have you ever been a member of a terrorist organisation?"

What the hell is a meme?

2006-03-19T10:09:00.000Z

Oh, if only to be as verbose and well-read as my peers...

Courtesy of Mike, in amongst his other brain-spillages, was a list of questions. You know the type, they look entertaining, but without knowing it, you're opening up your psyche to anyone that wants a dig around. With some people that's ok, but with others...

1) What would you do if you could be a member of the opposite sex for one day?

Ever seen Porky's? Police Academy 1? I'm a simple man

2) What animal do you most identify with?

Koala. 23 hours asleep, one hour stoned

3) If you could wipe out one group of people off the face of the earth, no repercussions, who would the group be and why?

Pikeys, gyppos, white trash scum. Anyone who delights in the misery of others. And Jordan

4) OK, you get to have any magical power you want. What do you pick?

Invisibility. See Q1. plus It'd be pretty easy to get your hands on free cash

5) Would you pick the boat, or the mystery box? (a boat is just a boat, but the mystery box..that could be anything. It could even be a boat!)

The boat. I deal in certainties

6) How do you want do die?

Wearing a bandana, a P-90 in both hands, a cigar in my mouth, taking out the last of Al-Quaeda wearing a dirty vest and screaming my bollocks off. But it'll probably be in a hospital bed surrounded by my family, sitting in a puddle of my own fluids

7) How do you want to live?

As comfortably as possible, thanks.

8) Is there any character trait, action, or belief in another person that would make you lose all interest in them immediately?

If they talked about God too much.

9) If you had the power to legalize one illegal thing, what would it be?

Probably a stock answer, but Mary-Jane. Half the reason it isn't legalised is because the Govt can't regulate and tax it.

\soap-box off

10) Do you eat any foods in an odd way?

I used to lick the flavouring off Cheese & onion crisps first, then be heartedly disappointed that the un-flavoured crisp was moist and bland in taste... Oh, and I also used to dissect Twix fingers until there was only the biscuit left, then dunk it in my tea...

11) Have you ever had a supernatural experience?

Many, one resulting in personal injury, which I still bear the scars of..

12) Have you ever thought about something and had it come true?

Every bloody day, and it's beginning to freak me out a bit, actually

13) What was the worst experience you've ever had in a relationship?

Not realising what was going on behind my back, then looking back years later and realising it was all my own bloody fault

14) Ever switch your religion?

I have been baptised, but against my will (I was too young to tell the priest to piss off). I'm now agnostic with Atheist tendancies

15) What comes first: your lover or your family?

You've seen Luke. No contest

16) What do you want done with your body once you die?

Encased in Bronze witha plaquard saying "Avenge me" I might not actually need avenging, but I'd like to give those that survive me something to do.

17) Are you attracted to a particular sign of the zodiac?

Leo (Annie) and Taurus (Luke) I have a soft spot for Cancer too

18) Were you ever really good at something you really didn't like doing?

That's not of your goddamn business and I'd like you to stay out of my personal affairs. Oh, and the night shift at the hotel. I rocked, but the job sucked.

19) Is there a word or phrase you used to use that you would feel really embarrassed using now? (Ex. Phat; as if, etc.)

We used to say 'well' instead of 'very'. As in 'That bird was well fit'. Actually pretty much 50% of my vocabulary 1986-1992

20) You have 5 hours left to live. What do you do?

Have lots and lots of sex.

21) If you had to, would you eat another human to survive?

Depends on the human.

22) You're walking down the street with your best friend, when all of a sudden two people come out of nowhere. One grabs your friend and starts beating them up, bad. The other tells you you'd better not help, because their friend has a knife, and they will use it. But you don't see a knife. They don't even have their hands in their pockets. What do you do?

Pull out my own knife (You've seen them) and wade in a'slashing. I keed

23) Do you have a victory dance?

If you count pointing and laughing

24) Have you started using any phrases that you heard someone use on TV, in the movies, or in a book?

I try not to in recent times, but I can date my quoting back to Filthy, Rich and Catflap

25) Did you ever have to wear a uniform for anything in your life?

Every job I've had, apart from the first one. Which was a shit job

26) Is there a situation that you still look back on, going over it in your head again and again, thinking of ways you could have handled it better?If so, what? Or if there are a lot, pick one.

Grammar School. Maybe I should have paid attention

27) What's your favorite object that serves no real purpose?

That's none... ok, maybe my sword/knife collection. I'll never use tham unless in extreme circumstances, and run to a total value of about £600+

28) Pro-life or pro-choice? Why?

Choice, I'm a great believer in the induvidual being resposible for their own actions

29) For or against the death penalty? Why?

Yes, because there's some fuckbags out there that deserve it, but no, because of the mistakes made in the past

30) For or against gay marriage? Why?

For. See Q.28

31) Your first born child just told you they're gay. How do you feel?

Incredibly proud that they feel they know and trust me enough to tell me straight out

32) Is there anyone in your life worth going to jail for?

Yup.

33) Have you ever said something really clever to one of those annoying telemarketers? If so, what?

"I'm registered with TPS, you're breaking the law by calling me, can I have your name.. hello?"

34) What's your favorite weapon?

I'd have to say the Valdris, but for sheer use-ability, the samaurai sword that's currently under the bed comes a close second

Skipping 35 as I don't think it should be brought up in a warm and friendly Q&A

36) Which celebrity can't you stand that everyone seems to love?

Jade

37) Is there any food that is almost guaranteed to make you sick?

Parsnips, oddly enough

38) Do you screen your calls when you don't recognize the number, or does your curiosity get the better of you?

If it's my mobile I won't answer another mobile number If don't recognise it. I answer every call at home as we're TPS'd up

39) How's your self-esteem?

Whenever I'm feeling a little down, I just look at my son and remind myself that I helped create him. After that, I'm God

London

2006-03-18T23:38:00.000Z

Bloody weirdos, the lot of 'em.

Nah, i'm only kidding. Well, depends on the part of london you go to. Stick around the touristy bits, you're fine, but when you get into the living quarters, it gets a bit gritty. Just spent the day with a good friend who lives in the lambeth area (not for from elephant & Castle tube). He's a gay prison officer, so to live in a huge block of flats where some of the ex-cons live is a bit fraught with danger, but he manages.

He's got a lovely view from his balcony, from st pauls on the far left, past St Pauls, past Greenwich with the ever impressive sprouting of buildings at Canary Wharf. Annie didn't quite get too close to the window, and Dave himself is a bit icky around heights. Ironic, in an Alanis kinda way..

All through this, i always like to torment the Okie, as she's got a metaphoriocal boner for London. First text I get back; "Take a picture of the magic trees in Hyde Park" Dave hasn't got a clue as to what she's talking about, and suggests sellotaping a magic wand to a tree and photographing that. I almost do, but suffer from lack of wand and sellotape.

I had intended to go to harrods, as I always like to bitch about people with too much money, but i managed to do that on Oxford Street. People with too much money haven't got a fucking clue how to dress themselves, I think they do it deliberately. "Yes, i have money, and the only way for me to tell you this without actually stooping to talk to you is to dress like a prick. Like the mu-mu?"

Next time we'll have more spending money and I'm actually considering driving up there.

Yikes...

Bloody technology

2006-03-17T06:53:00.000Z

My own blog not letting me in?? It'll rue the day, i tells ya

Testing drugs for fun and profit

2006-03-16T21:31:00.000Z

You may have heard in the news about these poor guys that had a pretty shitty reaction to some experimental drugs. While tests such as these are of course, necessary (If only to shut the peta fuckwits the hell up) but it shivers the spine to think these guys were that hard up that they'd put their lives on the line to earn £3000.

That said, in the ensuing days since, everyone connected with a voice has been piping up, one of the Placebo-popping patsies sold his story to the tabloids as soon as he was cleared. Nice.

One thing that ashamedly made me smile though, was that apparently, the affected men "Tore off their shirts, scratched at their skin, clutched their heads and started screaming". For the life of me all I could think of was...

With one mighty bound...

2006-03-16T21:21:00.000Z

Well, I was getting right back down to it, but it appears my hibernating social life has woken up again. I've got a weekend off, and inbetween looking after Luke and showering affection on Annie (or visa versa), I was intending to do that character backstory and maybe think about a cohesive plot.

Instead, We're off up the pub tomorrow night to see one of Annie's friends (Sam, mad as a box of chinchillas) and on Friday, we're off to Jammie's second favourite place , London (after 'Hank's good time bar and Grill - Ask about our Stella specials').

Just off for the day to catch up with Dave, who we haven't seen since before Luke started existing. Cue a day in Harrods looking at stuff we can't afford... again..

After that I should have some time on sunday, but we're out window shopping for a new car...

Maybe next weekend...

Disclaimer

2006-03-13T22:24:00.000Z

Ok. that one was a little deep. but fret not, the random outbursts and bad grammar start here...

A lot can happen in 4 years (beware: self-indulgent ramble ahead)

2006-03-13T21:32:00.000Z

..and I'm not kidding. 4 years ago today I was living in hell, not purgatory, not limbo, but in the sweaty mitts of a breathing nightmare.

Hi, I'm pete, and I'll be your host.

I'm not going to tell you what my hell consisted of. I've put it down on paper before and that pretty much killed those particular demons. The reason I've backtracked to that point is that before Dante's back garden opened up, I was writing... something. It was running along smoothly with all the momentum of a runaway tricycle.

Then... it stopped. The juices stopped flowing. Inspiration dried up. Then to top it all off, events conspired to make me pretty much stop everything except work, breathe, sleep and sometimes eat. Then on April Fool's day 2002 it ended.

just under 3 months later, I married. 5 Months after that, i spent a month's honeymoon in Australia. Three days after I got back I got fired.

2002 was the worst and best year of my life

Then.. nothing. Inbetween work and juggling tight finances I went nowhere near the book. It just wasn't up there on my list of things to do. 'Don't get evicted' and 'eat', however, were.

2005, July 9th. Something else comes up.

This guy starts existing
Luke. Muh boyyy. Hatched 23/4/5

Pretty much takes up every waking hour. This is NOT a bad thing. I have wept real tears just watching him sleep.

I'm now 32. The wedding ring has left an indelible dent in my finger, hidden by a white gold ring I'll never remove, as permanent as, but a lot less painful than my many tribal markings.

The mark my boy has left on me goes deeper.

I'm content. Stable. Comfortable. I'd like a bit more cash, a few more hours sleep a night, but I can live with the hardship.

So, to the point (which has been standing in the corner, tutting impatiently and looking at its watch). I've just re-read the original draft of my book and edited where necessary. Some of it's crap, some of it's drivel, some of it's laughably written, but most of it's good.

I'm re-starting from page 67. Something about the Brothers never getting ill...