Jeez, I REALLY suck.

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

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

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

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...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Promise...

Bloody tumbleweeds

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

"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

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

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

Memmweeeesss

"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

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

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'

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"

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.