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...
26 January 2009
04 September 2008
For Sale
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...
27 August 2008
Yankee Hypocrites
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...
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...
25 August 2008
Life, the everlasting life, all that crap
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
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
26 July 2008
Exactly how do you prepare yourself for an hour of agony?
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
(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
17 May 2008
aw crap
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...
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...
04 May 2008
Green Fingers - a surprising turn of events
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...
Some director bloke likes it, and apparently, he's gonna film it.
scuse me while i get another fookin' beer...
01 March 2008
GAWD BLESS YA 'ARRY!!!!
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...
...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...
26 January 2008
Pissing in the wind - Theologically speaking
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.
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.
06 January 2008
Mugglenet got hacked
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...
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...
05 October 2007
Window Shopping
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.
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.
15 September 2007
Fudge
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.
27 August 2007
How the Teaser Trailer for deathly Hallows should look.
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-
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-
12 August 2007
My Greatest Ever Doodle
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
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
22 July 2007
My Official Harry Potter & The Deathly hallows Review
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)
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)
14 July 2007
Damn, my boy rocks
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.
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.
17 June 2007
The Big Top
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.
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.
03 May 2007
Just testing the ol' powers
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...
26 April 2007
Not too fucking sure about this
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.
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.
20 March 2007
POTC:AWE
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.
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.
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