Thoughtballoons - Blonde Phantom

This week Thoughtballoons features our first female hero, and by far the most obscure character we've yet had to come up with a 1-page adventure for. Blonde Phantom was a pulp heroine introduced in the 1940s by Timely Comics (the original name for Marvel). Louise Mason was a mild-mannered secretary of PI Mark Mason by day... and a sexy crime fighter by night.

This was a great opportunity to write something I've never tried before - a locked room mystery. But would I be able to pull it off in one page? I remembered the old Mike Mist Minute Mysteries that used to run in Ms. Tree courtesy of Max Allan Collins and Terry Beatty, so I knew it was possible. You be the judge of whether I succeeded...

Read my one-page Blonde Phantom mystery by clicking here, then be sure to check out what the other writers have done with the character.

Next week, it's my turn to pick. Oh, who shall it be...?

Off The Wagon

I have a confession to make.

After years of restraint, circumspection and self-discipline, I have slipped.

I have fallen off the wagon.

I'm drinking again.

No. Not alcohol. (Sorry, Penelope.)

Not alcohol, but almost as bad.

The dreaded bean.

Coffee.

I managed to kick the habit three years ago, fighting my way through the withdrawal headaches to the point where I actually believed I didn't need it anymore. But there's nothing compares with the smell of freshly brewed coffee in a morning (not even napalm), and I've been lured back in. Maybe I needed a little drug abuse to help me deal with the back pain. Whatever my excuse, I'm drinking again. And though it's only a couple of times a week, I can feel the addiction digging in its claws.

I'm limiting my abuse to proper coffee only. Filter coffee, never instant. Which means I only drink when I'm out or visiting my folks, occasionally at home (via cafetiere)... and every now and then, from a coffee shop.

This morning I had to take my car in for a new exhaust. With an hour to kill, I drifted into town and found myself besieged by coffee shops. I'd actually intended to go record shopping. Louise found a band on the Glastonbury coverage we both thought sounded pretty cool (The Avett Brothers) and I thought I'd pick up their CD. I remember when I was a kid, a trip into town offered a myriad of possible music outlets. Now there's only sad old HMV. The lone survivor of the high street music decimation. And did they have the disc? Did they buggery. No record shops then... but thousands of coffee shops. Everywhere you look. Starbucks. Cafe Nero. Costa Coffee. Merrie England (!) Not to mention the independents. There's a coffee shop on every corner. How do they all stay in business? Are we that addicted?

I chose an independent. The last time I visited Starbucks I was disturbed to discover their takeaway cupholders are made from 'post-consumer fibre'. How Soylent Green is that? I liked the look of this place though, and the fact that the owner was playing (and singing along to) Gene as I walked in. His patter was slick too - "there you go, young man" - till I realised it was just his standard routine. You feel less enamoured by someone addressing you as "young man" when he gives the same line to the pensioner following you in the queue. But then it happened. The thing I've found keeps happening, ever since I started frequenting coffee shops again...

It's always the same. I walk in and make my order. I've never been one for mocha-frappa-bollocksa-chinos. My needs are simple. I just want a plain black coffee. So that's all I ask for...

"Regular black coffee, please."

Is that not clear enough? Is there some room for misunderstanding? No? So please, someone tell me, why do I keep hearing the same question whenever I ask for a regular BLACK coffee...?

"Do you want milk with that?"

Seriously. Is it just me?

30 Songs - Day 8

Day 08 - A Song You Know All The Words To

A sad fact widely known
The most impassionate song
To a lonely soul
Is so easily outgrown
But don't forget the songs
That made you smile
And the songs that made you cry
When you lay in awe
On the bedroom floor
And said : "Oh, oh, smother me Mother..."

So sang Morrissey in his tribute to those long teenage hours spent studying lyrics. How many hours did I spend on my bedroom floor, lyrics sheet in hand - or, on those frustrating occasions when no lyrics sheet was provided, headphones on, writing them out myself, listening to that one line over and over again to work out... just what were they singing? Kids these days don't know how lucky they've got it, in a world where most songs give up their mystery at the click of a mouse. I'm glad I grew up when I did.



One of the songs I spent longest on as a teenager was Don McLean's American Pie. Ostensibly a song about the death of Buddy Holly, whole theses have been written about the many supposed references that pepper the song's 8.33 running time. Was Bob Dylan the Jester? Elvis the king? Was it Lennon or Lenin who read a book on Marx? Was that a reference to Altamont? Is Mick Jagger satan? Or are some people reading far too much into it?

When asked what American Pie really meant, Don McLean quipped, "it means I never have to work again". Seems like a pretty good deal to me. Being that he also gave us Vincent and Castles In The Air, his retirement is well-deserved.

True Things About Me

“This is the story of a woman brave enough to risk it all” says the blurb, which makes Deborah Kay Davies’ debut novel True Things About Me sound like some kind of dramatic, bodice-ripping romance or courageous struggle against adversity. It’s the kind of nonsense I’d expect to find on a Barbara Cartland or Mills & Boon… and it does little to prepare the reader for this disturbing insight into the mind of a woman on the verge of breakdown, lured into an abusive, destructive relationship. I’m not entirely sure what drives the heroine to follow this path. Is she so bored with her life she’s looking to spice it up with danger? Is it the irresistible allure of the bad boy? Or does she have such a poor self-image that any attention is better than none? Davies never makes it entirely clear, though I suspect it’s a combination of all three. Despite this question the novel remains frighteningly plausible and Davies carefully balances the darker moments with unexpected humour and a quirky world view that makes our self-destructive narrator a strangely endearing character throughout. You may well cheer when she finally takes positive action to extricate herself from these dire circumstances… but you may also wonder why it’s taken her so long.

“The story of a woman brave enough to risk it all”? Or a woman stupid enough to not know what’s good for her? You decide…

Top Ten DJ Songs

A long time ago, in a whole other lifetime, I used to write and publish a comic called THE JOCK. In it, a group of rebel DJs fought for freedom and real music in a world where mindless corporate muzak had become the opiate of the masses. A book where the hero was a DJ...? Why not write a comic about a super-powered traffic warden or altruistic ambulance-chasing lawyer while I was at it? No wonder it didn't catch on.

During my 20+ years in the radio industry, I've known a hell of a lot of DJs. Some of them have gone on to fame and fortune, some have gone on to proper jobs. Some have even been intelligent, sincere, modest, warm-hearted and normal. For every Chris Evans, there's a Mark Radcliffe or John Peel. Well, there used to be. The true DJ is a dying breed, for some of the reasons found in song below... here's my tribute.

10. Faithless - God Is A DJ

There are thousands of dance songs about DJs, but most are about club DJs rather than radio. Still, the principle is the same I suppose - someone passionate about music, passionate about sharing that music with the world. Faithless is as close as I ever got to dance music. If my God was a DJ, he'd mostly play songs with real instruments and proper lyrics. I guess I'm just an old-fashioned guy.

9. The View - Wasted Little DJs / Face For Radio

Who knows why Scottish band The View are so obsessed with DJs that they wrote two songs about them on their debut album ? Perhaps it was a ploy to get their records played?

The same record for the 16th time
Exact same set you did the last time round

Hmm... perhaps not.

8. David Bowie - DJ

I am a D.J.
I am what I play
I got believers
Believing me

The DJ as cult (sp?) of ego... as only Mad Dave McMad could do it.

7. Soulwax - Too Many DJs

"Everybody wants to be the DJ" sang Soulwax. Well of course we do. We all believe our own tastes in music are far superior to those of anyone else.

The ironic thing is that Soulwax now seem to far prefer being DJs themselves, rather than actually recording any new records. Which is a shame.

6. Tom Petty - The Last DJ

Back when I started working in radio, I had aspirations to be a presenter myself. Soon after that, free choice was taken away from the majority of jocks and replaced by music testing, focus groups and playlists. That was what spurred me into creating The Jock and convinced me it wasn't the career for me. (Well, that and the fact that I have a shit voice.)

Well you can't turn him into a company man
You can't turn him into a whore
And the boys upstairs just don't understand anymore
Well the top brass don't like him talking so much
And he won't play what they say to play
And he don't want to change what don't need to change
And there goes the last DJ
Who plays what he wants to play
And says what he wants to say
Hey, hey, hey

5. The Hold Steady - Most People Are DJs

Everyone's a critic and most people are DJs

I know it's not what this song is about... but can you come up with a better eight word definition of the internet?

4. Donald Fagen - The Nightfly

Amazingly, I can't find the original of this Donald Fagen classic anywhere on the net. Lots of middle-aged blokes playing it in their bedrooms though...

I'm Lester the Nightfly
Hello Baton Rouge
Won't you turn your radio down
Respect the seven second delay we use

I used to work on a phone-in show. Spent my nights telling people to turn off their radios before they went on air. And calling the police to deal with all the nutters and attempted suicides...

3. Harry Chapin - W*O*L*D*

Harry Chapin. Genius. Three words that should always be used in close proximity.

A plea from an old, drunk DJ to the ex-wife who doesn't want him back...

Got a spot on the top of my head, just begging for a new toupee
And a tire on my gut from sitting on my...
But they're never gonna go away
Sometimes I get this crazy dream
That I just drove off in my car
But you can travel on ten thousand miles and still say where you are
Been thinking that I should stop this jocking
And start that record store
Maybe I could settle down and you'd take me back once more...

2. The Smiths - Panic

Come on, you knew it was coming. You're only surprised it's not number one.

Hang the blessed DJ!

1. Mark Germino - Rex Bob Lowenstein

Tom Petty's isn't the only last DJ. When Hartlanberg's Rex Bob gets told what to play by the boys upstairs, he's locks himself in the studio and goes out fighting.

Now, one day a man in a pinstriped suit
Took the owner of the station to a restaurant booth
His pitch was simple, "you’ll increase your sales
If you only play the song list we send in the mail."

He guaranteed a larger audience
Less confusion and higher points
"But your drive-time jock won’t get to do his thing.
Hey he’s not half bad, tell me, what’s his name?"

For all those wondering what happened to Buggles and Video Killed The Radio Star... I'm saving that for my Radio Top Ten... which is looking more like a Top 40 at the moment. Kinda fitting. In the meantime... what's your favourite DJ song?

Back & Forth

The back problems continue.

The MRI scan I had a few weeks ago showed up a large broad-based central disc protrusion just above the base of my spine. My GP suggested I see a specialist as I may need an operation to correct this. Being that this whole thing has been going on 9 months now, I decided to pay for a private consultation to speed up the process (rather than waiting another few weeks for one on the NHS). It cost £150, which isn’t cheap, and I certainly couldn’t afford to pay for a private op… but at least I could get a quick answer.

So on Tuesday I drove to the poshest hospital I’ve ever seen. So posh they have three guys waving you into your parking space. So posh the lifts look like they belong in a 5 star hotel. So posh the second there weren’t enough chairs to seat everybody in the waiting area, a member of staff rushed off to find extra chairs. So posh I was seen, within 5 minutes, by a doctor who made Doug Ross look like Jonathan Ross. I felt pretty out of place in my Incredible Hulk T-shirt, I can tell you.

It was all very thorough. All very professional. But at the end of the day, I’m no nearer any kind of solution.

“We could operate, but we’d be operating mainly to deal with the pain in your leg. It wouldn’t have any effect on the pain in your back.”

The pain in my leg is caused by the misplaced disc pressing on my sciatic nerve. But it’s a pain that comes and goes. It’s a secondary by-product of the main problem, and if I just had the pain in my leg, I’d happily deal with it by taking a couple of anti-inflammatories every time it flared up. The main problem, the one that causes me the most discomfort, the one that prevents me from standing still for more than two or three minutes without pain, the one that's seriously curtailing my gigging life – that’s the problem in my back. But no operation can solve that. All I can do is wait for my spine to become used to the new position of the disc, and over time that pain should then subside.

On the one hand I’m disappointed. I really hoped there might be a clear-cut solution. On the other hand, I’m relieved. I didn’t want an operation – even a 5% risk is too much, and much as I hate my job I’d feel bad having to take up to 6 weeks off work, as though I was letting down my colleagues. But I’m not ready to give up just yet. There are still other things I can try…

Next stop… chiropracty.

(Sceptics, leave your comments at the door.)

Thoughtballoons - Superman

This week's Thoughtballoons character requires no introduction... so I shan't give him one...

...other than to say I'm not a huge Superman fan. There are a number of reasons for this, but the two biggest reasons form the basis of my own one-page script this week. It's a little bit of a cop out... but it's all I could come up with. As the title says, Writers' Block Is My Kryptonite. For some slightly more super Superman stories, check out the scripts by the other guys too.

Charlie Brooker Rules Misanthropy

I'm not going to do a conventional review of Charlie Brooker's The Hell Of It All, I'm just going to pull out a selection of quotes and let you make up your own mind...

Here's a sentence rarely used to open newspaper columns: why don't most people just blow their own heads off?

Nothing beats living alone. Why shackle yourself to a fellow human being for the rest of your days? Because you're in love? Don't be a wuss. That'll fade after a few years and all you'll be left with is a walking catalogue of tiny, grating quirks gleefully pointing out your shortcomings. To avoid murdering each other, you'll have to keep yourselves anaesthetised with DVD box sets and the occasional holiday. Life partner? Joy thief more like.*

Activity holidays... the idea fills me with revulsion. What if a really annoying jabbering, bearded bloke latches on to me on the first day and decides I'm his best mate and won't leave me alone, and I'm stuck with him in some Amazonian wilderness and the sun's beating down and he's talking and talking and farting for comic effect and eating sandwiches and walking around with egg-mayonnaise round his mouth until I want to grab the nearest rock and stove his skull in, and carry on smashing and smashing and roaring at the sky until the others dash over to pull me off him, but by then I've gone totally feral and start coming at them with the rock, which by now is all matted with gore and brain and beard hair, and I manage to clock one of them hard in the temple and they're flat on the ground, limbs jerking like an electrocuted dog, but as I swing for the next one some self-appointed hero rugby-tackles me, but I'm still putting up a fight so in desperation they all stamp on my neck until they're certain I'm dead, then throw my body in the river and make a lifelong pact to tell no one the truth of what happened that day? What sort of holiday is that?

Charlie Brooker - giving misanthropy a good name.






*I wonder if he'll read that extract at his wedding to the former Blue Peter presenter? Hmmm...

The Dark Side Meme

Via Sunday Stealing...

1. You’re building your dream house. What’s the one thing that this house absolutely, positively MUST HAVE? (other than the obvious basics of course)

A library.

2. What is your dream car?



It's more of a nightmare...

3. What is your favourite website that isn’t a blog?

Wikipedia.

4. iPhone 4 or Droid, which do you want?

What, an actual droid? Like R2?

Whatever, I don't want an iPhone, even if Steve Jobs is giving them away. iTunes is bad enough.

5. When you’re feeling down or lonely or just generally out of sorts, what do you do to cheer yourself up?

Read comics, listen to music, and torture small children.

6. Tell me about something or someone that you love that most people seem to hate.

Judging from the internet, that would probably be Amazing Spider-Man post-BND. Still, the sensible among you are starting to come round...

7. What do you want to be when you grow up?

I don't want to grow up.

8. Would you go on a reality show if given the chance?

Not unless they gave me a gun with 100 Bullets.

9. Who was your favourite teacher when you were growing up?

Junior School - Miss Howard

High School - Mr. Shaw

10. You get one pass to do something illegal or immoral. What are you gonna do?

Rob a well-stocked bank.

11. What were you doing 10 years ago?

Same as I'm doing now. Unfortunately.

12. By this time next year, I...

...will hopefully be doing something different.

13. Do you think the United States will elect a female President in your lifetime? Do you think this would be a good thing?

Yeah, why not? She can't be any more corrupt than the last few male ones. Unless she's Allison Taylor from 24. Or another Maggie...

14. Which fictional TV show character you would shag anytime?

Scully.

15. What is your greatest pet peeve?

Too broad a subject to narrow down to just one.

16 and 17 I've answered in previous memes, so let's make up my own?

16. Who was your favourite Doctor?

Tom Baker... though give Matt Smith another couple of years and I might have to change my answer. Always had a soft spot for Peter Davison too.

17. What's your favourite Madonna song?

Like A Prayer.

Probably.

18. Do you have a nickname? What is it?

"Oy, Fuck Face!"

19. What are you dreading at the moment?

A potential spine operation.

20. Do you worry that others will judge you from reading some of your answers?

People will judge me whatever I do.

21. In two words, explain what ended your last relationship.

It's a looooong time ago... but "different needs". I needed her, she needed her ex.

22. What were you doing this morning at 8am?

Sitting at this computer screen.

23. Do you have any famous relatives?

No. If I did, I'd be tapping them up for money.

24. How many different beverages have you drank today?

One cup of green tea and lots of water.

25. What is something you are excited about?

Retirement.

26. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group?

How large? I spoke in front of a smallish group of works experience types earlier this week. It's a while since I addressed a larger group, but I never have a problem with public speaking.

27. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?

"Shit. You again?"

28. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Sleeping.

29. What’s a word you say a lot?

Idiot.

30. Who is your worst enemy?

Agents, commissioning editors and Dr. Octopus.

30 Songs - Day 7

Day 07 - A Song That Reminds You Of A Certain Event

I haven't forgotten this ongoing musical meme, honestly. Sometimes there just aren't enough blogging days in the week.



I wasn't looking forward to Sunday the 31st of August, 1997. Back then I was working in radio promotions and had been tasked with organising a huge Party In The Park event with loads of shitty pre-X-Factor style boy and girl bands and a humongous crowd of listeners. Worse still, my manager had gone off on holiday and pretty much left me to it. I'd been dreading the event for weeks - so much could go wrong, and it'd all be on my head.

And then, in the early hours of the big day, a Mercedes S-280 crashed in the Pont de l'Alma tunnel in Paris and our event - and along with hundreds more all across the world - was cancelled. Much has been written about the ridiculous levels of public mourning following the death of Princess Diana, but while I bore the woman no ill will, I couldn't help but breath a huge sigh of relief at her timing.

Your Lucky Day In Hell was the third single from the Eels' debut album and many expected it to follow the previous two into the higher reaches of the chart. Unfortunately, it was released the day after Di's death, by which time it had been withdrawn from every playlist in the country as radio stations went into mass panic mode and started playing Elton John 24/7.

Go on, tell me you'd rather hear Candle In The Wind '97...

While Everyone Else Was Watching The Football...

...we went for a walk in the woods.



Despite what I was saying yesterday about not having enough time for all the things I want to do... the older I get, the more important I feel it is to take time to appreciate the beauty of the natural world.



I've written before about how privileged I feel to live in such a beautiful part of the world, surrounding by so much sublime, awe-inspiring countryside. And on days like the one pictured in these photos, it's a crime not to get out there and enjoy that countryside.






Over the last couple of weeks we've been hooked on the BBC's Springwatch programme. Chris Packham, Kate Humble and Simon King are my new heroes. You can feel their enthusiasm and genuine emotion about wildlife - birds, animals, fish, plants, even insects and seaweed. It's infectious. (I'm also impressed by how Packham in particular seems to be on a one-man campaign to make geekery cool.)



So what are you doing wasting your time stuck inside reading this stoopid blog? If the sun's shining on your part of the world today, get out there and appreciate it!

Paralysed By My Day Off

I had a day off on Tuesday, and for a moment I was paralysed. There was so much I wanted to do! Not concrete plans like a day trip to the seaside or even a film I wanted to catch at the cinema (I can't remember a time when I've been less inspired by the choice of movies on release). Some of it was just basic household chores - washing a blanket, cleaning the mildew from the porch. I knew I wanted to go for a walk as it was such a beautiful day - but where? Then there was my proofreading course, I really needed to sit down and do some more on that. Obviously there's about a million things I want to write too, not to mention all the books I have stacked up to read, a few weeks' worth of TV shows on the recorder, a bunch of CDs I haven't had time to listen to yet... the list goes on and on.

I've reached the point in my life where time seems to be speeding up and getting away from me. This hit me for another reason recently. I was looking at all the books on my bookcases, so many of which I'm keeping to read again "at a later date". Yet how often do I actually get the chance to reread old books - even firm favourites? Maybe once or twice a year. The rest of the time, I've always got something new to devour. The same goes for music. One of the reasons I force myself to compile those top ten music lists is that it makes me go back and rediscover random gems from my record collection I might otherwise forget all about.

This is all to do with growing old. When you're younger, even in your twenties, time stretches ahead of you like an endless motorway. There'll always be time to do all the things you want to do - in the future. How often do we put things off when we're young because there's always tomorrow? An infinity of tomorrows. I wrote earlier about how much time I wasted in my youth watching shit TV. I mean really shit TV. Even shitter than Knight Rider and Manimal. Not even enjoyably shit TV. Nowadays, TV shows have to have real value for me to bother with them - or else I have to be doing something else at the same time (making the tea, ironing etc.) so I don't feel like I'm squandering my time. Because it's just too valuable to waste when there's so much you want to do... and the clock's always ticking.

The ironic thing is, you only realise this as you get older. But I'm only 38, and maybe I've realised it younger than many. Time is limited, and there's so much to do. I'm going to try not to waste so much of it in future. Now if only I didn't have to waste so much of it at work...

Suzanne Vega At The Lowry

It's 25 years since the release of Suzanne Vega's eponymous debut album, a fact her manager apparently told her to keep quiet about on her latest tour. She doesn't comply. And why should she? It's something to be celebrated, with a selection of classic songs from that record (including Marlene On The Wall and Small Blue Thing) plus other greats from her impressive catalogue - Caramel, Frank & Ava, In Liverpool... and, of course, the twin behemoths of Tom's Diner and Luka.

Vega's voice sounds better than ever. Warm, rich and just like caramel itself, while she hardly seems to have aged from the waif like singer songwriter who dared to buck the mid-eighties trend of high-production sheen with her folky acoustic ways.

I've been a fan since the late 80s, yet this was the first chance I've had to enjoy Suzy V live and the Lowry Theatre was the perfect venue (and not just because I could sit down - no more standing gigs till my back is fixed, I'm afraid!) with impressive acoustics and a mature, well-behaved audience. Sadly she didn't play my favourite (99.9 °F), but she did persuade me that her new album of re-recordings will definitely be worth a listen. Some singers just get better...

Thoughtballoons - Doctor Doom

This week over at thoughtballoons we have our third villain in a row. But this one's the daddy!

Victor Von Doom first appeared in Fantastic Four #5 back in 1962. He swiftly became not only the arch-enemy of Reed Richards and his team, but also a thorn in the side of the rest of the Marvel Universe too. Doom is a scientific genius, cursed by his own arrogance and vanity. He is sovereign leader of the European nation of Latveria, which he rules with an iron fist. He's also skilled in the dark arts and has travelled through space and time in pursuit of his own nefarious ends. The most diabolical villain in comics, he's also the inspiration for Darth Vader... so don't mess with Doctor Doom.

You can check out my Doom story by clicking here. Be sure to read the other great scripts posted there too.

Next week... someone a little more heroic.

24 Tribute Top Ten

And so I bid fond farewell to another favourite TV show, as Jack Bauer finally hangs up his torture implements and gives his tonsils a rest from all that shouting... well, at least until the rumoured 24 movie anyway. (Wow, that'll be almost as long a film as Lord Of The Rings!)

24 started ridiculous, then went out of its way to get ever more so as the years progressed. It didn't so much jump the shark or nuke the fridge as torture the shark by cutting it up into small (yet still alive) pieces, stuff them into a fridge, nuke the whole of the country containing the fridge, then resurrect the shark only to poison it with anthrax, kills its family, connect its genitals to a car battery, and have its remains savaged by a mountain lion. Only then the shark would turn out to have been working for a fictional Middle Eastern country all along. Or was it?

But if you were willing to suspend your disbelief - your sheer incredulity - there was no more exciting, adrenaline-packed way of spending 18 hours (minus commercials) and in Jack Bauer we found another great hero for our times, one who could stand proud with Bond and Bourne as a man who would do anything... no, really, anything... to get the job done.

In tribute then, here's my Top Ten (musical) suggestions for what Jack can do next...




10. The House That Jack Built (Aretha Franklin)

Jack builds a house for his daughter Kim only to discover that all the builders are actually working for the Russian mob. When they kidnap Kim because there's a 'y' in the month and she hasn't been kidnapped this episode yet (surely some oversight!), Jack gets medieval on their eyelids with power tools and vinegary salad dressing.

9. Jumpin' Jack Flash (The Rolling Stones)

Jack is given his toughest assignment ever. He must jump up and down on the spot for 24 hours without pausing to eat, sleep, breathe or go weewee, whilst simultaneously flashing every passerby with Little Jack. If he doesn't complete his mission, Big Bird from Sesame Street , Count Duckula, and Hamble and Big Ted from Play School will be senselessly slaughtered. With a chainsaw. And sticklebricks.

8. Jack Singer (Ricky Ross)

Jack goes undercover on X-Factor. Simon Cowell finally gets what's coming to him.

7. Jack On Fire (Blanche)

Terrorists capture Jack and try to force him to complete their Rubix Cube. When he won't play ball they douse him with a mixture of nitroglycerin, magnesium and gasoline then set fire to his writhing, twitching, teeth-gritting body and watch it burn for 24 hours straight. After which Jack gets really pissed off and kicks their tonsils into orbit.

6. Jackhammer Blues (Woody Guthrie)

It's Jack... with a hammer. A fucking massive hammer. You can guess the rest.

5. Jack Names The Planets (Ash)

Jack thinks the planets in our solar system have very suspicious names. Mars? Jupiter? Neptune? It's all some damned Roman conspiracy! Then there's bloody Earth. What a shit name Earth is - why didn't they just call it Dirt and have done with it? Jack decides to deal with the problem once and for all by detonating eight planet-sized nukes (plus a tiny asteroid-sized nuke for Pluto, which might not actually be a planet anymore but still... "IT'S NAMED AFTER A DAMNED DISNEY DOG, CHLOE!") and starting the galaxy again from scratch. Luckily the wind is blowing eastwards that day so none of the nuclear fall-out affects him. Or anyone else we care about.

4. Jack Killed Mom (Jenny Lewis)

Your mum has information vital to stopping a terrorist attack on Mothercare and only Jack Bauer can get it out of her. I'm so very, very sorry.

3. Hit The Road, Jack (Ray Charles)

Jack goes on a road trip across America but is horrified by the state of the nation's highways. "DAMN IT, CHLOE - THERE'S JUST TOO MANY POTHOLES!" He solves the problem by pounding every single inch of tarmac from the east coast to the west with his own face until it's all levelled out and nobody will ever get a puncture again.

2. Smackwater Jack (Carole King)

Undercover CTU moles trick our hero into going back on smack (remember season 3?) but he soon discovers it has no effect on him whatsoever. It's like drinking a glass of aired water for someone as hard as Jack Bauer. So he decides to completely eliminate the drug trade by torturing every single addict in the world, one by one, with garden shears, pliers, and Ricky Martin records, until they're all as tough - and immune to everything - as he is.

1. Jack & Diane (John Mellencamp)

Jack uncovers the truth behind the conspiracy to murder Princess Diana, storms the palace with a sponge and a rusty spanner, bites off one of Charles's ears (it keeps him going for about a week), and gets savaged by a pack of the Queen's rabid corgis.

When Will There Be Good News?

I'm obviously a sucker for a title like that, even if I wasn't already a huge Kate Atkinson fan. A couple of novels ago, Kate fooled the book-buying world into believing she was a crime writer - a clever ruse since genre fiction tends to breed a devoted following and often sell more than the literary gems she was previously credited with.

This then is the third "Jackson Brodie adventure", though perhaps it would be more appropriate to call it the second "Louise Monroe adventure" as by now it's the Scottish DCI introduced in Atkinson's previous novel One Good Turn who's become the real star of this series. She's witty, she's short-tempered, she's extremely self-aware... and this time, for better or worse, she's married.

Joining Jackson and Louise in this third installment is another character I hope we'll see more of in the future, 16 year-old amateur sleuth Reggie Chase. In many ways she's the smartest cookie in the book, though not at all precocious, and a worthy addition to this dysfunctional family of detectives.

Atkinson's writing deviates from genre in two notable areas. Firstly the plotting. Although the novel begins with a gruesome murder, this isn't the crime we're charged with solving, merely an introduction to a couple of important characters. The central dramatic event is a train crash, though that's an accident not a crime. Indeed, for a large part of the book we're left wondering just what we're actually investigating. It's not so much a whodunit as a whodunwhat... though just as gripping.

Secondly, the writing. It's not formulaic, neither is it self-consciously literary. The omniscient narrative follows multiple perspectives, sometimes leaping from one character's mind to another's mid-chapter. The writing - and thinking - is extremely conversational - at times almost frustratingly colloquial. Occasionally I found myself wishing some of her characters wouldn't speak with so many cliches... not novelistic cliches, but the kinds of dull cliches we use in everyday life. It's very real, but sometimes you want your heroes to speak the way you only wish you could.

A small criticism of an otherwise hugely entertaining novel. When Will There Be Good News? As soon as Atkinson releases book 4.

Spandex 2 - Pink Ninjas

Martin Eden is a tease.

When he released the first issue of his colourful, camp gay superheroes comic Spandex, he warned us we'd have to wait quite some time before we saw them again. Then something unexpected happened. Something really quite wonderful. The kind of thing your average small press creator can only dream of. The world went Spandex crazy. It began with a simple press release... and before he knew it Martin was being interviewed by newspapers, websites, TV and radio shows all around the world. Spandex wasn't strictly the world's first gay superhero comic, but it may well have been the first to market itself as such, and that was just the kind of hook journos love. That said, the success of Spandex isn't merely down to novelty value and smart advertising - none of that would matter if the comic wasn't also loads of fun... and fortunately, that's exactly what it is.

So here we have issue 2, much earlier than planned, and even more fun than the first one. Yes, there are pink ninjas. Yes, there's camp humour, bitchiness and sarcasm. Yes, this is a mature readers book, so you do get to see in cartoon detail the problems caused by excitement to the male member when dressed in skintight spandex. But there's also a depth of characterisation that will be familiar to readers of Martin's other classic superhero comic, The O Men, and there's the beginnings of some sneaky plot machinations that bode very well for the future. Plus Martin's art looks better than ever in dayglo colour. I really hope the success he's enjoyed so far is just the beginning.

Find out more about Spandex and order your own copy here.

June Listening

Where the Indelicates meet Meat Loaf... it's a scary place to live!

Been a while since I did a post on what's filling up my music player at the moment, so here's a quick run-through of some of the tracks that are keeping me from driving off the road on my way to work...



Frank Turner is the best new artist I've discovered this year. Not that he's particularly new, he was originally singer with 'post-hardcore' band Million Dead. I've not heard anything by them, but I guess they were pretty heavy. Around four years ago he went solo, reinventing himself as an angry, lyrically-charged and politicised singer-songwriter, half Billy Bragg, half Springsteen. He's released a number of albums since then, but his most recent, Poetry Of The Deed seems to be the one that's breaking him. It features the semi-hit single The Road, which was enough to convince me to buy the album... and the song above, Try This At Home, which was enough to convince me to buy his entire back catalogue.

Because the only thing that punk-rock should ever really mean
Is not sitting round and waiting for the lights to turn green
And not thinking that you're better 'cause you're stood up on a stage
If you're oh, so fucking different then who cares what you have to say?

'Cause there's no such thing as rockstars there's just people who play music
And some of them are just like us and some of them are dicks
So, quick turn off your stereo; pick up that pen and paper
Yeah, you can do much better than some skinny half-arsed English country singer...

Although I adored the Courteeners debut album, St. Jude, I'd been discouraged from buying the follow-up Falcon after a lacklustre live show at Christmas convinced me their lead singer was a bit of an arse. Still, it's only a fiver now, so I thought I'd give it a go. Glad I did. Liam Fray may have flunked the entrance exam for the Liam Gallagher School Of Humility, but he still writes far better lyrics than those Oasis boys ever managed. A welcome surprise.



My front runner for Album Of The Year continues to show no sign of wilting. Like all classic records, you peel off another layer of intrigue every time you hear it. More diverse in style than their debut, it boasts a lyrical and musical confidence that few other bands have demonstrated in the 21st century, and the fact that it's not been number one on the album chart for the last ten weeks... and it's been all but ignored by the music press... just goes to show. What it shows, I'm not entirely sure, but it's a damning indictment of something.

Because you'll never take enough of those pills
Yeah, you're too clever to be mentally ill
You'll never fashion your damaged soul
Because you're too clever to lose control...

Remember, you can download both albums by the Indelicates here - and choose for yourself exactly how much you want to pay for them. Whatever you decide, it won't be enough.



Normally when I confess my love of classic Meat Loaf, I'm all about praising the Wagnerian genius of Jim Steinman, his songwriter and collaborative loon from the days of Bat Out Of Hell, Dead Ringer et al. Sadly Meat and Stein haven't worked together in getting on for 15 years now, so when I talk about the new album Hang Cool, Teddy Bear - it's all about the Meat.

The truth is, much as I love him, Meat hasn't released a great album since he fell out with Jimbo. And sadly, Hang Cool changes nothing . It's full of overblown nonsense in search of a tune, and I wouldn't recommend it to any but the most diehard Meat fan. That said, as with previous Jimless records, there's usually one or two tracks that make it worthwhile, and this time that's down to lead single Los Angeloser. It's a work of Elvis-In-Vegas camp OTT genius, as is the video. This is music as pure entertainment, and if it doesn't make you at least crack a smile, there's no hope for you, daddy-o!



The laziest slacker in music, Evan Dando, quietly released a new Lemonheads album last year, but it came as no surprise that he couldn't be arsed to write any new songs for it. Instead, he plumped for that time-honoured tradition of lazy slacker songwriters everywhere: the covers album. A fine selection of re-interpretations they are too, including Townes Van Zandt's Waiting Round To Die, Wire's Fragile, Leonard Cohen's Hey, That's No Way To Say Goodbye and Tim Hardin's How Can We Hang On To A Dream? There are a couple of misfires: a bizarre stab at Dutch electronica (Dirty Robot, featuring Kate Moss on vocals) and Christina Aguilera's Beautiful, which has already been covered by everyone from Clem Snide to Elvis Costello to our cat Murphy. But they're more than made up for by the song above, Layin' Up With Linda, originally recorded by shock punk GG Allin (and if you want to know what I mean by 'shock punk', wikipedia him... but only if you've got a strong stomach). It's one of those songs that hooks in your head on first listen, and it's perfect for the Evan Dando growl.



You know when you start properly listening to an artist and you wonder how you ever survived without them? When's the last time that happened to you? For me, it was a couple of weeks ago when I finally got round to buying the first 3 homemade albums by Superman Revenge Squad (you can order all three here for just £2.50 each + 50p p&p - another bargain). The track above explains exactly why he's making music, and why you should be buying it.



Hoyt Axton is perhaps most famous as Zach Galligan's dad in Gremlins. But long before that he was a successful songwriter, penning hits for Three Dog Night (Joy To The World), John Denver, Steppenwolf, Ringo Starr and others. Probably the most famous track he recorded himself was Della and The Dealer, a song I remember hearing Terry Wogan play regularly before the radio went arrogantly ginger. It's a little nugget of country genius, and I can't get enough of it.

It's Coming Home...

I've been out the last few nights snapping England flags off the cars in my neighbourhood till I've collected enough to build a huge patriotic footballing bonfire. You may feel this is childish, peevish, yobbish vandalism... and you would probably be correct. However, I do like to feel that I'm doing my bit to redress the balance. The way I see it, if I don't do it... who will? The majority of your ordinary, everyday vandals are likely to be football fans too, willing to suppress their destructive urges in celebration of their glorious game. (Well, at least until the inevitable happens, after which it'll be open season on any symbol that reminds them of their slaughtered dreams.)

You may also feel that the above paragraph contains a sweeping generalisation based around the premise that all football fans are yobs and vice versa. You would definitely be correct in that... however, in my defence, I've been the victim of many a sweeping generalisation from football fans all my life. Such as the generalisation that as a male of the species, I should automatically be interested in their precious sport. "Did you see the game last night?" "Looking forward to the match this weekend?" "What do you reckon to Rooney's chances on Saturday?" And the generalisation that when I express the opinion that I really couldn't give a monkey's left testicle... then there really is summat wrong with me.

Football fans are also among the first to make sweeping generalisations about my own alternative entertainment choices. They'll decide that because I read comics I'm some sad, loser geek. OK, so they're not exactly wrong about that. They'll think that because I like Morrissey I'm some morose, bequiffed misanthrope. OK, so that's a bad example too. Actually, maybe there is something to this sweeping generalisation business after all? A stereotype doesn't become a stereotype unless it's got a large dollop of truth mixed in... isn't that right, my hooligan brethren?

With that in mind, I'll be out again tonight (and tomorrow, between 8-30 and 11pm) snapping off those England flags for all I'm worth. Doing my bit for universal harmony. Because, after all, if I drove around with a huge Spider-Man mask sticking out the top of my sunroof, I'd expect you to do the same for me. Oh, and if you choose to challenge me on my behaviour, please don't try that old "where's your patriotic spirit?" bullshit, because I guarantee that won't get you anywhere. There's nothing even remotely patriotic about your little tribal gut-kicking contest, and just because you wear a red cross on your chest it hardly makes you St. George, now does it? Go out and slay some dragons or something, by jingo! Then we'll talk.

You may feel angry after reading this post... but then, football fans never did have much of a sense of humour. Of course, that might just be another sweeping generalisation... I'm willing to be proved wrong.

The Just Because Meme

Another meme stolen from Sunday Stealing...

1. Make a list of 5 things you can see without getting up.

I'm not in bed. Oh, do you mean without getting up from my chair? I can see... a Spider-Man mask, an Iron Man 2 mousemat, a large bottle of Evian that I bought new yesterday because the one I'd been drinking out of the last few weeks had green slime growing in the bottom, two leopard postcards and a Dilbert cartoon about friends.

2. How do you style your hair? How often do you cut it?

I wet it, brush it back with my hands and apply a small amount of gel. It needs cutting every six weeks or so, it grows very fast.

3. What are you wearing now?

A brown swirly-patterned, short-sleeved shirt, brown cords, black trainer/boot/shoes.

4. What's your occupation? Do you like it?

Filling the world with bile and garbage. No.

5. When was the last time you took a nap? Was there a special reason?

Can't remember. I was tired?

6. Who was the last person you hugged romantically?

Louise.

Ooh, look, number 7 is missing - let's make up our own number 7...

7. What's your favourite Abba song?



Although I prefer the cover by The Real Tuesday Weld.

8. What was the last full meal you ate?

Define "full meal"? You mean more than the sandwich I had for lunch or the porridge I had for breakfast.

That would be last night's tea - moussaka with petit pois, followed by blueberries and Greek yoghurt for dessert.

9. What was the last email you received?

Very dull.

10. What one website do you always visit when you go online?

This one.

11. What was the last significant thing you bought?

Again, define "significant"? If you mean "significant in value", that would have to be our house, which we'll be paying for forever.

12. What musical artist did you not get at first, but then became a fan?

Morrissey.

13. What did you think about before you went to bed last night?

Writing. The BBC Springwatch programme. Charlie Brooker's cynicism.

14. What was the last CD you bought?

Falcon by the Courteeners and Hang Cool, Teddy Bear by Meat Loaf.

15. What is your favorite weather, and why? What's the weather like today?

I like varied weather. If it stays one way for too long, I get bored / annoyed. Today is grey.

16. If you could have a special artistic talent, what would it be?

To be able to write more successfully.

Oh, look, question 17 has something to do with some US reality TV show I wouldn't even watch even if I lived in the states... let's replace it with something else.

17. How many tablets do you take a day?

Four. Two painkillers for my back, a cod liver oil capsule and a milk thistle capsule.

18. What's something you'd like to say to someone right now?

"Fuck off and leave me alone."

19. Any special plans for this weekend?

I wanted to see Nicolas Cage's Bad Lieutenant but it doesn't seem to be on anymore. I will instead be watching the 24 Finale. Say goodnight, Jack.

20. Besides your current S/O, who was the last person that you loved romantically?

Jessica Rabbit.



Feel free, etc. etc.

Thoughtballoons - Mephisto

This week's thoughtballoons character, as chosen by Brandon, is Mephisto. The Marvel Universe is full of gods - from many different pantheons (Greek, Norse, African etc.) - so it makes perfect sense that it'd also have its fair share of devils. Mephisto is quite possibly the baddest of the bad. Not only has he made a career out of torturing the likes of Daredevil, Thor and the Silver Surfer, but he's also the one responsible for the controversial dissolution and erasing of Peter Parker's marriage to Mary Jane Watson (yes, Kelvin, it really was Mephisto - not Joephisto!). Like many literary devils, he likes nothing more than a good deal. Which is what I've based my own 1-page Mephisto story around. Tell me, how would you respond to an offer like this?

As always, I encourage you to check out the other great Mephisto stories from my fellow thoughtballoners. He's a character who opens up a myriad of evil story possibilities...

Top Ten Haircut Songs

Thanks to Penelope, I've started work on a new Top Ten Music feature... yet it's rather spiralled out of control and might take a little more work than these countdowns normally do. In the meantime, I'll keep up with the random playlists... this one's for anybody who's had a new haircut this week.

Special mention goes to Nick Heyward, the nicest popstar I ever met, and Haircut 100. Where do we go from here? Is it down to the lake, I fear...

Runners up included SFA's Ice Hockey Hair, Mercury Rev's Car Wash Hair, The Charlatans' Jesus Hairdo and Half Man Half Biscuit's tragic Hair Like Bryan May Blues...

But these, in my humble opinion, are the dos that most definitely do.

10. George Thorogood - Get A Haircut

"...and get a real job!"

Sage advice from George T. Pity I never took it.

9. Tracie Young - Boy Hairdresser

I think it was JC, The Vinyl Villain who introduced me to Tracie Young, probably because I wasn't paying enough attention during her brief 15 minutes back in 1984. This song was co-written by Paul Weller and seemed set to spur her on to stardom, particularly when she was voted Most-Fanciable Female by the readers of Smash Hits. Sadly, twas not to be.

8. The Waifs - Haircut

The Waifs are an Australian band I really must investigate in more depth. They're darker underneath...

7. Pavement - Cut Your Hair

Scruffy bunch of American indie scalliwags with not a decent haircut between 'em. Shave 'em all and send 'em in the army - 'specially Malkmus!

6. Jim White - Combing My Hair In A Brand New Style

"He used a blue hair comb with a busted tooth
To comb out the tangles of his messed-up youth."

If only it was that easy.

5. The Divine Comedy - Bernice Bobs Her Hair

Her hair was long
Her hair was dark
Her hair flowed down her back
And now it lies upon the floor
Bernice runs out the door

None on her head, just down her back, as the old Eric Morecambe gag goes.

4. Beck - Devil's Haircut

Beck updates Stagger Lee and introduces him to 90s consumerism via a Noel Gallager remix.

3. Regina Spektor - Samson

Ah, Regina Spektor, whatever happened? Begin To Hope was such a perfect album... why did its follow-up, Far, leave me so cold? Who cut your hair in between records?

2. Morrissey - Hairdresser On Fire

Poor old Morrissey, even his hairdresser's too busy to see him. Apparently there are barber shops in both Connecticut and Copenhagen named after this song.

1. Billy Bragg - Walk Away Renée

With Johnny Marr playing the tune of The Left Banke's 60s hit as backing, Billy makes up his own heartbreaking lyrics - a short story of young love doomed by infidelity and haircuts. Perfect.



So go on then, what's your favourite haircut song?

Our Tragic Universe

Meg is a writer of formulaic genre fiction and newspaper book reviews who harbours dreams of a proper, serious, literary novel... but deletes more than she keeps. She's obsessed with the idea of a storyless story, of breaking away from the archetypal plot structures that define the majority of successful fiction and finding something "super-authentic and with so much emotional truth that none of it seems like a story at all". When given a pop-science book about the potential resurrection of everyone who's ever lived at the end of the universe, Meg at first scorns the concept... but then begins to look at ways of incorporating it into her novel. Meanwhile, a number of other stories are happening all around her. A wild, wolf-like beast is terrorising Dartmoor. An old acquaintance stands on the verge of Hollywood stardom via Anna Karenina. Meg's whiny boyfriend Christopher is doing her nut in, and the older man she secretly fancies is giving her very confusing signals. All her friends are having affairs, a mysterious ship in a bottle washes up on the beach, and knitting socks is far more difficult than it looks.

Has Scarlett Thomas succeeded where Meg seems unable? Is Our Tragic Universe a truly storyless story? It certainly comes close. It feels real and "super-authentic" - so much so, I wondered just how much was autobiographical. It contains a great deal of "emotional truth", the kind that has you thinking about your own life and the decisions that shape it. And it doesn't feel much like a story... at all. Yet it has the page-turnery drive of a thriller even though very little happens. And as anyone who's read Thomas's earlier books (The End Of Mr. Y, Popco, Going Out, Bright Young Things) will know, this writer has a style that sucks you in and swallows you whole. Not for everyone then, but for anyone who likes to think from time to time.

Richard Curtis... All Is Forgiven

After the genius of Blackadder, the crimes of Richard Curtis live on in infamy. The Vicar of Dibley. Mr. Bean. Love Actually. Culminating in the most woefully disappointing film of last year, The Boat That Rocked... it really seemed like there was no way back for him.

So I wasn't looking forward to last night's Doctor Who. Particularly as the Moffat/Smith Who resurrection has been so consistently strong till now, finally realising the potential this show had so often squandered under Russell T. Davies. The last thing I'd expected was the most emotional piece of mainstream telly I've seen in many a year.

Manipulatively sentimental? You could say that. If you were more of a cynic than me. (If you are more of a cynic than me, I pity you, I really do.) The last 15 minutes of last night's Doctor Who had me fighting back tears the whole way. I'm not entirely sure I can put into words just why... but that's never stopped me before. Firstly, the idea of an artist who spends his whole life feeling unappreciated finally, for one brief moment, getting to see how that will change after his death. Secondly, the loneliness of Van Gogh himself (brilliantly brought to life by Tony Curran). Loneliness as a theme that always gets to me. I keep coming back to that quote from Mother Teresa, "the most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved". And that was a woman who'd seen poverty in all its forms. Finally, the idea that the Doctor and Amy not only give Vincent a few fleeting moments of friendship, happiness, and accomplishment... but that by doing so, may even have hastened his eventual suicide. Who knows how a bipolar personality would respond to being shown what the Doctor showed Vincent? That's the real sting in this tale.

So, thank you Richard Curtis. And thank you Steven Moffat, for the rehabilitation of Richard Curtis. Perhaps that dreaded Neil Gaiman episode will turn out OK after all...

Death Of A Salesman

Considering all the years I've spent in this terrible, terrible occupation, it should come as little surprise to anyone that one of my favourite plays is Arthur Miller's Death Of A Salesman. If he'd ever written a sequel - say Torture & Mutilation Of A Salesman, I'd have been its biggest fan. But the truth is I loved DOAS long before I began swimming with sharks. It's one of those plays they get you to study in High School, and rightly so. In many ways it's a cautionary tale about the danger of ambition, and about pursuing a career based solely around the acquisition of wealth and material possessions when, obviously, true happiness lies elsewhere. Willie Loman isn't a likeable hero, but he is a hugely sympathetic one - especially as portrayed by the superb Philip Jackson in the recent production at the West Yorkshire Playhouse.

It's a good few years since I last saw Death Of A Salesman, but this time it really kicked me in the balls. Perhaps it's the sort of play that hurts more as you get older, or perhaps this was just a really powerful production. Willy Loman is a man whose whole life is built around the self-delusion that he is popular, that he is successful, that he is "well-liked"... when in truth he's a man long past his prime, if he ever really had one. How long can such a man continue to fool his family, his friends - even (especially) himself? It makes you question your own sense of self. I never consider myself particularly "well-liked", I certainly never consider myself any kind of success... but there are many other ways in which we fool ourselves about our worth in this world, or how others see us.

I cried at the end of this performance, but was I crying for Willie Loman... or all of us?

Holiday Catch-Up

Honestly, I take a few days off and everything happens! Lost finishes. Denis Hopper and Gary Coleman die. Jack Bauer goes off the deep end. So much to blog about, so little time...

I did consider adding to the morass that's doubtless already been scrawled in online blood and viscera about the last Lost, but in the end I prefer to let it stand. As far as I'm concerned, they delivered. I found it was a hugely satisfying conclusion both in terms of narrative and emotion. I can't imagine a more rewarding wrap-up, taking into account everything that's gone before. Yes, I could pick. I could niggle that this character or that didn't get the attention they deserved. I could wonder where Mr. Eko was (he wanted too much money?) but where would it get me? More than any other show, the Lost finale could so easily have fallen flat or failed to perform. It didn't. It made the whole journey feel worthwhile.

(See? That's me not saying anything and letting it stand.)



On from that, a few more highlights... and lowlights... from our holiday. Let's start with the underwhelming: Aira Force. Billed as the most famous of the Lake District waterfalls, a 20 minute hike led us through a pleasant forest of pine till we reached...

This.



I've seen a fair few waterfalls in my day, in all parts of the country. I love a good waterfall. But generally I expect a little more than a giant wee. For an area as breathtakingly impressive as the Lakes, I expected more from Aira Force. Maybe we just caught it on a bad day.

Far more impressive were the quartet of ducklings we encountered getting swimming lessons from their mum in Dovedale, Derbyshire. It's not that clear from the pictures, but they had to work their way upstream - a mini-waterfall that was in its own way far less disappointing than Aira Force - yet despite their tiny size and the speed of the river, they all managed... to cheers from the gathered spectators.




One curiosity we encountered both in the Peaks and the Lakes was the Log O' Coins. A large tree trunk at the side of the path with loads of 10 and 2p coins hammered into it... for no reason I could divine. If you've ever encountered such a spectacle, perhaps you know the why. Is it a good luck thing (a wooden wishing well)? Or something far more sinister...? Where's Mulder and Scully when you need them?



The guest house we stayed at in the Peaks was truly idyllic. The weather helped, of course, but taking afternoon tea and scones in the garden was like something from a dream... or Alice In Wonderland, minus the insanity.



But the real highlight of our week away was a little furry blighter called Dinky. Last time we visited this particular part of the Lakes, we met some very tame and friendly deer. On popping down to visit them again (they eat grass out of your hand), we found something even cuter. A newborn donkey. Again, the photos just don't do him justice - but sadly, this is as close as we could get.

Thoughtballoons - Molecule Man

This week's Thoughtballoons character, as chosen by Ben, is Owen Reece aka the Molecule Man. First appearing in Fantastic Four #20 back in 1963, Reece is a supervillain who can control molecules... which means he can do just about anything, if you think about it. That probably explains why he hasn't been used very much over the years - how do you stop someone with power over everything? Originally, Stan Lee gave him a mental block on using his powers on organic matter, but once he got over that Reece became more unstoppable than ever. Back in the 80s Jim Shooter tried to fix the character by making him a put-upon nerd rather than a genuinely evil man. He was dangerous because he was angry and lonely and scared, but he could usually be talked down from doing anything too drastic... especially when he found love.

I have a bit of a problem with characters who are too powerful - hence why I never really got into Superman. Molecule Man is like Superman x 10 though, and I took that as the starting point of my story. How do you stop a man who can do anything? Maybe you can't.

You can check out my Molecule Man 1-page story by clicking here. Take a few minutes to read the other guys' stories too, particularly Matt's - if you're a They Might Be Giants fan.

Woke Up Screaming

I woke up screaming last night. Have you ever done that? I guess I must have been having some kind of nightmare, but I have no memory of it, not even a lingering sketch. All I do remember is lying there on my back, a screaming moan in my chest, repeating three times until I finally forced myself awake. I was aware I was asleep, aware I was screaming, but for a few terrifying seconds there was nothing I could do to stop it. I wanted to wake up but I couldn't. It was awful. Still, perfectly understandable, I suppose. Yesterday was my first day back at work after my holiday. That's enough to make anybody scream.

It freaks me out sometimes the things you do when you're asleep. I've never sleepwalked (that I remember), but I do recall one time we were on holiday, staying in a little cottage in Cornwall, and I woke in the morning to find the pillow missing from my bed. It was over by the door, wedged underneath as though I'd been trying to stop poison gas getting in or something.

What's the weirdest thing you've done in your sleep? Come on, make me feel a little better at least...