Going South (6): Miscellanea

A final collection of photos from our incredible journey to Wiltshire, Dorset and The South, a land where dogs drive 4x4s...

Where the Bastard Brothers are kind to their sisters...

Where black sheep graze a giant chalk penis...

Where owls and vultures prowl...

Where you always have to keep an eye out for tanks crossing....

And where the sparrows pose for photos.

Thanks to everyone in The South for welcoming us during our holiday and not shooting us for being ignorant northerners.

My Week On The Web

On The Mixtape Lives On this week I played more songs about teachers from The Smiths, Leonard Cohen, The Trashcan Sinatras and Madness. I was also Keeping It Peel with Billy Bragg and agreed with Half Man Half Biscuit that Hell Is Other People (in French). I also saluted one of my favourite albums of the year and the greatest recorded ever recorded.

Over at Thoughtballoons, I chose this week's character: my ultimate cartoon hero, Wile E. Coyote. Read my 1-page story here.

Elsewhere on the web this week...

There's a nasty Halloween story from Steve Green's Twisted Quill...

Rob started making Halloween masks (collect them all!)...

Larissa from Condemned To Rock & Roll returned to the blogosphere and launched a new music blog with her friend Laura, From A High Horse.

Nobody wants to play paintball with The Punisher...

Two legends of the music blogosphere finally meet face to face...

The Sagittarian snaps flying teddies in NZ...

And Chris meets some interesting people on the bus.

Anyone Can Be An Olympic Hero

So the Olympic Games are coming to the UK (in case you hadn't heard) and the Olympic Torch is currently touring the British Isles, held aloft by the great and good, sportsmen and women of the highest calibre... and even those who were always rubbish at games.

Yep, that's me holding the actual Olympic Torch following its arrival in Huddersfield on Thursday for the University of Huddersfield Open Day where I was working as a social media rep for the day. Sadly the torch wasn't lit, which may have been down to health & safety considerations (let's face it, if anyone was likely to burn themselves on the Olympic Torch, it'd be me); may have been because of the miserable Huddersfield rain; or may just have been because the official "lit torch" tour doesn't begin till next year. Still, it's the real deal - the one held by Seb Coe, Daley Thompson... all the famous athletes (including the ones from after the 1980s), even that kid out of This Is England.

If only my old games teacher could see me now. And he said I couldn't even kick a ball straight! He was right, but maybe that's what the Olympic spirit is all about... for five seconds, holding that torch, anyone can be a sporting hero. Eat your heart out, David Beckham. No, please. I'd pay Man U ticket prices to watch you do that. I'd even provide the fork.

(Update - and now, thanks to Chev, one with the torch actually aflame...)

Book Review: Rivers of London by Ben Aaronovitch

Police Constable Peter Grant responds to an incident involving a headless corpse in Covent Garden and finds himself taking a witness statement from an 18th century ghost. As soon as Grant's 6th sense becomes apparent to his superiors, the hapless plod finds himself paired with Detective Inspector Thomas Nightingale, the Met's only remaining wizard. Together they investigate a mystery that connects the dark origins of Punch & Judy to the warring sprites in charge of the capital's waterways.

Magical realism is obviously big business in the publishing world these days, but it's always a tricky proposition for me as a reader. Aaronovitch is pitching this novel to the adult end of the Harry Potter audience, there's a little too much horror and bad language for kids, yet personally I'd have preferred Rivers Of London to have even more edge. There are some great ideas here, the best of which wouldn't have been out of place in Vertigo's Hellblazer - though John Constantine would have made short work out of this rambling mystery. The author's attempts to portray magic as a pseudo-science also left me cold. Attempting to explain wizardry as a dark cousin of physics or chemistry just seemed to take away the magic.

I'm probably not the target audience though. I was never much of a JK Rowling fan and I prefer my horror a little more visceral. And real. If fantasy's more your thing, you might want to give Rivers Of London a go. Because Peter Grant and Thomas Nightingale will definitely be back...

Keeping It Peel: My Top Ten John Peel Songs

Today is the day we celebrate the great John Peel, without whom all our record collections would be much the sadder. Find out more about Keeping It Peel here. Over on The Mixtape Lives On, I'm playing one of my favourite Peel sessions. And here at SOS... it's my Top Ten Songs About John Peel.

10. CLSM - John Peel Is Not Enough

9. Jeffrey Lewis - The Legend Of The Fall

DJ John Peel says they're his favourite band
Because they're always different and always the same.

8. James - Ten Below

I'm at the bottom of my bed
Headphones on my head
John Peel's show
Feels like ten below

7. Television Personalities - Part-Time Punks

Then they go to Rough Trade to buy Siouxsie & the Banshees
They heard John Peel play it just the other night

6. Helen Love - John Peel Roadshow

And I gotta give my demo to John Peel
I hope he loves my band
And I gotta give my demo to John Peel
I hope he understands

5. Carter USM - Rubbish

"What do you think of the programme so far?"

4. Mitch Benn - A Minute's Noise For John

He soundtracked all our misspent youths
From Teenage Kicks to Home Truths...

3. Bis - We Love John Peel

2. Paul Burch - John Peel

Now he spent time in Dallas
And he told a tall tale
Met John & Jackie on the campaign trail
And he was there in the room
When Oswald was led away
Newsreel footage, taken at the scene
Oswald and Peel 11/24/63

It's time to fold the tent
The empire's no more
Tell your majesty it's over
John Peel sailed on

1. Shirley Lee - An Old Cricketer

Live Review: Glen Campbell's Farewell Tour

It's long been my dream to see my all time favourite song performed live by the singer who made it famous. Friday at the Salford Lowry was my last chance to make that dream a reality. Unlike many "Farewell Tours" where you suspect the artist may well be "quitting" only to sell more tickets (before next year's inevitable "reunion tour"), Glen Campbell really will be hanging up his mike and guitar once this tour is done. You may have read how the 75 year-old star, famous in his younger days for his baby-faced looks and country choirboy vocals, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's late last year. His return to the road is seen by many as not just a farewell to fans but also a brave effort to publicise a disease which celebrities rarely make public.

It's clear when Campbell takes to the stage that this is not a man in the prime of health. Although joyful and enthusiastic, he does at times appear confused and his legendary guitar playing is no longer at its flawless best. Fortunately he's supported by a band that includes three of his kids: Cal, Ashley and Shannon (Instant People) who help keep him focused throughout the show. And what a show... all the hits that made him famous (many composed by the divine Jimmy Webb), topped off by a showstopping, standing ovation double bill of Wichita Lineman and Rhinestone Cowboy. It was impossible not to be moved to tears by the former, a song that's meant so much to me for so many years and now sounds more bittersweet than ever.

I've added Wichita Lineman to The Mixtape today, but here's the opening single from Glen's final album, a track which echoes the soaring string arrangements of his greatest hit yet also speaks movingly of his current condition. Be well, Glen Campbell. Thank you for the music.

Movie Review - Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy

Do you remember that old 70s TV sketch (I thought it was The Two Ronnies, but the internet is letting me down) where two spies meet on a park bench and speak in ever-more ridiculous code phrases? "The cuckoo flies backwards over the windmill at midnight." Despite the absence of such corny tropes, I couldn't quite take the latest adaptation of Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy seriously. Everyone involved tried very hard to convince me, but the cuckoo got lost in the dark.

I've never read John Le Carre's classic spy novel, nor do I remember the 70s TV version starring Alec Guinness. I can't help but imagine both told this story with less clunk. Characters forced to spout whole chapters of exposition in one speech, flashbacks upon flashbacks upon flashbacks, a myriad of meaningful glances from the top drawer of scenery chewing thesps... and still I had little clue what was actually going on.

And though the cast is undeniably talented, hardly anyone stands out. In the central role as retired master spy George Smiley, Gary Oldman gives Ewan McGregor a run for his money in the "Who can do the best Alec Guinness impersonation?" stakes. Mark Strong gives good hangdog. Tom Hardy looks like Terry from Minder. Colin Firth is way too slimy to be trusted. Toby Jones barks in Scottish. Benedict Cumberbatch tones down the Holmesian kookiness. John Hurt is John Hurt. Only Kathy Burke really impresses as a former secretary denied access to her secrets and missing the bad old days. The period detail is excellent though, I definitely felt like I'd been transported back to 1973. What a grey, dismal and depressing year that was. I'm glad I was only 1.

Going South (5): Dorchester Dinosaur Musem

Have you noticed how high tech a lot of museums and tourist attractions are becoming these days. They're not content unless they're bursting to the seems with 3D computer simulations, interactive holograms, teleporters and Hadron Colliders. Not like when I were a lad when museums were all "Do Not Touch" signs, plastic replicas of squirrel droppings and dusty fossils. Having said that, sometimes I long for the simple times. It's like Doctor Who. The modern day monsters might be impressively realistic CGI creations but there's still nothing as scary as a dustbin with a sink plunger on top. Maybe our imaginations worked a little harder back in them days...

All of which brings us to the next stop on our journey south, the Dorchester Dinosaur Museum - where the ancient relics are more than just the skulls of sabre toothed tigers and woolly mammoth tusks. Many of the exhibits here transported me back in time not just to the Jurassic Age, but to the museums of my youth, before everything came with bells, whistles and flashing lights to grab our attention deficient youth. (What a fogey I must sound. Isn't it ace?)

That's not to say this museum was entirely without audio visual or interactive elements. For the former, there was a video of Jurassic Park on continuous loop. And for the latter... who needs computer games when you've got red plastic plates? Simply press the "button" to reveal the answer...

They certainly kept me entertained. Well, them and the huge plastic dinosaur that greeted us as we arrived...

Bard On A Wire: Othello vs. McNulty

As a big fan of The Wire, the chance to see Jimmy McNulty take on Lester Freamon in the Crucible's recently concluded production of Othello was one I couldn't miss. But much as Lester was my favourite character in that show and Clarke Peters' Othello was convincingly regal, it was Dominic West's Iago who stole this show, bringing a much-needed levity to one of Shakespeare's darkest tragedies.

The Wire gave us ample evidence that nobody plays the lovable rogue as well as Dominic West, an actor who even managed to make serial killer Fred West frighteningly likable in ITV's recent drama, Appropriate Adult. Those two roles also demonstrated West's versatile voice: from a pitch perfect Irish Baltimore cop to a demonically charming West Country bumpkin-psychopath (not to mention his public school RP 50s newsreader in The Hour): this guy does accents better than most. Back in his native Sheffield though, West chose to play Iago for the hometown crowd as a conniving Yorkshireman. This was Iago for the Full Monty generation, a hilarious portrayal that won the audience's affiliation early on, leaving little sympathy for Othello. It didn't help that Peters chose to distance the Moor further by playing him as an increasingly pompous Spanish Jack Sparrow, with an accent straight off the Fast Show's Chanel Neus. It may just be my poor hearing, but many key lines were lost to the acento.

Nevertheless, this was still a powerful and hugely entertaining performance. Strong support was given by Alexandra Gilbreath as Iago's conflicted wife, Emilia, and Lily James as Desdemona. Thanks to West, this was one of the funniest Shakespeares I've ever seen, showing just how much room for interpretation there is in these texts. That said, I was left wondering if a better title for this production might actually have been 'Iago'. Everybody loves a rotter.

Top Ten Mixtape Songs

To launch my new music blog, The Mixtape Lives On, I've been counting down my favourite songs about mixtapes. Here's the Top Ten...

(Click the links to hear the songs and read more about them.)

10. Mixtape by Tift Merritt.

9. Song For A Mixtape by The Ataris

8. Mixtape by Jamie Cullum (yes, I said Jamie Cullum)

7. Erase & Rewind by The Cardigans

6. Mixtape by Brand New

5. I Believe (When I Fall In Love) by Stevie Wonder

4. It Started With A Mixx by Los Campesinos!

3. Dedicated To The One I Love by The Mamas & The Papas

2. On Tape by The Pooh Sticks

1. C30 C60 C90 Go! By Bow Wow Wow

Next up - songs about teachers. Go to the top of the class at The Mixtape Lives On.

My Week On The Web

My new comic Too Much Sex & Violence #1 is out now. I'll be giving it an official launch here on SOS soon, but if you'd like to pick up a copy before then, go here now.

Over on The Mixtape Lives On this week, I finished up my list of songs about mixtapes. I'll be counting down the top ten here shortly. I also discovered an excellent new record by Cosmo Jarvis, unearthed a free download EP from LaFaro, The Plea and Ash, and dedicated a song to my right hand man, Davey Metcalfe.

Elsewhere on the web...

The Poet-Laura-eate went slamming in Cheltenham...

Shocked at the news that the next series of Doctor Who won't start till Autumn 2012, TimeWarden considers chucking out his telly...

Kippers was annoyed that nobody laughed at his twitter jokes (I did).

The Weekly Themed Art Blog boldly went where no artists have gone before (well, apart from the ones who have)...

Swiss Toni took on the latest trends in women's footwear (brave man)...

There was a nasty knife accident in Kelloggsville (not for the squeamish)....

...and this week's thoughtballoons choice (from Max) was Static Shock. Read my 1 page story here.

That was my week on the web... how was yours?

Technology Is The Thief Of Time

Technology is supposed to make our lives easier. It's supposed to save our time and allow us to accomplish more with the time we have available. But lately, I'm finding it does exactly the opposite. I sit down at my computer to do what I think will be a simple ten minute job... and two hours later, I haven't even started on that job because I've had to do some urgent software update... or an urgent software update I haven't even chosen to do at that time has started anyway, slowing my computer down to a snail's crawl. Why does software have to update so frequently? Half the time it updates and you don't even notice a difference. It's just stolen 20 minutes of your life for no reason at all. Not to speak ill of the recently departed, but the absolute worst culprit here was iTunes... which is why I removed that service from my computer and refused to ever use it again.

Or I log onto a website I haven't used in a while to carry out a simple task... and suddenly it wants to know my password. Now I know you're not supposed to use the same password for every site you visit... but you're not supposed to write your passwords down either. How can I remember all those different passwords when I can barely remember to put my socks on in the morning? So I click 'Forgotten Password'. And then it asks me a security question. Can I remember the answer I chose when I set that security question? Can I heck. So then I have to call the helpline... and don't even start me on helplines.

I could go on, but you get the point. I have no witty observations to make about this subject, nor do I have any radical solutions (other than smashing the looms and going back to writing on slate with chalk). I just needed to get this off my chest. I spent three hours last night trying to fix my Blackberry which had stopped receiving emails. I rebooted the device, I went on the Blackberry website (which told me nothing), in the end I called my service provider... who informed me I wasn't alone. "Didn't you hear?" the woman at the call centre asked (after I'd wasted 25 minutes listening to recorded messages and pressing the right combination of keys that wins you a real human being). "It's been on the news and on the BBC website and everything." "No," I told her. "I haven't had time to watch the news or surf the web... I've been trying to fix this @%&#! computer!"

Going South (4): Lulworth Cove & Durdle Door

The best weather we had during our visit to Dorset came on the day of our visit to Lulworth Cove, a stunning horseshoe cove backed by white chalk cliffs. Sitting there on the beach, watching the waves lap on the shore and the pesky seagulls bobbing on the water, we experienced a moment of rare tranquility. (Well, rare for me and Louise.) Next time I'm faced with one of those relaxation exercises involving visualisation, this is the place I will picture.

Just a few minute's drive up the coast (or one heck of a hike if you've brought the right shoes) we found another famous Dorset landmark.

Durdle Door is a naturally formed limestone archway through which the sea crashes daily. I know bugger all about geology, but I do know that Durdle Door was the location for the video shoot of 'Shout' by Tears For Fears. I wore my bright red socks, rolled up above the top of my boots, in tribute to Roland and Curt.



You might also recognise it from the videos to Tears Of The Dragon by Bruce Dickinson and Savior's Day by Cliff Richard. Truly a location frequented by both God and The Antichrist. Louise and I fit in perfectly.

Book Review - Apples by Richard Milward

Of course I hate Richard Milward. I mean, let's get that out of the way right now. He's young, cool, good-looking and a twice-published novelist with rave reviews. What's not to hate? But give him his due: dude can write.

Apples, Milward's debut novel (first published in 2007) tells the story of two Middlesbrough teenagers, Adam and Eve, and their non-love story. Adam is an OCD geek who has to close the door ten times before leaving the house, gets caught masturbating to his Dad's porno mags and obsesses over Beatles albums (a very teenage thing to do). Eve is a mouthy pretty-girl with a body for sin and a head for getting mortalled whose mum has just been diagnosed with cancer. She has no idea what she wants out of life, but like so many girls her age she thinks she could well end up a super-model.

As is the law for every coming of age novel written since the 50s, Apples has been compared to Catcher In The Rye ("...meets the Arctic Monkeys", said The Times) though personally I found it closer to a British Less Than Zero. There's far more Bret Easton Ellis to Milward's writing than there is Salinger, along with lashings of his hero Irving Welsh (he names Trainspotting as the book that inspired him to write). I enjoyed it, despite the depression and self-loathing I always feel when I discover yet another writer both younger and more talented than I am... but despite how short the book is (only 200 pages) I almost wish it had been shorter still. The scenes told from Adam or Eve's perspectives are gripping, hilarious and heartbreaking. Every now and then, though, Milward goes off on a tangent with chapters written from the perspective of a butterfly, a streetlamp or an unborn foetus. These felt a little too much like creative writing exercises for my tastes, though the foetus did at least make me smile.

Keenly observed, very funny and shamelessly un-pc, Milward captures the voice of contemporary disaffected youth better than anyone I've read in a while. Look away if you're easily offended, because here's the line that convinced me I was going to enjoy this book...

She had that sort of Drew Barrymore look; innocent and pretty, but from the wrong angle you could accuse her of being a mong.

My Week On The Web

The Mixtape Lives On... with new music from Fountains of Wayne, a free download of an entire Nirvana tribute album, plus loads more songs about mixtapes from The Cardigans, Tift Merritt, The Pooh Sticks and The Mamas & The Papas. I also dedicated a song to Steve from Bloggertropolis... from another hard luck Steven. (Congrats also to Steve on his first paying gig... which he used to talk about penises.)

Over at thoughtballoons it was Jimmy Olsen week, as suggested by Grant. You can read my one-page post-no-more-Crisis story right here.

I feel bad that I've not had any time to review any Comics On The Ration lately... but Rob keeps on fighting the good fight. Read what he thought about Jonah Hex: The Six Gun War here.

Elsewhere...

Brian Bolland joins the blogosphere...

Adam began a countdown of 31 of his favourite songs...

Rob began betting on the X-Factor... (I hate the X-Factor, but I like Rob)...

Martin took to the radio to promote his book...

The excitement continued in Thunder Brother: Soap Division as Sally and Jake arrive in Westenders...

Lee looked at the treatment of women in the new look DC Comics...

And Tom discovered this excellent trailer for the maddest Batman flick yet...



And finally... Too Much Sex & Violence #1 is coming. A little later than scheduled, but all good things etc. Watch this space.

Going South (3) Shaftesbury

The only thing I knew of Shaftesbury was its famous Gold Hill: the location of "Britain's favourite TV advert", as directed by Sir Ridley Scott in 1973.



It doesn't look much different today, though you're lucky if you can take pictures like the ones here... I had to wait 20 minutes for a break in the tourists. Bloody tourists.

Worst are the ones who insist on re-enacting the Hovis ad for their own amusement. Without even bothering to bring a bike...

What I didn't know about Shaftesbury is something even more breathtakingly picturesque - Park Walk, a long, tree-lined promenade looking out across Blackmore Vale and towards Glastonbury Tor. Unusually for the area, Shaftesbury is a town built on top of a great hill, and as such it's one of the highest towns in England (not to mention one of the oldest). The view from Park Walk is stunning... photos, I'm sad to say, don't do it justice. Go there on a day of big clouds like these for the ultimate spectacle.

Diamonds Are Forever

Sixty years ago today, Leslie Hirst married Mary Hoyle at Slawit Church. And they're still bickering away like only a couple who have been together for more than half a century could. I'm so proud of them both; I owe them everything. Even the Queen sent her congratulations.

Happy Diamond Anniversary, Mum and Dad. Here's to the next sixty!

How To Make Red Traffic Lights Turn Green

File this one under The Universe Hates Me.

And no, this isn't a post about flashing temporary traffic lights to get them to change green because that's what ambulance drivers do in times of emergency. Does that ever work? This is a post about how even traffic lights are out to get me. And probably you too: you just don't realise it yet.

You know how it goes. You're on your way somewhere, probably in a hurry because you got way too distracted by something utterly pointless* or really quite life-changing on the internet before setting off. And every traffic light is either stuck on red or changes to crimson as you approach.

Well, here's how to get them to change to green. It's simple. And it virtually always works for me.

Start doing something else.

It can't be just anything, mind you. It can't be something you could also do while driving. (Sorry - picking your nose is out.) It has to be something you could only do (safely) while stationary.

Tying your shoelace.

Writing down an idea for a short story.

Checking a message on your phone.

Fetching that pork pie which rolled out of your shopping bag and underneath the passenger seat.

Reading an exciting poster about how to get free things in a shop window.

Getting a different CD out of the glove compartment.

Something that could easily fall into the category of "while I'm waiting here, unable to do anything else, and it's now safe to do so, why don't I...?"

Because the second you start doing something like that... often the very moment you even decide to do it in the first place... that's when the traffic lights will turn back to green. If you hadn't decided to do that thing, if you'd just sat there glaring at the red light, willing it to change, wishing your life was a Housemartins song, you'd still be sat there now. Because life's like that.

The universe hates us.

(*Only joking, Steve.)

Movie Review - Drive

Imagine you're listening to a piece of classical music performed by a string quartet. The music is slow and leisurely. There's rarely more than one instrument playing at a time and long moments of silence punctuate the pianissimo. You're enjoying this music. It's warm, comforting, hypnotic. You could listen to it all day.

And then, from nowhere, THE TRUMPETS burst in. An electric guitar SHRIEKS power chords. A drummer goes CHAOTIC. The bagpipes BLAST. It's AWFUL. SHOCKING. BRUTAL. But that's the point.

Drive is a very strange movie. It stars Ryan Gosling, a genetic hybrid of Paul Newman and Steve McQueen, as a cool, detached getaway driver cum mechanic who begins a shy, reserved relationship with his neighbour, Carey Mulligan. The opening scene is a tense car chase (or non-chase) that sets you up for more of the same, then wrongfoots the audience by steering them into a romantic cul de sac. When Mulligan's ex turns up, you suspect things are going to go bad for our hero: just how bad you'll never guess.

Drive is a movie where bad people do bad things, and good people do worse. It has moments of horrific violence which might have passed unnoticed in an action movie yet stand out like the aforementioned bagpipes here. It has Christina Hendricks, like you've never seen her before. It has a magnetic performance from Mulligan and a mumbling intensity from Gosling that recalls Brando at his white-vested best. It has a weird soundtrack made up of 80s synth bands. It feels like it could be happening right now or any time in the last five decades. It might be one of the best films I've seen this year... but I'm still not sure I actually enjoyed it.

Calling All Botanists...

Name that flower!

Back in the spring, we bought a cheap packet of bulbs from the supermarket in the hope of bringing a little diversity to our garden. We've seen little from them all summer apart from a few might-be-weeds / might-be-leaves and had pretty much given up on any explosions of colour... until now, in our Autumn heatwave (hottest day of the year on Saturday - and they say the climate's not messed up)...

Of course, we long ago threw away the bulb packet so have no idea just what it was that we planted... but it's the most beautiful and exotic flower we've had in our garden all year. And it lived just one day before closing up and dying.

Any ideas?

My Week On The Web

This was the week I started my new music blog, The Mixtape Lives On. One song a post, one post a day, endlessly surprising, always something new. So far we've had a free download from Billy Bragg; songs about mixtapes from Bow Wow Wow and Los Campesinos!; new music from The Slow Readers Club; and a cracking cover version of Sexual Healing by The Hot 8 Brass Band.

We also wished a very happy 5th blog-birthday to my favourite music blogger: JC, The Vinyl Villain.

Over at thoughtballoons, Danial chose H.P. Lovecraft's Cthulhu as the character we all had to write a 1-page comic script about this week. I looked for horror in the most everyday scenario imaginable... because that's always where it's worst. Read my story here.

Elsewhere in the blogosphere this week...

Scott Pilgrim met Ramona's 8th boyfriend...

An old pal launched a new blog full of drunken misanthropy (and believe me: he isn't joking)...

Nota Bene had a lucky escape...

Dad Who Writes considered whether we want to read more toilet breaks and menstruation in our fiction...

Steve made the ludicrous assertion that Big Bird would win against Octavia The Ostrich in a cage fight (he couldn't be more wrong)...

...and Rob relaunched The Negative Channel... because what the internet really needs right now is more negativity.

(If I haven't mentioned you or your blog this week, it's not that I didn't find it interesting or entertaining. I'll get to you in weeks to come. Honest.)

That was my week on the web. How was yours?