The fix is in [27/100]

Books! Old and new!

Work was quite sad today. There were only five of us in, which was a bit of a comedown compared to the build-up-to-Christmas madness. It’s weird though, our sale actually seems brilliant. I’ve bought the following…




for about £23, when it shoulda come to £57ish. Hurrah!

So, yes, it seemed sad that there were so few of us in, but the day passed relatively quickly. I just wanted it out of the way so I could get home and go to bed. I think I will definitely do that now. Every sunday I wake up exhausted and tell myself “Ah well, I’ll just go straight to bed after work…” but I’m usually so awake by the end of the day that I don’t bother sleeping until ridiculous o’clock in the early hours of the next day due to being distracted by dvds or tv when I do actually get home.

Seriously though, bed… Even though Outnumbered’s on in an hour… Hm…

Perverted By [9/100]

[I saw Jill today for the first time in months. That was nice.
I'm seeing my sister in mere moments. That will be nice. ]

I’m listening to an album of songs inspired by the Fall. Several of these bands sound like the Yummy Fur but not as good. It’s interesting. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about the Fall that makes them so loved by such a wide range of people, but I still don’t know. Do you like them? If so, why do you like them?
I’ve always enjoyed their music but have never really known much about them. They’ve just always been on in the background. One day I’ll buy a book about ‘em, but for now, I’ll stick with listening to their stuff. I felt a bit like this about Pixies. All I ever knew about them since I was around 7 was that my sister liked them and they made a good noise. I recently discussed the fact that I’d like to have more Pixie-knowledge with Joss, which made me realise I knew more about them than I first thought, so that was good.

I occasionally have periods where I get an overwhelming urge to learn about various bands and artists and as a result, I have more books in my to-read pile than I should do. It keeps getting bigger too, which is frustrating.
My favourite book about music is this one:

It is so so good. Indescribably so, but probably only if you’re into punk or just like hearing “oh no she di’ent!” type stories.
I prefer American punk from the early 70s to British stuff. I used to really like Sex Pistols, but now not so much. Plus, they were all such a cartoon characters, especially Sid, that they couldn’t have that credibility that comes with being troubled but honest, like Johnny Thunders.

I wish people like Lou Reed and David Bowie would write autobiographies. There’s so many stories about them, but you never know what to believe and what not to. The only book on Bowie I own is…

…which I’ve not read yet, but I’m imagining will be pretty bitchy and bitter since she wrote it after they’d split up.

I still never got round to finishing Tony Visconti’s autobiography. I bought it originally because it was £4 and I like buying hardbacks for paperback prices. I didn’t even look at it for months and then finally did and it was very easy to read. I really must get all of it read soon… I can’t remember all the books I’m currently juggling, but the Atheist’s Guide To Christmas has been out and about with me for the last few days. I swear it’ll be done by the time that the Festivus For The Rest Of Us comes around…

If I only had half a brain [6/100]

[It is 11.05pm on the 6th of December, not the 7th like my blog will claim. I don't have the heart to change my timezone in the settings because then all of my blog stats will mess up and I am a nerd, so this will not be good.]

I have bookseller’s neck. I believe this should be a medical term like tennis-elbow or butterflies in the stomach (I may just be recalling things from Operation…)

After I did my blog yesterday, I realised that, being a worrier, I didn’t really have time to do anything (read: I did, but I was paranoid I’d miss my train so substituted doing something fun in London for my final hours with the excellent pastime of standing at Kings Cross, staring forwards).

On the way to Kings Cross on the tube, I saw ‘London Bridge’ on the map and I got a nervous feeling. I think it was just me feeling sad though and I had the crazy thought of “What if I just went there instead of catching my train?”
Then I remembered that I am such a pussy that I could probably never go ahead with something like that no matter how much I wanted to and it made me feel even more miserable. Then I got a bit cheered up by the fact that I was miserable and I’m always content, deep down, when I’m unhappy because moaning and feeling sorry for yourself is a good thing. Okay, I can’t phrase this right, but that’s not strictly all true, I do like being happy, but I just thought I’d let you in on the secret that if I’m in a really really bad mood, deep down in my twisted-but-not-literally body, I’ll probably be enjoying it a bit. Anyway…

I don’t know why I was watching the departures board so intently, I knew we’d be leaving from platform five, we always do. There wasn’t even another train at any of the platforms that was ready to set off, but the paranoia kicked in again. What if I was to commit to standing by a platform before it had actually been announced? What if I was to end up in Doncaster permanently? This was clearly never going to happen, but I still waited for the inevitable platform five to be revealed.

When it was, everybody rushed to the train. As far as I was aware, we all had reserved seats, but nobody trusts anyone these days and you don’t want some bastard stealing your place… I didn’t rush though, I sauntered. I was the third person onto my carriage, so it shows you that slow and steady allows you to come third in the race. I can deal with bronze. I can deal with bronze long time. I sat down and immediately began to charge up my phone as it was dying a slow death. The seat next to me was reserved for someone going to Newcastle, but they didn’t show.
The journey itself was pretty dull. I’m pretty sure I was hallucinating at one point, so I attempted to sleep. This was what I did for most of the seven hours, faded in and out of consciousness. It was quite nice, but at the same time made me feel a bit yeuch like when you have a sleep during the day for about half an hour and your mouth is all dry and you just want to continue sleeping.

Dad gave me a lift from the station and when I got home, several things of jollity were waiting for me. FLOSS SENT ME AN ‘I LOVE BOOKS’ TSHIRT!!! Sa-weet! I’m gonna have to wear it to our christmas night out on Saturday, ain’t I?
Also, this:

He’s got quite neat writing for an actual mental, does that lovely Rich Fulcher!

So that was nice. I went to bed happy… which obviously irked me.

You’re in my eyes

That fake-book post seems to have brought in an overwhelming number of views. I may now have to, not unlike the BBC, censor my content or the record number of hits could become a record number of complaints.

I don’t know what the hell I’m talking about.

I was out of action at the start of the week with throat-death but still soldiered on to work. What a trooper! Sunday was enjoyable. And I managed to shock Lee, or Captain Filth. This was before we opened at 10.30am too, so I felt after that, I deserved to take the rest of the day off. I didn’t though… because of the whole being-a-trooper thing I mentioned earlier. Then on Tuesday night, he turned up and I managed to freak him out again. I am apparently the only person who has ever done this. I am quite proud.

I had a productive day on Tuesday (ie: I was up before 9am). I met up with Amber at 10.30ish and we caught a bus into town, took lots of photos and went in search of good comics. At 1pm, we went to Slains and sat with lemonade and resisted ordering food until Garry and chums arrived. Amber was worried about meeting him as I’d shown her some of his artwork on his blog, which is amazing (You heard me, Milne: AMAZING.) and she was threatened. I think this made him blush. It was sweet.
We ate some lunch and I led the way to Retrospect, which is a shop I often forget about despite it being ace. There’s always at least one garish top, but I will still always want to buy it. This week’s one was a bright orange and black one that looked a bit like the top half of a wetsuit. Garry and I mused over what the bottom half would be like. Yikes.
All too soon, I had to make my way to work, so I bid the lovely boy a good day and head to work, but not before promising again to get down to Dundee to visit him soon. I am rubbish, so haven’t been down and I’ve been saying it for nearly a year now. Therefore, this December I will definitely go down and if I don’t, he has the right to do a complicated boogie along my spine (is it obvious I’m listening to Jarvis’ ‘Further Complications’ right now?) .

This week in the cinema, I have seen Couples Retreat and Zombieland. The former I mainly went to see due to Serafinowicz being in it, who was brilliant. Zombieland was also far too good. I forgot how much I love Woody Harrelson, that crazy vegan! Also, as I had been led to believe beforehand, the cameo in it is spectacular. I’m shocked that I managed to avoid finding out who it was before seeing it.
It was Laura and I who went to Zombieland and we got to experience one of our five-a-day adrenaline rushes: social awkwardness. As per usual, other people were sitting in our seats when we arrived at the screen. Easy enough procedure, I’m usually more than happy to ask the people to move, but this time I was very tired and saw they were being occupied by loud, smelly rugby boys. I didn’t feel up to confronting them, so we sat in the seats directly behind them, in the knowledge that if we were sitting in someone else’s seats, we’d either a) say, “Oh, I’m sorry!” and move further down the row or b) do some fake acting and exclaim, “Oh, are we? I’m sure we’re… oh, no wait, we’re D10 and 11! D! Sorry about that!”
The trailers were due to start at 9.10pm, so when that time came, the screen was still pretty empty, so we reasoned we might not have been sat in anyone else’s seats. As soon as we voiced this to each other, the screen started to fill up. Every time someone walked up the steps, we’d start nervously laughing. It was tense. We were pathetic. People kept continuing up the stairs and we’d breathe a sigh of relief until more people came in. Baz was killing herself laughing silently at how rubbish we are. I told her that extreme sports can eff off, social awkwardness is more exhilarating. We really are goons.
Today I was back at das Kino with Keri. It seemed all that was on was Love Happens, which looks so so boring and unoriginal and… Jennifer Aniston-y that I’d rather splash acid onto my face, and the Invention of Lying, which I’d seen already. Fortunately, Keri hadn’t, so we got to avoid Love Happens. Hurrah!
I’ve still not seen UP and I really want to. Not in 3D though, I don’t want to have to pay to see it. Imagine!

A thing I learned this week is that there is actually an English word for schadenfreude. It is ‘epicaricacy’. This is exciting if you’re a nerd like me. But you probably already knew it.

What else did I want to ramble about?
…OH! Again, at work this week, Scott began to compile a list of books about time travel. I recommended Stevie Fry’s ‘Making History‘ and in return, he showed me one he’d found on his Wikipedia list of Time Travel novels, ‘Time After Time‘ purely because it’s about Jack the Ripper… who gets hold of a time machine and goes to San Francisco in 1979. Amazing!

It dawned on him that he’d actually seen the film of this. I told Kerry about it last night and we’ve concluded we need to get a copy of it. It could be the new Deidre Hall Story for Speccy Nerdy Fucknuts Film Club.
Apparently the sequel to Time After Time is released next year and is called ’Jaclyn the Ripper’. The premise: “H.G. Wells chases Jack the Ripper through time again—only Jack has transmogrified into a beautiful woman.” Wow. I have ordered the first book off Amazon. It’s going to be terrible, I can’t wait.
Find out more about Karl Alexander here and the books the Library Journal praised as “Quite readable.” WOW! 

In other news, I’m sad that I’m not at Karaoke Circus tonight. Especially as this time last year, I was in old London town and it’d be good to be there in October again. But on the plus side, it means I get to watch Nick Griffin on Question Time. Someone on the Aberdeen Music site had pasted the email he sent to his idiots onto the site, but was keen to point out that, as a very very anti-BNP man, the email was not sent to him:

“Fellow British Patriot

Question Time is scheduled for 10.35pm tomorrow evening (Thursday) and will be a milestone in the indomitable march of the British National Party towards saving our country.
Our violent opponents on the far Left have promised to lay siege and barricade the studio venue, because they know only too well that this could be THE key moment that propels the BNP into the big time.
Never before have we had the chance to present our patriotic, common sense solutions to Britain’s nightmare situation to the public at large in such a prominent fashion.
However, members and supporters must be aware that this show will be a stage-managed farce organised in a specific way to leave several impressions:
The audience will be hand-picked and overtly hostile – thus giving the impression that the British people at large must be hostile to BNP views.
The panellists will be overtly hostile, even the non-political guests will be hostile. Everyone will be hostile – this will leave the impression to non-informed viewers that BNP views have minority status.
I will, no doubt, be interrupted, shouted down, slandered, put on the spot, and subject to a scrutiny that would be a thousand times more intense than anything directed at other panellists.
It will, in other words, be political blood sport.
But I am relishing this opportunity, and I know that, despite the stage-managed hostile audience and panellists, YOU, the ordinary members, supporters and voters of the BNP, will be in the studio with me as I take on the corrupt, treacherous swine destroying our beautiful island nation.

Yours sincerely for Britannia

Nick Griffin MEP

Chairman, BNP”

Riiiight… Of course, anyone who opposes him on tv is doing so purely to “sex up” the show, aren’t they? Those sexy filthy-lefty slags! It couldn’t possibly be because they disagree with him and everything he stands for- don’t be ridiculous!
I sort of feel sorry for him a bit if he really thinks this is going to be “THE key moment that propels the BNP into the big time“
Poor, deluded little Fat Hitler.
My favourite part is probably, “our patriotic, common sense solutions to Britain’s nightmare situation“. Common sense. Forgive me, readers, but: LOL. When did he turn into the Pub Landlord?
And when did he think it was acceptable to interrupt two guys just hanging out and having coffee..?

What a dick.

So I’m gonna live alone

I’ve only had the place to myself since Friday and I’m already very used to it. Although, I suppose most of the time I’m here alone anyway so it’s no big deal. So lonely, so very lonely. It’s good though. I get to eat Rice Krispies out of a pirate mug.

Incidentally, that mug is nearly a year old.

So, the theme of this mini-blog is living alone. Which brings me clumsily to how I spent the majority of the afternoon before work today. For some reason I like to torture myself sometimes by looking at flats for rent in London online. Today I looked at flatshares despite not having the funds or a job that would allow me to move to the metropolis. Some of the places seemed really nice, but I reasoned that if I did ever go down this route, I’d never feel like it was my home. Ideally, I’d like to live on my own. I mainly like the idea of being able to be as loud as I please. For instance, I’ve never been in the situation where, after a night out, I could noisily stumble through the door and make myself a cup of tea or toast or something without disturbing at least one person. 
I know that if I lived with someone I really like, that wouldn’t last long and I’d probably end up wanting to stab them within a month. This being said, living on your own is insanely pricey. Can this be done?

I just want to keep eating Rice Krispies out of a pirate mug.

I bought this today after deliberating for a little while…

I’m only a few pages into it, but it seems pretty concise. The decider was having it confirmed in writing that Angel, Angel, Down We Go Together is about Johnny Marr. I will learn every other song meaning and I will enjoy it.

Gabba Gabba Hey

Oh my god, this blog is taking forever to write. Don’t want to neglect this here page, but have not much to say. Or little motivation.

A couple of us went out for drinks for Stuart leaving the ‘Stones. Water, not Rolling. It was sad oh sad. But as per tradition, he did get to wear my necklace for a bit. We ended up going home earlier than planned, but it meant I had the cheapest night out ever. Good for one with so little money. Me and Pam (HI PAMELA!!! …ahem.) walked to her’s whilst having a good ol’ chat, so that was nice. And gave us a bit of exercise.
I caught a bus from outside her place. Like I say, it was a cheap night.

As touched upon in the last blog, I was due to see the Brand in Glasgow the next day. But I got off the bus, came home and found I’d an email saying he’d cancelled. By this point, it was 1am on the day I was supposed to be travelling to see him so too short notice to get money back for the bus or the Travelodge, so we decided we’d go anyway. Skip to the next day and we eventually get to Glasgow after a bus journey which resulted in me sitting next to a sleeping boy and later, a baby that kept groping my leg. Christ, kid, buy me a drink first. The child’s mother had odd ways of entertaining it. She put music on her phone. Clubland type stuff you usually hear from the back of the bus. Old McDonald it ain’t. The kid seemed to be loving it. Strange. I hope this was a one-off and didn’t signal the definite decline of the music industry. Yes, so, we got there and Keri felt weird. We walked to our Travelodge whilst claiming it was “just another five minutes” to her. You’ve gotta give ‘em hope. So, we managed to convince her she needed food so headed to the restaurant across the road. Not before Laura showed us her mad skillz though…

Oddly, it was easy enough to get a table despite it being Valentine’s day (oh, is it?). Soon we were fed and by now it was dark. We told Keri to go back to the Travelodge (oh, we were in room 101 by the way. Sigh.) and we’d go pick up some booze and some crappy films (I brought my dvd player, forgot any dvds) and some playing cards. We were gone ages. But returned with insanely long straws, some cider and vodka and lemonade to sit in the bath, three dvds (the Break Up, Confetti and Dumb & Dumber if you’re really intrigued) and some Quantum of Solace playing cards. We managed to spend the next few hours watching crappy Saturday night tv and dvds.

The straws proved very handy for comfortable seating positions…

So yeah, basically spent the night how we coulda spent it at home… and for less money. Grr… Ah well, was still nice though. And it was nice to get a lie-in on Sunday too. Aaaah.

AH! One thing (well there’s two really but we’ll get to that) I’ve neglected to mention is Lucifer Box! FINALLY pulled my finger out (…why am I using head-teacher phrases?) and finished all three novels in about a week and am very sad that there are no more. Gatiss is the man. But there are gaps between stories, so plenty of room for more. But since reading, I have concluded I would like a man who wears braces and uses phrases like “What the deuce?!” and occasionally ends sentences with “what.” (“Let’s get slaughtered, what!”)
I did say “By jingo” earlier on without meaning too. My subconscious lives in the olden days.

Second thing. Bad Movie Club happened. I wrote “happened” then remembered the film was ‘the Happening’. My subconscious lives in the olden days and in a world where puns are perfectly acceptable (we can but dream!) and it was very very very funny. Words cannot describe the Happening. Well, they can, but it needs to be seen to be believed. Mark Wahlberg is my new hero. Actually, no, the old woman who gets to say “Why ya eyein’ ma lemon drink..?” wins Best Line and so becomes my hero by default. Well done, lady.

Payday tomorrow. It’s sad that currently it’s all I’m looking for. Someone offer me a job and a flat in London please?

There’s more to life than books you know, but not much more [Part 1]

As much as I love working in a book shop, sometimes I wonder if it’s for the best that I do as not only do I have a tendency to judge books by their covers but also, probably the wiser option, I form an opinion based on their titles. I don’t think too much about titles until I see a really bad one. I’d like to claim that seeing a particularly terrible one ruins my day, but really the smaller version of me controlling my brain rubs her hands with glee.

So, I’m going to start a list of book titles that anger me to sheer joy. I feel this may be constantly updated or various entries on the subject shall be made.
I am aware I’ve said the word ‘titles’ too many times already. Strap yourself in, it’ll come up a few more times.
Any suggestions gratefully received!

‘I Don’t Mean To Be Rude, But…’ by Simon Cowell

HA! Oh, I get it! Because he’s a notoriously rude bastard! Ohh, good one, Simon! Of COURSE you mean to be rude, that’s your job, if you weren’t, you’d just be another dull music big-wig. What a truly witty title.

‘Déjà Dead’ by Kathy Reichs

I can’t put my finger on what’s so awful about this one. Perhaps it feels a little too Garth Marenghi-esque (albeit, not nearly as good). You can imagine Kathy sitting in front of the fire reading an actual line from the actual book, “He turned to look at the body. She wasn’t just dead,” a smug look to make sure we acknowledge how clever she is, “she was déjà dead…”*
I don’t know, I just get irritated by words that don’t have anything to do with each other being thrown together. What does déjà dead mean? Perhaps I should have read it… No! Mustn’t think like that. If it had an intriguing title like ’Predict-a-Death’ or something, I may have been vaguely interested, but ‘Déjà Dead’ makes me want to force Kathy Reichs to ingest it through her eyeballs so nobody can buy it, thus I’d be saving lives.
*May not be actual line from the actual book.

‘N or M?’ Agatha Christie

I can’t help but feel she’s given the big question away here. And if the book’s conclusion can be reached simply by finding out if the answer is “N” or “M”, it sounds like a shit dilemma to be honest… It’s 50/50, innit? 
Unless it’s actually called “Norm?”, like what would happen if there was a powercut in Cheers, shutting off the lights and the revellers weren’t absolutely certain that Norm Peterson had just arrived at the bar or if it was some other guy making a witty beer/laziness/bad health remark, and so would question if it was him rather than exclaiming that it was.

‘Celebrities My Arse!’; ‘Cheers My Arse!’; ‘Football My Arse!’; ‘Reading My Arse!’ by Ricky Tomlinson


I’m not so much opposed to the titles of these, but more the fact that they exist. Oh, Ricky Ricky Ricky… I loved you once… and yes, everyone cashes in on popular television shows and films they’ve starred in now and then and we could have called it a momentary lapse or a blip, but there’s four of them, Ricky, four… and it’s 2009. The Royle Family was excellent, but it’s not really relevant to today…
I do also wonder how true the sub-titles that claim these are the funniest _____ anecdotes I’ll ever read are. It seems a bit coincidental that Ricky Tomlinson tells the best celebrity and drinking anecdotes I’ll ever read… Are they really? Or is it just a way to give a quick description of what’s in the books? Oh, who am I kidding, obviously the man just has a gift.
I’m not angry, Ricky, just disappointed. Go home, Ricky, you’ve had enough…

‘This Is My Life’ by Eamonn Holmes

“Eamonn, this is important, this is your chance to win the hearts of the vast majority of people that think you come across as a twat. If you can come up with a title that’s funny and original, you could turn this around and make everyone fall in love with you like the gigantic teddy bear you are!”
“Really? Oh, okay then, well this is going to require some thought… OH! I’ve got it! How about ’My Life’?”
“That’s good, Eamonn, but it needs something more. A little more sass! An edge, you know, something clever. A play on words or something. Maybe even ‘My Life As A Slightly Below Average TV Personality’!”
“Okay then, how about ‘This Is My Life’?”
“Eamonn, that’s good, but like I say, it needs something else.”
“But I don’t think you get it. Do you remember that show ‘This Is Your Life’?”
“I recall such a programme, yes…”
“Well, if you remember correctly, you’ll know that the host was none other than Eamonn Andrews. Now, his name was Eamonn and my name is Eamonn, but this isn’t your life, This Is MY Life. Get it?”
“Good god… You’re right, Eamonn, that’s genius. Everyone’s going to adore you! I’ll go ring the publishers!”

More to follow. Exactly when, I do not know…

A chat with Britain’s favourite transvestite, the indiscreet Mark Gatiss

It started pissing down with rain in about five seconds today. Strange weather. The soles of my favourite shoes are virtually non-existant these days and thus, my feet are soaking. Inane pre-amble: Check!

It’s been an odd week… I know I worked on Monday and went to the cinema at some point (I think Tuesday) but that feels like ages ago. Anyway, went to see Zack And Miri Make A Porno. I dunno what I was expecting, but it had Seth Rogen in it, so I wasn’t going to complain. But yes, crude and crass and all sorts, but somehow Seth gets away with it. You can’t complain about it if you go to see something with that title by choice!

Yesterday was what I’d describe as a lovely day! Got my new bed delivered (it’s gonna be constructed this weekend while I’m away. Avoiding DIY win.) by the Chuckle Brothers and then went to the garden centre with Laura to buy a something for a someone. At about 5.30, I headed into town to be at Waterstone’s by 7pm for the Mark Gatiss signing. I was ridiculously early, so scraped together some change to grab a rum in Slain’s while I waited. I sat there for about forty minutes and left for Waterstone’s at 6.55pm, in time to see a queue being led inside. I ran across the road and joined in. I bought two copies of ‘Black Butterfly’ and sat down. We were told there’d be a chat with Mark, hosted by a local radio dj, followed by a Q&A session, then Mark would do a signing. There weren’t many people there, which meant there was a relaxed atmosphere. Mark came on and we could barely hear him as he wasn’t miked up and the fridges from the coffee shop were buzzing. Occasionally, they’d shut up, he’d grin and give a “yay!” and then they’d start up again five minutes later. Eventually, they did get shut off fully and I was able to hear him say several times, “I’m so indiscreet!” and reveal that: he will feel like god if there’s dry ice and a pod at hand; he is going to bid at an auction for John Pertwee’s purple jacket that he desperately wants; he thought Rose and the Doctor being split up in series two of Dr Who was beautiful but didn’t care for the 10 minutes of crying afterwards; he seemed to be typecast as a transsexual after appearing in All About My Mother, which led to one of his friends introducing him as Britain’s Favourite Transvestite at some event; he was offered the chance to go on Strictly Come Dancing and his family resent the fact that he declined due to being a shit dancer; the first time he met Jonathan Pryce, Jonathan said to him “I’ve heard you’re a really nice guy, don’t fuck it up.”; his thoughts on the Brand/Ross thing and its effect on British comedy; he owns the script that Stephen Fry wrote for Dr Who and everyone gasped and asked what it was like. He said he’d auction it on ebay next year… along with John Pertwee’s purple jacket; he could die happy if he ever got to play Jacob Marley.

He also spoke briefly, after pushed into that direction, of his appearance in Spaced, “Ah, that was great fun. Back when the Matrix was still cool…”
Everyone laughed and this led him to talk about when the Weakest Link first started and he and Adam Buxton would email each other and end every correspondance with “You are the weakest link: Goodbye!”. He said that he was clearing out emails and came across these and cringed, “So naive!”
Apparently this will probably be the last Lucifer Box novel but he’s left plenty of gaps in it so that he could go back to it at any time. He also said that the League are still on a break for now, but will definitely do more together in the future. They’ve nothing planned at the moment though.
I can’t remember when it was, but he said something like, “Who knows? In years time, maybe the commissioner for the BBC will be someone who loved the League when they were 16 and go, ‘Why don’t we make that anymore?’”
This struck a chord. I’d like to be that person if I fail miserably at the actual writing thing.

That’s all I can really remember, just bits of things he said, but he was ever-so lovely and endearing. Definitely my favourite Gentleman of the League! After that, I went to get my book signed and one for my sister. I spoke to him and told him that the sister wants to call her child ‘Kitty Backlash’ to set her up for a lifetime of… I’m not sure what. He said this was cruel, but Kitty on its own was good. So he signed her book “To Morven, go for Kitty! Love Mark Gatiss x” and mine “To Kirstin [yes, I know, the unforgivable spelling... but I forgive him for he is looovely! Did I mention that already?] Love and boy scouts, Mark Gatiss x” (I didn’t understand what this meant, so presumed I’d have to read the book to find out. In the pub afterwards, I saw a chapter was called Scouting For Boys. I sense I’ll find answers here.)
He spotted my Ripper badge and said “Ah, a Jack the Ripper fan, eh?” and started rambling about an article he’d seen in the paper that day about there being new evidence from Broadmoor about one of the suspects. I told him I’d have to check it out. Interesting, cheers, Mr G!
I left and cursed the fact that I’d not forced him to come with and take part in the quiz, but I left for Slain’s.
After that, it was a pretty dull night. I was now truly skint after having spent the last of my money on the books, so didn’t really enjoy myself. Got paid today though. Good times. Overpaid I think, though, so essentially bad times. Hassle hassle. I’ll have to mention it to Iain on Sunday. Unfortunately I can’t before then, for I’ll be in Glasgow with my team. I am very excited. There will most definitely be an update after that adventure.

I went into town today, bought the Gatiss’ first two novels (was just going to buy the first and read Morven’s copy of the second, but the two-in-one was on our 3for2 offer) and two other books. Then I met up with Ryan, who is home and has had a freakin’ haircut. Strange! But nice! We went to Primark, then Slain’s where we had some food and a drink. Was lovely to catch up with him. I miss that boy and apparently he misses crappy stupid conversations. They just don’t make ‘em in Edinburgh like they do here, guy!

Anyway, yes, I’ve got an epic clear-out to be continuing with. And packing to do. And I was planning to have a bath and another shower (damn rain…) but that may have to wait until tomorrow morn.

Tomorrow will be a good day. We go forth: eat, drink and be merry. And take lots of photos and film clips… and watch the IT Crowd. Don’t miss it.

Conversation should be like juggling; up go the balls and the plates, up and over, in and out, good solid objects that glitter in the footlights and fall with a bang if you miss them. But when dear Sebastian speaks it is like a little sphere of soapsud drifting off the end of an old clay pipe, anywhere, full of rainbow light for a second and then -phut!- vanished, with nothing left at all, nothing…

Long post title win.

So I’ve not updated in a while. I’m terribly sorry, old bloggy-wog, but I’ve been working ever-so hard. I’m having my first day off since Saturday, which I know is not an achievement compared to those who have full-time jobs, but to me, who can best be described as a lazy arsehole, it is something to be proud of. I managed to get out of doing overtime next Monday by saying, “But… but it’s my birthday!” so instead I’m working 5-8pm as per usual, followed by another 11.30-8pm on the Tuesday and Wednesday.
I’d love to report that I’ve been involved in hi-jinks and adventure, but that would be a lie.

I would, however, like to talk at great length about Brideshead Revisited. (Actually, I don’t think I can express it very well, so it might not be great length, but merely, “GAAAAH! ACE!”)
I’ve spent the most part of today watching the old box set of the tv series. As I was watching, I thought “Excellent, I’ll re-read the book and prioritise by putting it next on my to-read list after the Book of Dave.”
Then I remembered that I don’t actually own it and that the copy I read came from the school library. Actually… I’ve got a bus pass, I might pop into town, run into Books and Beans and pick up as many second hand Waugh books as I can for under £10. I’ve just had a look at the father’s bookcase, the only ones from there I’ve not read is the War Trilogy. He has A Handful of Dust which I’d quite like to read again, but I’ll get my own cheap copy. I prefer having my own copy of books and I quite like second hand ones too. Especially if, when you buy them, they have the name of the previous owner written on the top right hand corner of the first page. It can send the imagination into overdrive. (Sort of reminds me of Cemetry Gates.)
Right, anyway, yes yes, back to Brideshead. Not literally, it does not exist. So I was re-watching the box set and remembered that the film was due out this year. I think it’s supposed to be out soon. Early October, my brain says, but I could be going insane.
Anyway, I’m quite eager to see how it all works out. Apparently it’s been criticised for focusing more on Charles and Julia’s relationship, rather than Charles and Sebastian’s, but I’m more interested to see how Pingu from Nathan Barley does as Sebastian. He’s got a lot to live up to. I’ve seen a few stills from the film and it’s not really done anything for me… But then I’m obviously biased at the moment having only encountered Jeremy Irons and Anthony Andrews.

Ah well, we’ll see. I’m going to reserve all judgement until it comes out. I’m very excited for it anyway.

This must be rather a dull entry, so I should probably leave it there. I apologise, again, for putting you through it. I’m off to buy some dusty old books.

Think Tank

Another list post. I do apologise. I keep thinking of loads of things to say, then when it comes to actually writing it, I don’t know where to start. So, I’ll just do this…

-I’ve decided I officially hate it when people find out I’m not going to uni after all and ask that fatal question, “So what are you going to do?”
I did, for a while, say “Oh, I’m thinking of just taking a year out and just re-applying next year…” but then I’d get odd looks. Upon reflection, it’s probably as most of the people I’d say this to knew what a cop-out my last year has been, it was almost a gap year in itself… except without the sense of achievement at the end of it.
I also hate people making me feel like a tool when I open up about wanting to go to London and perhaps get into comedy writing. I’ve discussed this many a time, mainly with Gracie, about how I should ignore the negativity and focus on the whole “If you want something badly enough, you’ll get it” mantra, but I can’t help but slink into this loathesome little weed of a person when looks down their nose at my idea of a fantastic career. Especially when these people are my friends. Fortunately, these days, the past few times I’ve bravely brought up the issue with my closest friends, they’ve been very supportive. Admittedly, when me and Baz spoke about the future, it was after a few glasses of whisky and so we felt all full of love and “you go, girl!”ish, but still, it’s nice to know when your friends are on side.

-I miss Jez.

-I’ve been obsessing over Stephen Fry and Will Self again. The latter, mainly because Kerry’s reading the Book Of Dave. I started reading We Need To Talk About Kevin, but I may put it on hold and get back into TBOD while someone else is. Encouraging!

-Another mention of Goodnight Burbank and Abigail’s X-Rated Teen Diary for ma brother from another mother (please god, kill me now…) Sir Hayden Black, who is excellent.

-I saw a mum swearing like a moron at her son who must have been about 5 years old today. He was just being a five year old boy and she started going on about how he’d end up getting “a fucking skelp” and how he was “irritating the fuck” out of her. Fair enough, I’d never want kids, the little odd things, and if I did, I’d remain fairly liberal and relaxed with them, I wouldn’t tell them off for swearing, but I’d be cautious, y’know? I’d tone down my language, so that they wouldn’t have an excuse to resort to it and would maybe think of better words to use to express themselves. Language is a good thing, isn’t it? It always warms my cockles (I have no idea what the fuck that means) when you see someone who really appreciates language. I think that’s why I like Stephen Fry so much. He said something at the end of QI last night along the lines of, “Yes, language is a strange one, but she is my mistress.” and I just wanted to give him a gigantic hug.

-I’ve finally made it. Someone got to my blog by searching “megabus”. I am truly the queen of them. I think roughly half of my year so far has been spent onboard megabuses.

-I’ve got a lunch and a phone-delivery tomorrow. If it wasn’t for these two very trivial things, I’d be in London for the day. I’ve got the moolah these days, I just need the time, please. Nevertheless, I’m not disappointed, tomorrow will be nice, catching up with friends I’ve not seen in ages shall be a treat.

Love to you and yours.