Sunday 31 December 2006

A year in review

Hello and welcome to The First Annual Coven Awards.

Oh, they already know they're here - there's a ruddy great sign up there telling them so! Get on with it!
Hush up! I was looking forward to this.
Whatever for? You know what's going to happen.
Well. I...

Oh, for Christ's sakes! Will you two be quiet!
I kind of agree with them. Just get on with it - don't do a big speech or anything.
Right. Fine. I'll get straight to the point, then.

We'll see about that.

Thank you all for coming. Let's get on with the show - after leaving out the first ten minutes...

See. I told you old Witchface couldn't just start!

* Ahem *

The nominees for the award of Best Book, are: Burning Dreams by Margaret Wander Bonano, The Time Traveller's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, Wicked by Gregory Maguire and Warpath by David Mack. And the award goes to * rrrip "mmfff" tear * The Time Traveller's Wife!

The nominees for the award of Best Film, are: Little Miss Sunshine, Serenity, Brokeback Mountain and X-Men: The Last Stand. The award goes to "Ooh. I can't get this one open. Hang on. Hang on... There!" Little Miss Sunshine!

Well. There's a surprise. I could've sworn Brokeback would get it.
I'm still reeling from the fact that The History Boys wasn't nominated instead of X-Men! This thing's a shambles.

The Best Male Actor nominees are: Daniel Craig for Casino Royal, Nathan Fillion for Serenity, Jake Gyllenhaal for Brokeback Mountain and Patrick Stewart for X-Men: The Last Stand. * rrip * And the award goes to Patrick Stewart!

The Best Female Actor nominees are : Toni Collette for Little Miss Sunshine, Famke Janssen for X-Men: The Last Stand, Michelle Williams for Brokeback Mountain and Abigail Breslin also for Little Miss Sunshine. "Who stuck this one down? I can't budge it! Mmmmph... Rrrrrgh..." *tear * "Aha!" And the winner is Michelle Williams!

The nominees for the award of Best TV Drama are: Battlestar Galactica, Lost, Grey's Anatomy and Desperate Housewives, with the award going to * rrriiip * Grey's Anatomy!

The Best Factual or Reality TV nominees are: Galapagos, Planet Earth, Colin & Justin's Wedding Belles and Strictly Come Dancing. * tearr * And the award goes to Planet Earth!

The nominees for the Most Entertaining TV Couple are: Five's Colin & Justin, Teachers' Brian & Kurt, Malcolm In The Middle's Lois & Hal and Star Trek Enterprise's Trip & T'Pol, with the award going to * rrrrip * Colin & Justin!

The nominations for Best Delivery Service include: Parcel Force, DHL, Planet Express and Bihand, with the award going to * sliiiice * "Ooh, it's much better with this fish slice" Planet Express!

Best album nominees are: Ta Dah by the Scissor Sisters, Supernature by Goldfrapp, Electric Blue by Andy Bell and The Understanding by Royksopp. The award goes to * ssliice * The Understanding!

What? Supernature didn't win?! But he's been playing that practically every hour of every day!

The special award for Best Single Remix goes to Ewan Pearson for his Disco Odyssey (parts 1 & 2) of Ride A White Horse by Goldfrapp

The nominees for the Most Fanciable Animated Male are: Futurama's Philip J Fry, Disney's Aladdin, Pokemon's Ash and Dungeons & Dragons' Hank. And the winner is * tear * Fry!

A special mention has to go to Disney's Prince Eric, from The Little Mermaid, for being the best looking animated male.

Nominees for the Most Fanciable Animated Female are: Miyazaki's Princess Mononoke, Futurama's Amy Wong, Betty Boop and Battle Of The Planets' Princess, with the award going to * sliiice * Amy Wong!

The Most Fanciable Flesh & Blood Female nominations are: Smallville's Kristine Kreuk, Buffy: The Vampire Slayer's Alyson Hannigan, Grey's Anatomy's Katherine Heigl and Desperate Housewives' Eva Longoria. The award goes to * cut * Alyson Hannigan!

Oooh, did you see the look she got from Kristine Kreuk. Daggers, I tell you!

The Most Fanciable Flesh & Blood Male nominees are: Grey's Anatomy's Patrick Dempsey, Lost's Josh Holloway, Desperate Housewives' Doug Savant and Star Trek: Enterprise's Connor Trinneer. * sliice * And the award goes to Connor Trinneer!

Connor Trinneer also gets a special award for Best Sci-Figure

The Most Fanciable Animated Transformer nominees are: Bumblebee, Hot Rod, Soundwave and Arcee - if you like that kind of thing. * sliiit * And the award goes to Hot Rod!

A special award for the Best Blogger Adopted Saying goes to Patrick Stewart for "It's too late. I've seen it all!" from Extras. As championed by the Coven Of Hags.

2006: A year of IDV

January - A few more of the Supernaturals were introduced and the DVD player and I almost came to blows. There was an abundance of swearing because of the DVD player's reluctance to work properly... First time commenters included: Tina, The Lady Muck, Wyndham the Triffid, Piggy & Tazzy, The Merkin and S.I.D.

February - More trouble from that DVD machine, and from familiars and gargoyles. There was an incident with a sexy neighbour, a Wizard of Oz-like drama and IDV taught you how to Walk Through Rain Without Getting Wet. First time commenters included: Tickersoid (nee Steelworker), Brianne, Kyahgirl and Convict

March - A parallel universe disaster! A birthday! And the start of some Supernatural flirting! First time commenters included: Spike, Shiftclick, Frobisher and Beast

April - The month of porn, poo, poems and pesky sisters. Not forgetting the Brown Jelly Babies, of course. First time commenters included: The various Corpses Of Marcus Tal, Fuckkit, Qenny, Ickle_Bro, Miss T (nee Miss Haversham), Dinah, Jay and Dora & Tina

May - Good riddance to Fuckkit and an orbital chase after an errant Broom. First time commenters included: MJ, Midget Arse, NCEFABN, Fewclewz and The Blind Flaneur

June - Vexing vampire related family troubles and airship shennanigans. June was also he month of comment-flirting! First time commenters included: Tim, Snooze, Ken, Awaiting Xtasy, Toby (xxx) and Cyberpete

July - Ah. heat inspired questionning and the 100th post! No regular first time commenters now until November.

August - A book review, an eye full and a holiday

September - Postcards from the edge (of known space), Fuckwittage and a holiday horror!

October - A month of Vampiritis, being stalked by a Porsche-driving, possibly legless, um... stalker, errant time zones, Hallowe'en and a year of Blogging

November - Pictures, cartoon crushes and an unveiling. First time commenters included: Skillz and Mutleythedog

December - Supernaturals Return, disappearance, a brown accident with Father Christmas and The Four Stablehands Of The Apocalypse

And that's it for 2006. Unless I get caught up in another time-travelling accident and have to relive bits of it.

Anyway, from myself, IDV, and my Subconscious, and from the Host and his Subconscious, have a splendid 2007!

Bugger (last one of the year)

Friday 29 December 2006

Pooped party

Finding myself bored to tears at yet another insufferable post-Christmas party, I excused myself into the party host's back garden, pretending that I wanted a fag*. Once behind the philodelphus away from prying eyes - and those with a good sense of smell** - I opened a Hell Portal, grudgingly paid the toll fee and slipped into somewhere more comfortable.

Demons certainly know how to throw a good party. The best guests, the finest food and the most illegal drinks. They even serve Romulan ale sometimes! So, Satan only knows what had happened to this particular party I'd crashed. Most of the guests, if they'd even bothered to turn up, had left. The host, a rather corpulent demon, sweated copiously as he filled his rather ample face with titbits, Nipples of Venus if I wasn't very much mistaken. Although, judging by his distended stomach, they were probably from Diana of the Ephesians.

Hardly able to believe that I'd left one hideous dive for another, I headed out back towards the servants quarters. After all, it's a universal constant that servants have better parties than their masters employers. Look at Dirty Dancing for example (I'm not explaining it. If you haven't seen it, so don't know what I'm going on about, then shame on you! It's worth it if not just for Patrick Swayze in his 'pre-leatherette' days).

Wandering past the Infernal Stables of the Abominable Steeds, I heard music and voices. Aha! A party! Heading towards the sounds, my spirits lifted. I hastily grabbed hold of them and stuffed them back in our body. I couldn't let them loose down here - I might never get them back! As I got closer, the voices and music - Scissor Sisters by the sound of it - became clearer.

How do you make a lady?
How do you make a lady?
How do you make a lady?
I'll show you one more time.

"Will you turn that down" one of the voices screeched. It sounded vaguely female.

"What?" barked a second voice.

How do you make a lady?
How do you make a lady?

"I can't hear myself think!" the first, rather strident, voice exclaimed.

"You don't need to think to do what I have in mind" a third, lascivious voice, oozed.

Hey hey baby.
Maybe you can show me your lady
and we can make a lady tonight?


"Oh, come on. You know you want to. Take that off..."

"Get your filthy claws off me!"

* stamp *



Her name is (Barbara) Barbara (Jackson) Jackson.
That is her name.
Her name is (Barbara) Barbara (Jackson) Jackson.

"They're not filthy."

"You're riddled with disease, you sex mad freak!"

"Mmmm... Thank you." 

Her name is Barbara Jackson.
How do you make a lady?

"Has anyone seen Pinky?" Ah, someone else.


"That bloody rat hasn't escaped again, has it?"

"Leave my hair alone!" 

"Pinky isn't a rat" the fourth voice whined.

"Urrgrh... You've got syphillis as well as genital warts?"

"He's a gerbil."

Barbara Jackson is my name
and I don't play no game

"I'm not falling for that again. What did I just say?"

* smack *

"Arrrggh! What was that for?" 

My name is Barbara Jackson
and that's what you should call me.
My name is Barbara Jackson
but you don't ever call me.
You don't ever call me.


I'm making her from faberge
I'm making her from fabric
I'll put her in some neglige
I'll conjure her with magic

Drat! I'd only stumbled across The Four Stablehands Of The Apocalypse: Petulance, Vermin, Warts and Deaf.


* Of course, I don't smoke, but he didn't know that. Unless he did and thought I was going out for a bit of cock? How very VERY dare he make such assumptions. I'll get him later. And not just for the cock assumption, but the crappy party, too.

** Hell does pong a bit. All that sulphur, you see...

Wednesday 27 December 2006


Did you know that nearly 75% of all 'ghosts' are still alive?

No? Well, they are. They're just silly sods having OOBEs* or they're Remote Viewing. And 99% of those are doing it unconsciously, either while dreaming or daydreaming.

You can imagine how crowded it is already, after all there're far more dead & undead people (and things) than living people (and things). All these extra astral forms dithering around the ether make unlife very frustrating for the other one percent of us.

I mean, hardly anyone indicates to make it clear which reality they're going to emerge into. Changing ether-strings without so much as a by-your-leave is most vexing, too. However, by far the worst culprits are those who run red lights, jamming up the sublayers causing massive spectral backlogs before all suddenly emerging into the same reality at once - More often than not, unwittingly dragging along other genuine ether-users. Invariably, they often emerge in some weak willed thing who has to be exorcised to get rid of all the extra souls scrabbling about for space in its consciousness.

* tut *

I'm taking a pair of scissors with me next time I go. I'll cut the link between the astral form and its body of whoever gets in my way. They can drift around for eternity learning some bloody manners, I hope.

Actually, there really ought to be some sort of exam or test one has to take before sliding into the ether. You know, something you have to do to get a license...

* Out Of Body Experiences, for those that didn't know. If you don't know what Remote Viewing is, I despair... Oh, all right. Have a look here.

Sunday 24 December 2006

Bah! Humbug!

My flight plan had been cleared by Norwich airport's air traffic control - my good friend Rapunzel works there. She has loads of experience what with all those years trapped in a tower of her own, with nothing but local bird flight and migrating geese skeins to observe. Usually, I wouldn't bother with logging a flight plan, but seeing as how I was returning home from some distance and would be flying quite high and fast, I thought I'd better check that the air space close to home was clear. Afterall, I didn't want to be sucked into a jet intake like poor old Sherry Bobbins, maysherestinpieces.

So, there I was, descending over Norwich, easily clearing the cathedral spire, my sights fixed firmly on home. Well, I say 'fixed firmly', but I may have been slightly distracted whilst rummaging in my hand luggage behind me for a humbug, which in hindsight, probably wasn't the best thing to do when coming in for a landing at 200 miles per hour. If only I'd switched my foresight on...

Now, usually I'd swerve aound Morrison's carpark, not for fear of being seen by the shoppers below - slack jawed mongs are too busy staring down at where their knuckles are scraping through all the puddles of drool they'd produced. Good job they've got oversized jaws, as I dread to think what else they'd push the trolleys with...

* shudder *

No. I avoid the store because of the cheap yellow light it gives off which makes me look jaundiced. Not to mention the hideous uplighting making me look more 'weathered' than I actually am. Not that I am to any great degree, you understand!

Anyway, having eventually located the humbug, I popped it in my mouth and turned to face forward again.

"Fark!" I exclaimed. Well, you try saying 'Fuck' and keeping a large boiled sweet in your mouth at the same time.

* Rrrrrrrriiiipsquelch *


Instead of last year's red nose* on the front of the Broom, there was an entire red body trimmed in dirty white fur with one and a half feet of gnarled ash Broom handle rammed up it's rather large chuff. It's eyes were watering copiously into it's bushy white beard.

Lawks! I'd knobbled Father Christmas! The reindeer scattered, breaking loose from the reins. Two of them headed for the football ground, one shot straight up and the rest barrelled off over the city leaving the sleigh to spiral downwards into the river.

I slammed on the brakes and Santa shot off the end, stripping the Broom handle as he went. He must have really clenched...

In a mix of mild horror and outright mirth, I watched as he tumbled through the air rather gracelessly - I expected more from Santa, perhaps a double salco? - and impacted rather heavily against Morrison's clock tower. It's a good job it had various handholds or he would have slid down on to the anti-pigeon spikes and we'd be eating Santa Kebabs for Christmas dinner!

It's at this point that I should point out that the clock tower probably isn't what you're imagining. It barely towers at all, being only two metres higher than the rest of the glass and metal roof. It's crowning glory is a black and yellow digital clock. Classy, eh? At least if it had a proper clock face, Father Christmas could have hung on to the hour or minute hand, a la Harold Lloyd, and I could have had more of a laugh as time ticked on getting ready to dump him unceremoniously onto the spikes below.

As I hovered there wondering what to do, holding my nose - Santa must have been eating cauliflower cheese for the last couple of days judging by the vile stench coming from the neatly stripped Broom handle - a spectral light appeared behind me, along with the smell of fish & chips mixed with Tweed by Lentheric. It could only mean one thing: Aunty X-Mas!

The late-middle-aged, rather overweight, Ghost of Anti-Christmas phased in on the back of Broom, even now this early on Christmas Eve, as tiddled as an excited puppy. There was only one thing I could do, so I did it.

"Ta ra!" I yelled in her face as she fully spectralised. "You can sort him out" and I pointed at the dangling Father Christmas, gunning the acceleratrix, leaving her sitting in mid air as I shot off towards home, waving over my shoulder.


Merry Christmas!

* I couldn't just say 'instead of nothing' so I took some creative liberty and made up the faded and cracked red nose. I wouldn't be seen dead or undead with one of those monstrosities strapped to any form of my personal transport.

Thursday 21 December 2006

I'm back!

Oh, I do exist. I am alive.

If you're thinking that December 6th post down there wasn't there earlier, you'd be right. I made use of a little time travel to finish it off - until I got bored - Yes, thank you! Miserable git.

Wednesday 6 December 2006


Though she may be nothing but a collection of thoughts, a few ink marks on paper, a character in another universe, Esmerelda Weatherwax is nothing short of inspiring. Her steely gaze and stern demeanor, while not especially aspirational, are certainly fearsome and intimidating. It was this that kept me forging ahead with the Borrowing, a skill that Granny Weatherwax had more than perfected.

I reached out to the myriad blurs of Swarm surrounded by their Supernatural images, felt their infestation, their purpose, their direction. They were easy to subdue, at first. The front lines fell instantly, but the further forward I spread my silver mind, the more taxing it became. I wanted to find out how Swarm had managed to project these images of humanoids around each of itselves. It was not an ability we were aware that it had. I couldn't afford to investigate further as I had to keep my psy-grasp on the fallen Swarm lest it reestablish itselves.

As I accumulated more and more, I saw through their eyes, if they indeed had such sense organs. Dragon swooped down on me/them, immolating us with her firey breath - I let those Swarm go for they were now charred and useless. We couldn't penetrate the Lady's telekinetic forcefield to attack her and our number diminished as she picked us off with her piercing psi-needles. Blacksmith, his mighty body covered in metal armour, beat us and crushed us with his various metallic weapons. Finally, we saw Knight wrestling with Salamander, his psi-armour almost gone. He was naked and filthy, covered in muck and blood, mostly his own, but we saw a swathe of ochre meaning his opponent was wounded, too.

Suddenly, Salamander got the upper hand and pushed Knight's face into the mud.

He'd drown!

We barrelled down upon them, that part of Swarm becoming me, and covered Salamander, pulling him from Knight while cutting him all over with our claws/teeth/machines. Knight spluttered for air as Salamander screamed and flailed at us, smashing us and swiping us from his ripped and torn skin.

Another scream joined in. The Lady! She fell into the marsh under the combined forces of Swarm, the part of it that had escaped me as I fretted about Knight. Her 'field had almost gone and Swarm was dangerously close to her. Luckily, Blacksmith appeared and ensnared the clicking, whirring things in dozens of metal tentacles before crushing them.

Failing to overcome the exhaustion, I found myself, all of myself, back in Seer's arms. He gazed down at me, the faintest of smiles flickered over his face.

"Hello" he said, softly. I just looked at him, defeated. "I know where the Queen is" he offered. "I was going to send Wraith, but saw you returning".

The Queen? He must have meant the Monarch of Swarm! "No" I commanded.


"Don't send Wraith. She's too young." I lifted my head, glancing around at our surroundings. The Lady had reestablished her 'field and was protecting us. Blacksmith had captured Salamander in thick metal bands, and someone else, too. Was it Crystaleyes? Whoever it was, was also unconscious and bound in metal. Knight was on his feet swinging his psi-mace, holding more of Swarm back. "Where is it?" I breathed. "Where is Monarch?"

"She... It" Seer corrected himself, "it's in those bushes" and he pointed over to the west where a dark smudge in the distance could've been a straggle of scrubby bushes.

"I'll go." Resigning myself to the task, I struck out before Seer could object. My silver mind slipping across the marsh unseen, albeit slowly and distractedly. I tried not to think of Knight, tried not to see him but my sub-sight thwarted me. It was drawn to him. I was drawn to him. Why now, at this most inopportune moment? I thought we'd got our feelings sorted out?

Bugger this. I'm bored. The end.

Thank Christ for that!

Sunday 3 December 2006


"Christ! There's hundreds of them!"

"What the...?"

Knight snapped out of it first. "Are they real?"


"Are they real?" he yelled.

The Lady hesitated. "I... I can't tell" she almost whispered. "There are so many minds."

"Lady, you have to find out" Knight was almost shaking her. "You have to find out!"

She faltered, stumbling on the marshy ground. The hem of her long dress was soaking up the foul, dark water, creating spreading stains that crept slowly upwards. "Yes" she finally said. "Yes. They're real."


I watched in terrified awe at the crowd charging us. Most were running. The rest were in flight. Some were leaping, crawling, undulating toward us.
They brandished weapons and menace. As they closed in on us, I could make out a few with visible supernatural attributes and abilities. Distorted bodies and unnatural shapes. Surges and coronas of psi energy, flashes of darklight. Sparks of destruction.

Knight took point, his armour flashing into existence, psi weapons bristling from his lighted form. Blacksmith took his position at Knight's left. Huge slabs of metal hung from him so that he looked somewhat like a bipedal rhinoceros. I knew my place and fell in at Knight's right, out of range of his deadly psi blades and lances. From the regular wafts of cool evening air that ruffled my hair sticking out from under my pointed hat, I knew Dragon was hovering above. Casting a glance back over my left shoulder, I caught the Lady's eye. She gave me a wan smile as she directed Seer and Wraith back across the muddy field. As the youngest and least experienced, they were to be saved the initial onslaught. They would, however, be our last line of defence when... No, if we failed.

I connected to Knight. Do what you can. Everything that you must he instructed me. Then, somewhat desperately, Anything. He smiled, warm but distant. Accepting. Of us, or our impending fate, I didn't know. I smiled back then turned to face the advancing mob, my heart pounding in the confines of my chest.

I drew out my broom and cast hex upon hex until curspheres littered the air around me. I didn't know what they'd do - I didn't care, fear had gripped me. As long as they did something. I cast a few more for good measure. One for each of the approaching swarm.


I spun quickly to face the Lady. She caught my thought.


I didn't recognise any of the enemy, except for Salamander who was pushing steadily through Knight's shields and diverting his blades.


Where had they all come from?


They weren't real!

"It's Swarm" the Lady shouted, forgetting her telepathy.

I dropped my hexes and fell back, creating a hole in our defences. "Lady. Keep them off me" I instructed. Dutifully, she raised a telekinetic shield to repel the mob. Seer came running towards me, mud splashing everywhere. Good. He had Seen my intentions. I fell backwards, trusting Seer to catch me. He did. Before I was even in his arms, I was searching them out.

I would Borrow Swarm!


Wraith is the codename for a Supernatural teenager, who is a junior member of the Seven.

Her real name is Emma and she lives in Norfolk with her mother, Karen, and twin brother Lucien. She has a teenagers effortlessly skinny body and is known for her pretty looks. She's somewhat vapid and can be a bit of a cow.

Known abilities consist of becoming invisible and phasing through solid objects, although she cannot do both at the same time. She is also unable to render anyone or anything else invisible or incorporeal. The only exception to this is if something is inside her, such as a small object in her mouth or enclosed in her cupped hands.

Friday 1 December 2006

Don't ask

Right. That's enough of that! The Host is becoming insufferable. To make matters worse, we got ogled by a Gayer in a Renault Clio the other morning. Honestly...

It just wasn't the same, though. Miss T was right, Porsche Man™ is a Fuckwit!

Anyway, must dash (or beard), as we've got loads to do. The least of which is to brush up on our 'Meeting Minor Celebrities Etiquette'. You see, we're going to the opening of an eminent radio personality's new kitchen & extension on Monday, which is being opened by, none other than Adam Rickett (who just happens to be in Panto here in Norwich). Don't ask. I'll reveal all, so to speak, next week.

Tuesday 21 November 2006

Saturday 18 November 2006

Friday 17 November 2006

Thursday 16 November 2006

Monday 13 November 2006

Cartoon crushes

After inadvertantly blurting out at Dinah's that I had weird cartoon crushes that would make me seem like a pervert, I thought I'd better try and justify myself. This is going to be difficult...

The first, as you can see here, is Hot Rod from the Transformers. Yes, he's a giant robot. And no, I don't know if he indeed has a 'hot rod'. I bet he has though...

Besides, that's not the point. The point is that he's totally fanciable. He looks good, both as a car and a robot, he's fun, exciting, cocky, looks after himself - he has a great body/chassis. Ummmm... This hole's getting a lot deeper. Look, here's his official technical specifications - what better way of convincing you?

Tech Spec "My actions speak louder than words." Hot Rod is an all-American-boy Autobot. He's a typical adolescent who dreams of being heroic and important. He tends to not follow rules too closely. Although he means well, Hot Rod's impulsive actions often get him into trouble. He carries two photon lasers that temporarily electromagnetize an enemy robot's microcircuts.

Speed: 120mph. Range: 4 miles.

He can be hotheaded, but he's always a well meaning, admirable lad and a brave and honorable fighter.

Strength 10, Intelligence 10, Speed 9, Endurance 10, Rank 10, Courage 7, Firepower 10, Skill 10

Those scores are out of 10, you know. See? Hot Rod's a catch! He's strong, clever, fast, can go the distance, has power, is pretty brave, has a big gun and knows how to use it!

- - -

And now for my second cartoon crush: Diego, the sabre-toothed tiger from Ice Age.

I know: It's an animal. I'm not into bestiality! Really. Obviously, it's his personal journey from killer cat to 'part of the herd' that I like. And the way he (just about) puts up with Sid. That and his voice - thank you Denis Leary.

- - -

I'm going to stop now before I make things even worse. Actually, There is one more cartoon crush, but unfortunately I couldn't find any pictures of him. It's the man from the Domino's Pizza advert that sponsors The Simpson's on Sky One. Compared to Hot Rod and Diego, he's completely normal. A cartoon human with great hair, twinkly eyes, a cheeky face and a good body (when he jumps up into the air with excitement in anticipation of a pizza, his shirt lifts up and we get to see his flat stomach complete with belly button) - despite eating loads of pizzas. Oh, he also has a Bitch Wife™. Reminds me of Pete...

Saturday 11 November 2006

Thursday 9 November 2006

Headline News!

Shock update!

I saw Porsche Man™ yesterday on my way to work!

Well, I saw a reasonably good looking man driving a blue Porsche, anyway. He did ogle me - it could have just been a quick glance but I prefer to think of it as something a bit more lascivious - so it must've been the same man. He had a personalised number plate as well, something with S's and 7s. Possibly a D, too. And even a W. My eyesight is not terribly good - especially at 07:15 in the morning. My memory is even worse!

The thing is, the Porsche appeared a darker light blue than I remember (I know I've just admitted my memory is more than a bit rubbish) and the guy driving wasn't quite as good looking either. But, he did look.

Now I don't know if it's the same guy and my memory just isn't playing ball, or it's a different guy and I am displaying Porsche Man pulling powers.

I wonder if I'll see him tomorrow?

And another (completely unrelated) thing:

A visit to a cubicle in the mens room at work* today (for a number one - don't do work poos) left me somewhat perturbed.

I entered the cubicle to find the toilet lid down. Lawks, I thought, What horrors lurk beneath? It was with some trepidation that I lifted the lid, imagining some vile monstrosity to come leaping out, something like the shit weasels from Dreamcatcher. Thank goodness the coast was clear. I'm always worried when visiting a cubicle and finding the toilet seat down. It must've been from the time I saw what looked like a bucket-full of bolognaise smeared all over the bowl...

* Too many weirdos to go at the urinal.

Monday 6 November 2006


Continued from... Sharp Prick

"250 years from now, someone's going to find one of your toenail clippings and create an effigy of you. Using a rather ancient microwave oven, some modern technology, a previously worthless spell and the said effigy, you will be almost successfully summoned to 2257" my visitor explained.

"Almost successfully?" I finally manage to ask.

"Unfortunately, you arrive somewhat overdone" he reluctantly admits.

I just look at him blankly for a while before saying "Oh. We all survive, then?"
He looks uncomfortable, then says "In a manner of speaking. The Host's body dies but his spectral form is still hanging around - As you can imagine, he was less than thrilled - He's becoming quite a nuisance, actually."

"What about me?"

"Well, we managed to find your subconscious, as you can tell for I am hosting it. As for the rest of you..."


"We're not entirely sure."

Oh Jebus! The future is full of nincompoops. "I see. What's your name, anyway?"

"Conrad Folkard-Device" he replies. "You forced... Sorry. Your Subconscious persuaded me to take the name."

"Are you any relation?" I asked, as I normally end up in someone from the family tree.

"Yes, actually. To the Host. Not directly descended from him, due him being a Gayer and not reproducing, but I'm his youngest sister's great-to-the-power-of-six grandson." He looks at his rather elegant watch. "Look. I must go. I'm on a break - I only get 15 minutes."

"So you're here why, exactly?"

"Oh, yes. That. I just came to pick up this" and he bends over, retrieving a toenail clipping from behind the lav before proffering it to me. "Get rid of it."

"Thanks" I said. "I think."

"Obviously, it's too late for us as this has already happened, but hopefully you can be spared" he says.

"Spared being split into my component parts?"

"Um... Yes."

"Of course."

"Right. Must be off. I'm supposed to be on the bridge in two minutes."


"Bye, then."

And with that he disappeared, leaving me completely starkers, holding a bit of toenail on my bathroom floor.

Really? What was the point?

Sunday 5 November 2006

Sharp prick

I found myself on hands and knees on the bathroom floor the other night.

And you can stop those thoughts right there!

Honestly, feed you a line and you gobble it down like you haven't eaten in a week.

Lawks! etc. etc...

Anyway, there I was, painstakingly locating and retrieving all the bits of finger and toenail that I'd accidently spread all over the floor with a flick of the towel*, when the light was suddenly obscured.

"What the...?" I exclaimed, looking up. "Oh."

"Hello" the light obscurer said. "Sorry to just turn up like this."

I squinted as I looked into the eyes of my visitor, then recognition kicked in. "Hmmm... You could've waited a few minutes - I'm not dressed."

"Yes. I can see" my visitor admitted, wincing slightly.

"Hey! I don't know what that look was for?"

"What do you mean? What 'look'?"

"That wincing look." I was getting mildly annoyed now. "You've been in me before - you should be familiar with this."

"Yes. Well. That was a long time ago."

"Speaking of which, when are you coming from?"


"Ah. That would explain the ridiculous get-up."

My visitor just looked down his nose at me before saying "I expect you want to know what I'm doing here?"

Funnily enough, I didn't. And I told him so. "No."

"Not even a little curious?" he asked.

"Look. I'm hot, tired and naked" I replied. "I'm more curious about my bed."

"Well, you haven't got the luxury of sleep. At least not yet."

Continued in... Ouch!

* This might be TMI, but I find it easier to clip finger & toenails during or after a bath as the hot water makes them softer and easier to cut. I usually collect as I clip and leave them in a little pile on the edge of the bath rather than leave them rolling around at the bottom of the bath - there's nothing worse than feeling a sharp prick in one's bum when wallowing around in the bath...

Saturday 4 November 2006

Tuesday 31 October 2006

Exacting Vengeance

I smiled grimly as the tinder was lit.

- - -

The witch exploded. Internal organs festooning the branches of the tree. They glistened slickly in the light of the yellow moon. The only sounds were of the drops of blood hitting the dry ground beneath the tree.

When the sun rose in the morning, the tree was devoid of innards. Instead, it bristled with crows. Each one sleek and glossy and well fed. That evening, as the people returned to their homes from their toil and errands and affairs, they were watched. A pair of bright black eyes were fixated on each and every one of them. The pair watching the Baron clouded over momentarily and blinked...

There was silence.

- - -

Do you know where your ancestors were 600 years ago? I do.

Do you know what they were doing? To me?

They will rue the day I curse, as I insinuate myself within the circuitry of the machine.

Ahhhhh... I sigh, as my signal spreads throughout the web.

Now I touch all.

- - -

That reflection in your screen.

That shadow on your wall.

The shiver down your spine and the breath upon your neck.

Oh, don't turn around. I don't need to see your face.

That creak, that groan. It's not the floorboards warping in the heat.

Those noises aren't from the house settling.

That sound like voices whispering as the washing machine turns.

That tick-tock, clink-clank from the water pipes.

It's not them. It's me. I'm seeping through your house.

Can you see that figure, lurking in the shadows from the window?

Can you see that face, staring out from the folds of cloth?

I can see you. I can see all of you.

When you're in bed, get under the covers and don't put your head out.

Don't bother with the light, you'll just be able to see me more clearly.

If you don't look, you'll never know what hit you.

It's for the best.

Do you feel that lightest of touches on the back of your neck?

I'm right behind you.

And I don't know if I'll ever go away...


Wednesday 25 October 2006

Witches Abroad

Actually, that should be The Witch Is Abroad. And not foreign abroad, either. I'm not leaving the country or anything. I just need a little down time otherwise I might snap into my component parts! The Host, for once, is in agreement and won't be here either.

I/we should be back in time for Hallowe'en, though. Don't do anything too exciting while I'm/we're gone!

Here's a Horrendous Space Kablooie to keep you going:

UPDATE: 18:29: Shitting Hell! I just cried at Futurama - the one where Leela gets stung by giant space bees and is in a coma, and Fry wakes her by talking to her. I think I'm snapping...

Monday 23 October 2006


I'm back.

Car worked beautifully - I love it again.

I just clicked on The Lady Muck's site to find that it's been assimilated by porn. Straight porn!

What the Hell?

For your own safety I've removed the link.

M'Lady? If you're reading this - What happened? Where are you?

I'm now off to check her link at other sites...

- - -


I got as far as Tickers' and the same thing happened. I was so horrified that I couldn't even comment on his latest post.


Thursday 19 October 2006

Gear up for blow up

" Disengage counterbalancers."

" Fire up hormonal generators."

"Crank up lung capacity."

"Prepare larynx for Code Red usage."

"Counter balancers disengaged."

"Airflow at 98%. Heartbeat on overdrive."

"Gear up spleen for venting."

"Larynx at Red Alert!"

"Lung capacity at maximum. All airways cleared and ready for action."

"Ten seconds to Spleen venting!"

"Rage levels at Incoherence!"

"Tongue released for lashing - clear the area!"

"Spleen venting in five... four... three..."

"Hit the decks! It's gonna blow!"


Car had slipped into a coma - its battery power had dropped to near terminal levels. Consequeyntely, it wouldn't start. And I'm supposed to be going to London tomorrow. Ealing, to be precise, to see one of my best friends. Typically, Witchface has 'popped out' - gone to haunt TGOC Future's I shouldn't wonder - so I can't just hex the battery into life. All the hexes are still stored in my/our brain, it's just that IDV's filing system is a little haphazard, and I don't want to accidently use the wrong one. I mean, how is one supposed to get to london on a space hopper? Well, within three hours, that is.

The thought of getting a train (or trains and buses) made my blood run cold, so I enlisted the assistance of my neighbour, who is 'good with cars'. After rummaging through his less than tidy garage, we came upon two sets of jump leads. After much clacking together of the crocodile-jaw-bits at the ends, after the other ends had been connected to his car's battery, we discovered that none of them worked. Drat.

He then said he'd have to tow Car so I could release the clutch and start it. After much wailing and gnashing of teeth (and only a little hair being pulled out - mine, not his as he's bald) - because new cars shouldn't be push/pull started because of the danger of the catalytic converter being damaged by petrol or somesuch - I agreed to the procedure. Well, I was desperate!

Somewhat ignominously, Car was tied to the back of my neighbour's crappy old Nissan Sunny and towed down the road. I let the clutch out slowly.

Nothing happened.

Then I realised I hadn't turned the key. Oops!

I turned the key and let the clutch out again. Car roared spluttered into consciousness. Yaayyy! I took Car for a spin - well, more like a marathon - along Norwich's southern bypass. Twice. Then stopped at Sainsbury's for some essentials (read: pizza & wine). Luckily, Car started perfectly in Sainsbury's car park and is now parked outside my house, conserving its energy - I hope - for starting up again tomorrow.

Wish me luck!

Monday 16 October 2006

On the third stroke, it will be two minutes ago, precisely * beep beep beep *

I've worked out why I haven't seen Porsche Man since last week. It's because I'm leaving the house at the wrong time.

Usually, I check the time by the kitchen clock, but lately, I've been a bit haphazard in my morning routine and have been checking the time by the dining room clock and also by the stereo timer. Yesterday, I even went by the video clock. It wasn't until this morning that I realised that all my clocks told a different time.

Or, at least, I thought they did. In fact, something far more vexing had happened.

- - -

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching.

My alarm clock went off, rudely rousing me from a dream that dissolved before I could remember it. I thrashed and flailed until my fingers connected with it, stopping its incessant shrill screeching. Perhaps this time I'd better make some sort of effort to get up?

I squinted at the clock. Meh! 06:15. OK, I really had better get up this time.

After struggling into some underwear and trousers, sloppily making the bed and opening the curtains by hand - I never use magic when I first wake up, not after that unfortunate incident involving the partition wall, a sleeping neighbour and a concertina* - I grabbed a shirt & tie and made my way carefully downstairs where my first stop was the living room: Open curtains, check Car** is still outside and that no one's parked too close it, glance at video clock - 06:27.

In the dining room, I hang my shirt & tie on the back of a chair, open the blinds, remember I haven't brought my cuff links down so trudge upstairs to get them. As I reach the bottom of the stairs for the second time, cuff links safely in hand, movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention. I snap my head around to the right. For a fleeting moment I think I catch a glimpse of a half naked figure in the living room heading for me! However, it's gone before I really have time to think about it. Anyway, it was probably my reflection in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs. Wasn't it?

As I head to the kitchen, casually dumping the cuff links on the dining room table, I look at the clock again - 06:27. Huh? Oh well...

In the kitchen, I grab a glass of fruit juice and gulp it down, noticing the time on the wall clock as I tip my head back to get the last few drops - 06:24. Sod. The clock must be slow. Or the others are fast? Never mind. Leaving the empty glass on the draining board, I pass through the utility room*** and into the bathroom.

After washing my hands & face and putting my contact lenses in, I make a quick effort with my hair. It has to be a quick effort: If my hair doesn't sweep, slick and stick up/out with a couple of precision gel-enabled swipes, it never will - I could be working on it for half an hour and still not be satisfied. Returning to the kitchen, I pick up the glass to get another shot of juice, noting the time on the thermostat in front of my face - 06:27. Turning towards the fridge, I suddenly start! I could've sworn someone, of the half naked variety, was in the dining room. Giving the dining room my full attention, I discover that it is free of extraneous people. Hmmm...

I make my sandwiches - tuna, horseradish & mayonnaise on wholemeal bread (of course!) - wash a couple of apples and wrap them in kitchen roll and retrieve my mug for work. As I go to get my bag from the utility room, I look up at the kitchen wall clock again - 06:44. Shit! Must get a move on.

In the dining room, I pack my bag with my lunch and the few other things I need - wallet, phone and fully charged wand. Blast! I didn't switch my phone off. I scoop it out of the depths of my bag and turn it off, noticing the time before the display goes dark - 06:47.

Uh oh. Haven't brushed my teeth. Back to the bathroom where I give my fangs a good going over. After a couple of rinses, I'm satisfied with the way the light glints disturbingly off them. Excellent (said/thought in Mr Burns style complete with steepling finger action)! Hanging the towel up, I look through to the kitchen and see someone leaning over the worktop!

Holy crap! It's me!

I storm through the utility room and into the kitchen only to find that I'm not there. Looking around uncertainly I see nothing untoward. Where am I? Was I seeing things? It is still early in the morning, after all. A quick glance at the clock confirms it - 06:47. Then I see myself packing my bag in the dining room. What the...?

Now in the dining room, I'm not there either. What's going on? My bag's packed, just as I left it. Perhaps the four minds of me have finally caused me to go mad(der)? Anyway, I haven't got time for this if I'm going to make it out of the house in time to see Porsche Man. It's 06:51 already!

I rush upstairs to slather my face in anti-ageing (ha!) moisturisers and potions and inspect my crowsfeet in the mirror - Crikey! It looks like the crows have invited an ostrich or two over! Back downstairs, I put on my shirt, tie & cuff links, inspect myself in the mirror - that'll have to do - grab my keys and the hand moisturiser. As I massage the cream into my hands, I take a look at the time - 07:07! Shiiiiiit!

Hauling my bag over my head & shoulder, I step into the kitchen to leave via the back door. Another glance at the kitchen clock - 07:04. That's better. However, as I open the door, I gaze through to the dining room and see myself standing in front of the mirror adjusting my tie. Eeeeeeeeeek! Oh no. Oh no. What's more important? Finding out what the Hell is going on in my house or catching Porsche Man's eye in the hope that he'll stop and whisk me off somewhere?

Luckily, Shallowness kicks in and Porsche Man comes up trumps. However, along with Shallowness comes Uncommon Sense. As I battle past the jungle outside my back door, I realise what has happened: Time in my house has come a little unstuck. It's not that the clocks are wrong - they are, in fact, right - they're telling the right time for the time zone they're in. Somehow, each room in my house has separated itself from the timeline and is doing its own thing a few minutes apart from everything else.

Now I'm going to have to get Chronosfear around here to amalgamate my errant time zones. I don't like to have him around here as he always leaves a lingering smell of eggs...


* A story for another time.
** Car is neither male nor female, and doesn't have a name other than Car. I still love it and talk to it, though.
*** Barely a room at all. It's just a space between the kitchen and bathroom that houses the airing cupboard and a rather temperamental and difficult washing machine. Git!

Friday 13 October 2006


I was clearing out my back passage at the weekend.  

This one, you perverts: 

As you can see, it had become a little overgrown. What with the weather taking a turn for the worse now that Autumn has settled in, it was about time the house plants were returned to the house and the larger, overhanging plants, such as the Zantedeschia, were moved back out of the way. You see, when it rains, the plants just fling the accumulated water on one when brushing past them, leaving one absolutely drenched. 

Anyway, I had the fright of my life when I moved the Acanthus. Lurking behind it was a colony of fairies. Contrary to popular belief, they're not beautiful, elegant little creatures. They're vile little monsters. A pox on nature and society. Scabbing off decent hardworking folk, turning milk, stealing washing and spreading disease. Naturally, I cursphered the flyspray to me and gave the little bleeders a good dose, almost asphyxiating myself in the process. Good job they hadn't set up their colony in the house.  

At this point, Nuffy came hurtling out of the back door, ears flattened and growling. He leapt, catching one in mid air then shook it vigorously until it hung limp in his mouth. The remaining fairies took off into the evening sky. They were easy to spot as they glowed faintly with a sickly yellow light. I managed to bring a couple down with a well aimed thaumic charge from my wand but the rest escaped. Sod! They'd set up colonies somewhere else in the neighbourhood now. And this was such a nice place to live too.