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)

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?

"What?"

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

"Get your filthy claws off me!"

* stamp *

"Oww!"

"What?" 

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.

"What?"

"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.

"Pardon?"

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.







Bugger.


* 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...

Vexations

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.

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 *

"...mmmmmmp!"

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.

Ha!

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.

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.

guard

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.

"What?"

"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!

Advance

"Christ! There's hundreds of them!"

"What the...?"

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

"Huh?"

"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."

"Shit."

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.

Swarm?

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

Swarm.

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

Swarm.

Where had they all come from?

Swarm!

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

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.

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.