W-W-W-WOW! May edition

Yes, it's the end of the month, so another edition of What the Wicked Witch Watched and Other Whimsies hits the stands. This time, due to Indescribable's nuptials on the 14th, it's a special wedding issue! And, yes, that's her on the wraparound front cover about to elbow her husband in the face. Actually, the background of the Features index is her, too. Well, her bouquet, Greek goddess-inspired frock and her decolletage - Don't worry, I faded it out a bit to spare you the horror.
Now, I had planned to return to blogging full time* at the beginning of this month, but I was under orders to make Indescribable's wedding cake, plus a birthday cake for a Work Hag's huntsman (not quite)hubby - you may see it in it's blood splattered gory glory below - as well as deal with our burgeoning vegetable patch - also below - and a clonked Car! All these tasks meant regular(ish) blogging went out of the window. Again. Perhaps I'll return in June?

Poor, poor bunnies. The fish? Meh. Whatever.

On the left: Vegetable patch as of 2nd May. On the right: 29th May, repleat with (from left to right, ignoring the pots full of lupin, hollyhock, lavender & foxglove seedlings) runner beans, peas, Little Gem & Iceberg lettuces, spring onions, carrots, more beans, a pumpkin, tomatoes, red & green curly leafed lettuces, a courgette, more peas and even more beans. I don't even like beans, so I hope SP is going to eat them all!

A clonked Car. Not clonked by me before you start pointing accusatory fingers. Car was waiting patiently for me to finish my swim and was unceremoniously reversed into by another Alfa. Luckily, we Alfisti stick together so the clonker left a note with her details which means Car should be as good as new imminently.

Actually, speaking of June (up there, before the photos), you may notice that the DVD for Attack of the Smug Marrieds is out in June. June 7th, to be precise, which is the Director's birthday, coincidentally.

And with that, I bid you a short goodbye. See you in June!





* That's full time for me, not everyone else's full time - i.e. two or three posts a week, give or take. Mainly take.

Witches getting on Beast's wick

It didn't take long for the blood to stop rushing to his brain and the almost overwhelming nausea and vertigo to fade. As the gold and blue fireworks cleared and his vision returned, he noticed the vast expanse of reeds around him and a distant mansion at the end of a sweeping gravel driveway.
There were voices, too, in mid-conversation.
"Of course, I wouldn't know a snowy egret if I were pissing on one. Lunch?"
"I think it's a little late in the season."
"For lunch?"
"No, pissing on birds."
There was a pause which was when he realised that the two, very familiar, conversationalists were staring at him. Quickly taking in his surroundings, adding two and two together and resignedly coming up with four, he despaired and his shoulders fell.
Oh, no, he thought to himself. Oh, please no. Outwardly, he sighed at the realisation that he'd been dragged over the Cusp again without so much as a by your leave. It was his bloody day off from Cafe C and here he was, over the bloody Cusp in bloody Eastwick, dressed as bloody Fidel to do the bloody bidding of Tim bloody 'Van Horne' and 'Alexandra' bloody DeVice. Plus the rest of the bloody Coven, no doubt. If he'd surmised correctly, they were at the point in the story where Van Horne had invited Alex for lunch - read: banquet - which he, as Fidel, was to prepare. Bloody. Hell.
And to make matters worse, this was yet another non-speaking part. And on his birthday too!
By this time, the stares had turned into baleful gimlet glares with no small amount of contempt evident. Nodding submissively at Tim's unspoken order for an elaborate lunch with which to woo IDV, Beast's shoulders slumped even more as he trudged off towards the mansion kitchens.

A hard day's work later found Beast grappling with suspiciously stiff and stained bed sheets following Tim and IDV's 'retirement' after the lavish meal he'd prepared for them. He shuddered at the memory of them discussing the size of his Roy Cropper bag as if he wasn't right there waiting on them hand and foot, all the while wolfing down his exquisite succulent pork balls and sausage in cider (complete with glistening tomatoes and a constellation of assorted salad vegetables, studded with black olives. Somewhat bizarrely, he thought, they'd declined his kipper surprise). A whimpering that was loud enough to be heard over the crunching of folding sheets snapped him out of his reverie. It was coming from the en suite bathroom. Dropping the sheets with a thud, Beast gingerly opened the door and peered into the steamy room. There was someone curled up in the shower, rocking and crying. It was Tim!
Sighing, Beast prepared himself to comfort the poor boy following IDV's relentless pestering and innuendoing amongst other unmentionable things. Although, quite why Tim put up with it, and even came back for more, was beyond him. Perhaps Tim actually liked it?

That evening, after rushing around getting the washing in after the witches made it rain while playing an infernal game of tennis, vacuuming the entire mansion and clearing up hundreds of balloons from the grand hall & staircase, an exhausted Beast was labouring again over a hot stove to create a meal fit for a bunch of queens. Tim, now fully recovered thanks to Beast's tear & snot-sodden shoulder, along with IDV, Cyber'Jane' and Princess 'Sukie', were mucking about on the poolside, oblivious to all the hard work Beast had put in. To make things worse, Mr C had lumbered Beast with Alfie & Lloyd while he went out to purchase new swimming trunks after the aforementioned Hell Hounds had devoured his existing pair. Gods knew how Mr C had managed to get them over the Cusp. Beast suspected Mr C's demonic inklings were more than just inklings.
With dinner finally ready, Beast wiped the sweat from his brow, pulled off his pinny and picked up the dinner bell before walking out to the swimming pool. Fighting his way through the sheets draped around the room (well, he had to hang the bloody washing somewhere to dry out after that magical rainstorm, didn't he), he raised his bell-hand intending to give it a good shake. However, Alfie & Lloyd got there first. Alfie jumped up at the bell while Lloyd wound himself around the hapless Beast's feet, tripping him up.
Time seemed to slow down as Beast plummeted to the hard tiled floor. He watched the bell describing a perfect arc through the air as it fell from his grasp. He saw the strings and globules of slobber spray out from Alfie's gaping maw as he lunged for the bell. And he noticed the witches levitating over the pool, laughing and giggling while Tim watched from his vantage point, reclined on a chaise longue eating cherries.
Then the bell, narrowly escaping Alfie's snapping jaws, landed with a crash on the tiles. The loud, jarring clang brought time snapping back to it's normal flow and, with it, screams from the witches, all three of whom fell unceremoniously into the pool fully clothed. Beast permitted himself a gleeful smirk. His mirth at their misfortune was short lived however.
"Beast!" Tim yelled. "What the hells are you doing? Stop messing about with those dogs and help the... Girls" he grimaced, "into some nice, clean, fluffy bathrobes." Before he could reply, Tim continued. "And we've run out of cherries - Fetch some more. Preferably some that haven't 'enjoyed' the same experience as your bananas. Oh, and don't bother with dinner - We had pizza delivered earlier and aren't hungry anymore." Beast stood up with his mouth agape. "Well? Snap to it, then!"

The next morning found poor Beast armed with a pair of tongs at the poolside, picking up pieces of Tim's ripped Speedos from the swathes of cherry stones that littered the tiles. He'd politely shunned Tim's request to don rubber gloves for the task, due to his phobia, so as not to contaminate the Speedos with Beastliness, hence the kitchen tongs. He tried not to think how one small pair of trunks could get torn into so many pieces, but knew he'd be consoling Tim very soon when he remembered the 'guests' Tim had been 'entertaining'. Tim usually sold the worn, unwashed trunks on Ebay along with various 'during' photos to various perverts (none of whom live in Norwich, by the way. None at all.) which was how he funded his materialistic, hedonist lifestyle.
Picking up the last shred from the Speedo jigsaw, Beast jumped as Tim bellowed at him from upstairs.
"Beast? Get my car ready," he commanded. "We're going out to get breakfast. Bagels and ice-cream. Now!"
Giving a world-weary sigh, Beast popped the last bit of Speedo into the zip-lock bag containing the rest and headed out to the garage.

In what would have been a hair-raising journey had he got any later, Beast was deposited in the market place while Tim roared off in his MINI Clubfootman for ice-cream. Despite his repeated offers to chauffeur Tim into town, Tim had refused, citing Beast's tendency to drive like an old woman.
Fifteen minutes later, Beast emerged from the hardware store laden down with purchases. It was then that he noticed the wind had got up somewhat. Suddenly, a gale-force gust blew through the market square carrying Tim with it amidst a cloud of feathers. He was filthy - Covered in mud and half-digested cherries, and his clothes were torn and ripped where they'd been scraped along the tarmac. After a brief struggle, Tim managed to get in the car and roared off leaving Beast standing alone with his armfuls of shopping.
Oh, well, Beast sighed to himself. It's probably best that he left me here. I'm sure I don't want to know what they're up to now. Although, I imagine the clearing up will be left up to me again. He huffed and began the long trudge back to the mansion. Perhaps Mr C's tyrannical ruling of Cafe C and his diva rants aren't so bad, after all? he pondered. And at least I haven't had to deal with MJ in this whole Cusp debacle. Speaking of witch which: I wonder where that old baggage is? She's always a part of these adventures.
It was then that he noticed someone on crutches, determinedly headed towards him across the green in front of the church, a steely glint in her eyes and a glassy glint of a bottle of Jameson's sticking out of her pocket.
Oh, dear. I spoke too soon...

The end?


~ ~ ~

Happy birthday, poor belaboured Beast!

~ ~ ~

All Beast photos courtesy of MJ. To find out more about poor Beast, why not click here for MJ's thoughtful snippets about him from last year.

W-W-W-WOW! April edition

~ ~ ~

I'm still not back, by the way.

Soon.

Maybe soon...

Beast has The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts!

Yes, those vile and contemptible shorts that we equally loathe and covet are in the UK once more!

See with your eyes the pan-global journey the 'Shorts have taken since their inception back at Christmas in 2004:

No, your eyes do not deceive you. I have, at long last, recreated the FGES Map!

For a definitive history of the 'Shorts illustrious 'caretakers', please click here to visit MJ's.

You'd better get your thinking caps on (I just hope they're not as disease-ridden as the 'Shorts) as Beast will be holding The Freakin' Green Elf Shorts Caption Competition soon. I hope.

~ ~ ~

By the way, this doesn't mean I'm back: I've had this post prepared since the 5th of February!
I may pop back at the end of April to post this month's wwwWOW!, but that'll be it for a while.

I hope you're all behaving yourselves?

* snort *
* snigger *

Ahem.

I Aten't Dead*

As you have no doubt surmised, due to my sporadic appearances both here and at your own blogs, I haven't had much time lately to visit the Blogworld. Hells, I've barely had time for any witchy activity over the Cusp! So, what I'm about to tell you shouldn't come as that much of a surprise:
I, the Host and the SubCs are taking a blog-break.
At the moment, I don't know how long this will be for. It may be a week, a month, or even longer. However, for those of you rejoicing and cheering, I will return at some point, so: Ha! Sorry to spoil your fun.

I was going to post this on the first, but thought you may misinterpret it as an April Fool, so, I've left it until now to ensure that all of you across the globe in your quaint little time zones, have left the first of April well and truly behind so there can be no confusion.

I'll leave you now with a few more cakes to keep you going - Lemon & coconut, for the curious amongst you. Oh, and if and when Beast receives those infernal 'Shorts, I'll pop back and post the new Freakin' Green Elf Shorts Map. I look forward to catching up with your various adventures when I'm back - Soon, hopefully.




Be good. Or at least not too evil.



* Click here and scroll down to the third paragraph to see where I nabbed the title from.

W-W-W-WOW! March edition

No time to write anything (other than this) - See you in April!

Gayer Cake

Note to self: Don't decorate cakes when bored...





... They turn out gay.

Shit! What was that?

Oh bugger. That was my youth.



Thank you, ExcelsiorUK.

Babysitting nightmare

So much for a relaxing night in in front of the telly. SP only agreed to 'babysit' Medusa's son - then promptly went out himself leaving me to deal with the gorgon-spawn.
I don't know why he even needs babysitting? I mean, he's bloody 19!

Oh, don't look the image in the eyes - That whole petrification thing still works.

Hmmm... Probably should have mentioned that first...

Who turned the Ley lines off?

Someone took out Norfolk's Ley lines last night causing no small amount of aerial consternation.

I was on my way back from Indescribable's last night, having had a 'consultation' about her wedding cake - She's getting married in May and asked if I would ordered me to make & decorate her cake. Anyway, after lots of shouting, arguing and gnashing of teeth, I left on Broom under the cover of darkness, nursing overloaded eardrums and the assaulted logic-centre of my brain. It was because of this that I wasn't really taking much notice of where I was going. I figured I'd just get to the Norfolk border and use the Leys to guide me home.
For those not in the know, Ley lines are not otherworldly, or magical in themselves, just alignments of certain places of geographical interest. However, for night flying, some enterprising entity illuminated the lines with a low-level thaumic charge to aid in navigation for those of us with second sight. Last night, however, Norfolk was dark.
It was only when I got to Evilden Elveden that I noticed how dark the countryside before me was. Luckily, I was flying over the A11 which went all the way to Norwich, so I just followed it, zeroed in on the illuminated Cathedral then turned right just before the airport (Norwich International, what with Norwich being a city and all), narrowly avoided a couple of nuns in a Mini-Metro* (who'd instigated a sudden left turn without putting their indicator on) by descending at speed into our cherry tree.
Needless to say, I am understandably livid. And scratched & bruised - When I moved in with SP, I thought I'd left cherry tree related injuries** behind me, but oh no, SP had to have a cherry tree in his garden, too. There must be some correlation between the supernatural and cherry trees...
Anyway, I have a feeling those Hoodie warlock hoodlums are at the bottom of the thaumic blackout, so I'm just off to do some sleuthing (think a cross between Angela Lansbury's Jessica Fletcher and Eglantine Price but without the old lady costuming) to find out for sure, before giving them what for!
I just hope the Leys will be charged up again soon, as I have some important after-hours business to attend to imminently.



* Quite what they were doing 500 feet up in an ancient, usually land-based Austin, I don't know. Although, I have heard that the Chattering Order of Saint Beryl has opened a convent in the area, which would explain a lot...
** To read more about cherry trees, click here, here or here.

Star Trek: Voyages That Never Were IV

Continued from... Star Trek: Voyages That Never Were III

You may be pleased to hear that this will probably be the last of these Voyages That Never Were posts as, although I have loads of old sketches and designs left, none of them are worthy of publishing. Although, there's always the possibility that I'll create more 'masterpieces' when bored or full of flights of fancy!As you can see, I liked my spherical hulled starships back whenever I created these images.
The Valiant-class vessel (above) would have been a TOS-era ship, probably first commissioned circa 2235.
The little Darwin-class ship (left) never made it past the sketch stage even though I liked the front view and how the secondary hull looked like it was upside down in the side view.
The T'Seren-class ship (below) I envisioned being partially designed by Vulcans (hence the name-see the last point) and brought into service in the 2340s as science & research vessels. I liked the yacht-like lower secondary hull, the elegant nacelles-the front of which look slightly like the bow of a Vulcan long-range shuttle, and the smooth simplicity of the spherical primary hull. I named it after Mount Seleya, on Vulcan.



Here we have four starships from different eras. The Sagittarius-class starship at the top is my favourite - It's a kitbash using a refit Excelsior-class primary hull & shortened secondary hull with Akira-class nacelles & pylons.
The Corona & Valiant-class (a different design to the first starship of this post) are from the TOS era, and the Reliant-class (named after the Miranda-class USS Reliant that Khan commandeered in Star Trek II) from the late 2290s.
I believe I traced some of the components from the Star Trek Encyclopaedia - There's very little freehand detail in these four starships.

The Sirius-class starship (below) was my interpretation of a capital ship from the TNG movie era - Perhaps the late 2370s or early 2380s. The rough sketch bears the name Excelsior, and I intended it to replace the original Excelsior NCC 2000 after almost 100 years of exemplary service.



And that's your lot. Enjoy. Or ignore... And thanks for being patient!


Continued in... Star Trek: The Voyages That Never Were V

Star Trek: Voyages That Never Were III

Continued from... Star Trek: The Voyages That Never Were II

I've had a busy weekend tidying, sorting and rearranging, and, therefore, have had little time for blogging again. So, in the absence of anything more interesting, may I present to you the third in the series of the Voyages That Never Were. As before, all these sketches are from years past. I'd probably drawn them some time in 1997 as the quilted shoulder uniforms that inspired these were first seen in November/December 1996 when Star Trek: First Contact and Deep Space Nine Rapture aired.
As I said to Princess in the comments there, "My freehand sketches tend to have somewhat bizarre proportions - in or out of a black hole." So, here are some ideas and variations of Starfleet uniforms modelled by those small of head and broad of shoulder:

These uniforms were based on those designs of the late 2360s-early 2370s and 2373 onwards era but using the department colours of the late 2270s-2350s, or thereabouts.

And these are the final designs:



And just to finish off with, the following sketches are of a masculine suit inspired by Seven of Nine's first silver spandex costume. There are also some Borg & Xenomorph oddities to peruse, too:


Continued in... Star Trek: The Voyages That Never Were IV