A pint, hoisted in honor of Paul Newman!

tonight could get messy.

Tribes.

My high school was a very easy place to become lost in. Being your own person at that age leads to mockery and stone throwing. At that stage in life it's easiest to find a gang or group, or as the current parlance has it "tribe". You make yourself fit in by standing out. By dressing the same, having the same kind of hair styles and most importantly listening to the same kind of music.

It's always been this way I think, you were either a mod or a rocker, a greaser or a preppy an Emo or a goth. Back in caveman times you could probably be a mammoth or a Bear.

It's how we set a place for ourselves in society, how we define who we are.

When I was at school there were only two groups you could join. The first were the fashionable clothes wearing Ravers, and this was prepolished club Dance music which was, to give it its due, unlistenable shit without drugs. That was never going to suit me. I couldn't afford the clothes, I don't take drugs and the music didn't connect with me at all. All bleepy and cheesy and uninvolving. little did I know that most of the popular modern dance music would just be recycled eighties songs over a crap dance beat. I think I actually look back on that time now with a touch of nostalgia

So I joined the other 'gang'. The metal heads. We definitely weren't cool. but the idea was we weren't trying to be. The music was awesome for me. All that power and aggression, the inner oh-so-trite teenage rage I was unable to express came through in the music and it was something I felt I could relate to. Oh the inner turmoil of being a moderately intelligent successful middle child of a happily married (at the time) couple who were fairly well off. Can nobody understand my pain?

I'm actually embarrassed now to think I thought my angst was raw and painful and could only be soothed by crunching riffs and anguished vocals.

I never got the hair thing though. It will come as a surprise to no-one, now I'm a slap head, that my hair was totally unmanageable. I tried to grow it into a proud lions mane, just like I'd seen on the back of all these albums. Graceful locks of blond and black, silky tresses falling almost to the waists of these metal behemoths. However it just ended up growing out and up not down giving me a bizzare top heavy white afro. Quite frankly I looked like one of the toadstool heads from the Mario games. Not a pretty sight. However I was still accepted as part of the clique and we used to just hang out, listen to music (Slayer, Queensryche, Pantera, Faith no More and the mighty mighty Metallica) and do some role playing. (Oh yeah, I was a chick magnet. I used to have to beat them off with a stick.)

Metal is something I grew up with and to be honest, grew out of. By the time sixth form hit (I would be about 16) Rave was dying and it was all about Indie bands (Shed Seven, Ocean Colour Scene, Early Oasis, Menswear). I had begun to suspect that metal was a little bit silly even before corpse paint came in. So I cut my stupid mop of hair and discovered girls, clubbing and music that wasn't played at breakneck speed .

Now there's very little modern metal I listen to but Metallica were always there and I've continued to buy their more 'experimental' albums until "Death Magnetic" dropped through the door this morning. And it took me right back to my teenage years because it sounds like "...and justice for all Part 2" Its got the speed of St anger without the retarded lyrics and $5 drumkit. Its a piece of metal genius and I solidly recommend it for anyone who may have let Lars James et al fall out of favour in recent years.

Now I'm older, lets face it we all are, I'm much more comfortable being myself and not having to buy in to an entire lifestyle just to fit in. I can occasionally listen to metal, but it doesn't preclude me from listening to other stuff. and I won't be growing my hair again anytime soon. Not until they develop a cure for male pattern baldness at any rate!

sunday afternoons suck

So, while I'm trying to work through some narrative problems I've got I thought I'd better get the old fingers a-tapping with an update. Thats right, Not dead yet. Just fueled up on pent up rage and a really bad bottle of grappa someone once bought me as a joke. 

"Duke, " He said " This'll stop your drinking problem."

"Nat, this time you have actually lost what little mind you had?" I replied to the grinning fool " How's buying a man a bottle of booze going to help his drinking problem?"

"Well," Says he, taking a slug off of his bottle of Miller highlife" When you've drunk the cupboard almost dry at home on a tuesday night sitting alone in your darkened apartment, wearing just your pants.. When that happens and you look into what's been left till last, when you see this here cheap bottle of awful, awful booze, you'll see this and think 'Well thats me on the wagon because there's no Goddamn way I'm drinking that shit!"

Funny. I've had that bottle for about 5 years now.  I bring it out at parties to show to people and say 'When you see this bottles open its time to run for the hills.' It took Palin's nomination before I finally cranked it open and forced half the bottle down my protesting neck. When the world gone to complete shit in front of your eyes and you've already let it, that's the time to try anything to blot out what's left of the world.

Palin is dangerous. Palin is a publicity stunt. Palin is a clever move by a party with their backs up against the wall and they can hear the oncoming freight train that is the Obama campaign. 

Palin is their shot at gaining the McCain campaign some seriously needed publicity, she works for the party on so many levels.

1) being a woman they feel women can relate to her.

2) being a Hot woman they can appeal to the redneck bastards who've never looked a pretty woman in the eyes. 

Its turned the Presidential dog and pony show into a fashion parade. Guys have it easy when it comes to sartorial elegance. The most difficult question we have to ask ourselves is 'What colour tie do I need to wear today?'. In the coming months countless rainforests worth of paper are going to be wasted on her choice of shoes for Christs' sake. 

Her policies worry me as well. Lets not even talk about her poor daughter. Its a family issue and should have no bearing on anything. Have you tried to talk to teenagers recently? Its like they've just got off the boat from mars. Lets just be grateful the baby isn't already hooked on crack. 

They could have brought out a faceless no-body. A old man candidate, a grey suit who only the people in the know knew and we wouldn't have given a shit. Palin has injected vibrancy into a campaign that was bleeding momentum like jam out of a doughnut (I think the munchies have kicked in )

I'm not trying to say a woman shouldn't be VP or even President but seriously? Thats the best woman the republican party can find?  What kind of skeletons must the other serious female contenders have in their closets? 

Oh and if they win wait for Palin to go from MILF to WTF in about 6 nanoseconds. Look at photos of Blair just before he got in to just after he got in. He was a comparable age to Palin at the time. Something about politics at the highest level just sucks the vitality and fight out of you. Maybe its because you realise that when you're in charge you're not really in charge at all. There are a thousand people that put you in office and each one of them wants a piece of you. And when the shylocks have had their share of your soul there's not much left to take home at night. 

So thats why I'm here, because how ever fantastical my fiction, however fucked up and doomed I make the human race, we'll just find new real ways of making it worse for ourselves. 

really?

bank holiday weekend

Had an excellent holiday of the bank. Friday night was a trip to Geekland. Population, we nerds. Call of duty 4 and Mass Effect were highlights as was pizza.

sat we headed into snowdonia set up camp and then started to walk in pleasant weather. A moderate rain and wind sprang up and we decided to shelter in the nearest pub and wait for it to pass.

Five hours later and it could be officially classed as a storm. Not that we minded by that point having had a window seat in the pub for all that time.

Saturday night under canvas was an experience. The wind howled and the rain lashed down shaking our flimsy nylon home. The morning brought mud and sausage butties although not the two together!

then em and i stayed at a friends house sunday night for dinner and whisky! Awesome.

friday nights

so, friday night. a large amount of beer a small amount of pizza and a libarel sprinkling of xbox 360 action. Thats what happy friday nights are made of.

typing this on a Eee PC which is tiny and yet works pretty well the keyboard takes a bit of getting used to but it seems to be working quite well. needs a bigger delete button but its really rather good!

saturday I'm campin and sunday we're away so I'll try and update at some point where I haven't got a beer buzz on!

laters

Bobert

One should always try and avoid shouting the F word at work. Its very disconcerting for ones colleagues who consider you a polite young man.

Also, why do the streets of Conwy smell of turds today?

Around my work and home life and there simply isnt time! The great irony is the more you do, the less time there is to write about it!

Work has been a world of new stresses leaving me black and blue mentally at the weekend.

Maybe the reason people seem less creative when they get older is simply the lack of time to be creative? Im having to update the blog

weird

There can be few more uncomfortable sights than two people you vaugly know from work exiting a store cupboard together, looking hot and flushed.

Did you ever find yourself wondering "what would Rob look like as a sixteenth century fop?"

Well wonder no longer! Gaze in awe!

It was Eds Barbecue of course the annual event where we all get together and put on ridiculously elaborate costumes, or ones you knocked up for a couple of quid if you're me. 

Thats my sisters 'posion Ivy' wig and she looked much better in it than I.

Photos on the left there. clickety click

Its one of those days that dawns with promise in the air and the faint glimmer of oppourtunity on the horizon. It feels like, today, anything is possible and for once it probably is.

Im on the beach which is less than a mile from home that i only visit when i know i'll have it to myself. Theres nothing more depressing than seeing the unwashed hordes tarnishing my beach.

Eds annual BBQ today. And its going to be Awesome(as usual)

dodgy days and old friends

Had 2 of the worst days in work friday and today. I know they say its good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while but i've been operating in what would be considered out of the Marqui de Sades comfort zone.

Not anything in particular, just awkward uncomfortable and panic inducing. And the strike shedualed for wed/thurs isnt going to help. Oh well. Ive had 9mnths of a hard but rewarding job i suppose im overdue some crappy days.
In my previous job id have at least one a mnth so i shouldnt really complain.

Had a good weekend catching up with some old school friends that live in chester. Its hard to belive its been over a decade since we all went to school together. We have the same jokes, stories and bonds that we shared all those years ago and its been a privilege to know them.

Got the bits for my costume together just need to spend a couple of hours glueing and sewing.

No, i wont tell you what it is!

Switch Three

In the grey industrial depths of the city, in a drab corner of a forgotten warehouse, something not completely human stirred.


Kein blinked. His soaring high was starting to fade, the ecstasy in his arm mellowing to a throbbing pulse that he knew would soon bring the pain again. He flexed the new hand, still marvelling at the chrome skin. He could feel the power the surgical procedure had given him flowing through the limb into the rest of his body. As he admired his glistening prize, he caught his reflection in the silvery palm, bringing him up short.

A tangle of matted wires hung out of the crown of his head, each one leading to a gently sparking end. One eye burned like a white hot inferno whilst the other stared back, blackened and dead. The skin was a patchwork of bright metal, dull plastic and greying flesh. His nose had been replaced with a metallic pressure valve and every tungsten tooth in his mouth had a tan ceramic neighbour. His augmented jaw could bite clean through metal but his stomach could not yet process it. Maybe that would be the next purification he should undergo. He smiled and sparked his teeth together producing a grinding sound. In Kein's head it played like a melody, a siren song of change and escape.

The hand had been surgically attached three days ago but the transplant buzz was already beginning to wear off. When the Reverend had explained his purpose to him all those months ago, the pleasure had lasted for weeks at a time. Changing small parts, something no-one would notice, a patch of skin on his flank, a toe. The knowledge that he had changed and no-one could see it was heaven to him, keeping him warm and contented for a month or two before he had to change again.

Now it was only a matter of days before he needed the fix and hiding it had become more and more difficult, until he didn't care anymore. He'd proudly display his latest modification, the sharp thrill of secret knowledge changing to the sledgehammer blow of confrontation. Walking down the street now, people would stare at him in disgust or avert their gaze. Some would hurl abuse at this self made monster.

He was too important to care about those people now for he was the Messiah. Hadn't his God told him so?

But change cost money and with each procedure becoming more and more extreme, the cost was rising sharply. Kein was out of cash but he needed the next fix, the next change, and he knew somewhere that always had money...


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I had decided not to mention the neural nets at Carterhouse to anyone. Looking back, I realise it was the one decision that could have prevented the terrible events that were to overshadow the entire population several months later. But when it comes to hindsight we all have perfect vision. I made what I thought was the right call at the time.

I thought the computers linked to the mind of every man who'd been at that school posed no threat, provided none of the people wearing the nets saw that one single page in one of the most obscure books ever published. In order not to destroy the reputation of some of the most important people in society I kept quiet.

I can be really, really stupid sometimes.

But that was yet to come. I'd left my wife early this morning sleeping the sleep of an untroubled conscience, a luxury some of us will never know again. I walked the old familiar streets for a few hours feeling the city warming and waking to the caress of the new sun. I met Remy, in a pleasant cafe I knew in the deep recesses of Stepney.

The cafe owner owed me a favour or two from my time tabbing the beat, back when people still got attacked for the colour of their skin. Jules Montague hadn't been in the country long enough to know that a gang of white pond scum rarely want to know the time when they ask for it. The glitter of his gold watch when he reflexively moved his sleeve was all the motivation they needed to attack.

I was walking my beat solo and happened across the four of them standing over the prone Jules. Three of them were using his head like a football the other was going through the suitcase he'd carried all the way from the airport. They turned their attention from the stricken man to the lone copper and grinning, came for me. There are two ways to deal with this.

The law says "Talk to them, talk at them, try to reason with them, calm the situation down.".

The gut says "Fuck 'em. They need to be taught they can't get away with this.".

Four on one were bad odds. They never had a chance.

The first pulled out a small knife that glinted in his hand. A definite mistake. My expanding baton took it out of his grip on the downstroke and snapped his head back on the return. As he collapsed his mate flew at me, leg extended, to try and kick me to the ground. A quick sidestep and a dropped shoulder into his exposed groin had him clutching at his valuables on the ground, crying incoherently.

The other two approached more cautiously, fanning out so I had to step carefully over their fallen comrades. I waited for either one of them to make a move. The shorter one gave in first and threw a punch, I dodged, grabbed his hand and used his own weight to force him to the floor, feeling the bones in his wrist snap and break beneath my gloves.

The fourth turned to run just as Jules flung out an arm and sent him sprawling to the pavement.

I'd put two of them in hospital and the other two in the station and Jules had never forgotten.

He opened a cafe just around he corner from where he'd been 'welcomed' into the neighbourhood, and it was my routine to stop in when I was having a slow morning.

Jules strolled to our table, his dark weather-beaten face broken only by a giant beaming smile.

"There ya go Jim," he said, dropping off a bagel for me and a full breakfast for Remy. "On the house."

I matched his smile with my own. This was a little dance we did for the sake of propriety.

"Can't accept it Jules, that's bribery."

"Bribery? Pah! Can't have you two fighting the forces of darkness on empty stomachs, it wouldn't be right."

He beamed again and swung back to behind the counter, both of us knowing full well I'd leave exact change plus tip on the side plate on my way out.

I was feeling quite at peace with the world and Remy was sitting opposite me waving a fork full of greasy pig products and pontificating on one of his favourite subjects, history.

" ...and that was the point at which they said 'No more' and confined us to Earth until we learn to grow up. Now we have to notify them of every satellite we launch otherwise it just gets vaporised as soon as it hits the ionosphere."

I had heard this story many time before.

Not very long ago man had commanded the solar system, sending ships and men out to Mars and Jupiter. One of our deep range probes had attracted the attention of a race we knew as the Isturi. These beings of pure energy had come to our small cluster of planets and found a semi-evolved race still fighting petty wars, harbouring animalistic instincts and generally behaving like spoilt children.

They were several eons ahead of our technology and light years ahead of us evolutionarily, having moved beyond the need for actual physical form. They appeared as objects of incandescent light too powerful to actually look at.

The Isturis' horror at our bestial savagery soon turned into stewardship. They informed humanity that we would not be allowed to leave the planet until we were worthy of the honour. Once we satisfy them that we will cause no further harm to ourselves or others, we'll be let loose upon the galaxy. They refer to this state of being as Enlightenment. It's hard to argue with beings that can destroy entire cities with a single thought. It was just lucky that they're a peaceful race and didn't decide we were entirely beyond redemption.

Remy was halfway through his second sausage and his theory on why we'd never achieve the Isturi's arbitrary criteria for becoming enlightened when my phone rang.

"Prophet."

"Jim, Its Alan."

My direct supervisor and conduit to the boss.

"Hi Alan, what's up?"

"Drop whatever you're doing and get over to the hospital. We've got another one of your cases, I'll meet you there. Don't take all day, the situation's getting worse."

The phone went dead.

By 'your cases', Alan meant the unusual, strange or just plain bizarre workload I often found myself saddled with. I seemed to be getting a reputation for handling the things no-one else wanted to touch with a barge pole. The more strange stuff I dealt with, the more came my way. It was a feedback loop of oddness that also meant I was really allowed a lot of leeway to handle the heap of crap my own way. The brass generally didn't want to know too much about the freaky problems themselves or how I'd solved them.

"Time to go," I said, slurping what was left of my strong tea.

Remy crammed as much food as he could into his mouth, I dropped twenty bucks on the table and the two of us piled into the car and headed out onto the crowded streets. Jules shot us a wave knowing we would have good reason for leaving abruptly.

London had changed a lot over the years. The occupation and eventual blossoming of England into the 53rd state of America had introduced many changes. Some were good, some were bad but the traffic around London's gnarled streets and alleys would never change. I had heard rumours that initially after the occupation there was a plan to stamp the grid system onto the city in the same way you'd brand a cattle, but the plan never came to fruition. My theory was somebody up high worked out that if you took away the residents main source of complaint they'd soon find something else to bitch about.

As we flashed through USS Constitution Square with the sirens wailing, I was able to cut through most of the traffic. When you had the blues and twos going most drivers would find at least a little extra room to get out of the way. I'd pounded these pavements for so long I knew more about these streets than the cabbies did. Even though the gridlock was pretty bad we eventually wound our way through the stationary traffic and into the London Free Hospital to be met by a heaving mob of people.

Utilizing my police drivers training and a couple of decades of experience, I abandoned the car half on the kerb and we started to push our way through the protesters. I tried to make sense of what they were chanting but it was only once I'd made it through the baying crowd I could see their banners read "Human Rights!" and "Cast out the machine!".

"Just our luck to get caught up in a Ludd demonstration," muttered Remy in my ear.

The Ludds were the latest incarnation of the anti-machine lobby that were convinced we could all go back to subsistence farming and knitting our own yoghurt. Morons. Why they were protesting in front of a hospital I had no idea. Maybe they thought a nice herbal poultice and a round of meditation could cure cancer and all these machines were keeping good honest witch doctors out of work. In their view humanity was being sidelined by technology and the Ludd called for humanity not to be eclipsed by its own creations.

We reached the ring of uniformed officers keeping the baying crowd from destroying the front entrance. Remy grabbed the nearest one, showed his badge and said, "What's all this about?!"

In spite of the pressure of the crowd the uniform grinned. It wasn't often that he knew more than ranking officers. "The DI will fill you in," he shouted over the noise, "He's in the casualty ward."

Alan, or DI Roberts as his ID badge said, was waiting for us at the entrance to the bays. A tall man with a freshly ironed air about him, he was standing in front of one of the privacy curtains for the beds. There was an awful smell emanating from somewhere, even more so than usual for hospitals. A filthy metallic smell.

"Jim, I see you met your welcoming committee out front."

"Alan, what the hell is going on?"

Without further ado DI Roberts whipped the curtain away to reveal a dark mess of machine and body parts. It was as if a car had crashed through a slaughterhouse and was merged by some horrid force into a welded mass of meat and metal. It was only when the head turned towards us that I realised it was or had been human. Fighting back my revulsion I stepped forward.

"My name's Jim Prophet, son," I said, mainly to disguise the noise of Remy being violently sick behind me. "Who did this to you?"

Eyes with no human feeling in them fixed mine while his lips pulled back in what I took to be a smile of pleasure or a rictus of pain displaying rows of uneven metal and ceramic teeth.

"I did this to myself."




I'd heard some stories in my time, but Keins was probably the oddest.

He'd been born normally like you or I but always felt there was something wrong, something clearly alien about himself.

He was told that the alienation he was feeling was all part of growing up, but he knew differently. He couldn't relate to people, to their experiences and he knew that they considered him strange. Drugs hadn't helped. They'd made him much much worse. All that paranoia had boiled over into violence and he'd received a court order to clean up or go to jail.

As part of his rehab Kein started going to a church and ended up a regular at a chapel on Yelena Street called "The Temple of the Transformed Man." The priest there had shown him the simple truth he had been missing for all those years. Improving a small part of oneself every day brought one got closer to God.

To my mind Kein had misunderstood the part about improving yourself. He'd taken it literally and started replacing perfectly decent parts of his body with machine counterparts in an effort to be more holy.

Desperate for cash to pay for another alteration he'd been caught trying to rob a convenience store. Kein had been shot twice before he'd thrown the owner through a solid wall. His augmented strength and the reinforced concrete meant the human basic owner didn't really have a chance.

Tears of pure black ran over Keins mottled cheeks, wiped away by a hand of silver metal, "I didn't want to kill anyone! I just needed the money to change! I just tried to get him out of the way."

The mob outside knew that the shopkeeper had been killed by something other than human and were using it as a platform to incite violence. We always fear that which we don't understand. We put any name to it that we want, racism, fascism, sexism, it all boils down to loathing that which we can't comprehend.

I left the cubicle feeling sick to my stomach but not at the appearance of the being that had used to be a man. A very wise man once said "Religious conviction is the only thing that that can make good men perform evil deeds." Kein clearly had some psychological flaw where he saw everything in need of improvement and change.

Remy, also looking a little green around the gills, was standing in the corner waiting for me. I gave him the short version and we headed out to Yelena Street to see the priest who had started this whole business.

On the way out I grabbed the nearest doctor who was still trying to avoid looking at the half man, half machine, cluttering up his neat clean emergency room.

"Make sure he sees a psychiatrist."

The young man smirked.

"Actually, I was thinking of calling a mechanic."

I'd spent a fair amount of time around doctors and their trademark black humour which they called a 'coping mechanism'. I called it puerile schoolboy wit masked as something deeper.

"Funny. He's suffering from Surgical Addiction and Body Dysmorphic Syndrome."

He shot me a look that spoke a thousand medical volumes.

"Look them up." I said turning on my heel and striding towards the exit.

Remy had the decency of waiting until we were past the entrance and the riled up mob, before asking me what I was on about.

"He's suffering from a mental disease where he sees the flesh as flawed and wants to replace every part of it to make himself more holy."

"More holy?"

"Yep," I replied, "We're going to church."







The frontage of the temple was nondescript and dully painted, only a notice board proclaiming it the 'Temple of the Transformed Man' let you know it wasn't an office building. As we walked into the entrance of the church the small windows let in angled shafts of light that barely penetrated the darkness. There was a heavy smell in the air like burning oil and incense. A background hum droned from every corner which sounded like static, and I realised it was a thousand recorded voices chanting a litany of praises, a mechanised Tibetan prayer wheel eternally cycling. Remy looked around.

"Hello?" he shouted, his voice carrying strangely in the unformed darkness.

The hall lights flashed on, dazzling us, as a clear sharp voice rang out.

"Welcome, stranger! You have come seeking the truth."

The church was deeper than it looked from outside. Dark red carpets led to the pews and then onto an altar of a burnished metal shining in the artificially bright light. A hologram of an android, carefully featureless, shimmered into life in front of us.

"In a manner of speaking," I began,"My name's DI Prophet and this is DI Bouchalant. We're looking for whomever's in charge here."

The lights dimmed slightly, a door to the left of the altar sprang open and the voice called out, "Please step through into my chambers."

We walked into a small spartan space containing nothing but a table and chairs, where a hooded figure was sitting at the table with his face hidden from view. The same metallic voice, now much quieter, asked us to sit.

"My name is Father Xerces. You'll have to excuse my robe gentlemen, but I'm afraid my appearance can be too much for some people."

A single red dot shone out from under the hood but that was all that was visible beneath the dark lip of his robe.

"We're police officers sir. We're used to that kind of thing."

"That's kind, but I'll remain in the shadows if I may. I was in an industrial accident that destroyed the left side of my body and most of my face. I couldn't afford the bills for vat grown replacements so they bolted metal and untarnishable alloys to my skin and bones. In doing so they healed my body and cleansed my soul. I became complete for the first time in my life. In short, I saw God. And this church is my way of worship. Drawing new sheep into the fold."

"So are you the transformed man that this temple is built to?"

He chuckled. A deeply unsettling metallic sound.

"No. I'm not that egotistical. I'm merely trying to show people that transformation can have a wonderful affect on a person. Changing things about yourself that are faulty or bad can lead to enlightenment."

"Enlightenment through mutilation?"

"It's not strictly the physical I am referring to. If you have a bad defect in your psyche wouldn't you try to change it? But yes I believe that the flesh can be tempted. I believe the flesh is weak. Modifying parts of yourself that cause you to sin can only be a good thing if it leads to no further sin."

I'd thought Kein had misunderstood the preaching of this maniac. It turned out he'd been absolutely correct. Xerces wasn't interested in changing attitudes or moral practices, he was talking about gross physical changes, like the one he had been through. It was a total shock, that made me incredulous.

"Do you know a Mr Kein?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Mr Kein, he attends your church here. He's charged with murder."

"Murder? We are peaceful people officer, we just believe in improving ourselves beyond the transience of the flesh. If Mr Kein has committed a crime I am very sorry for it but it has nothing to do with myself or my church."

"He was robbing a store to raise money for another mutilation...".

He interrupted, "It's not a mutilation if it's a sacrament! 'If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away! It is better to lose one of your members than to have your whole body thrown into hell.' Matthew 5:29."

I didn't feel like telling him that more people had died because of that book than he could ever hope to save.

"Whilst your rights to believe whatever you want are constitutionally protected, when your particular religious viewpoint harms innocents."

"A murder is always a tragedy. I'm not forcing anyone to do anything. I'm afraid Kein may have an unbalanced mind..."

"May?"

"...but the implication that his unfortunate crime had anything to do with the church or myself is totally incorrect. We are merely practising our peaceful religion as is our right enshrined in law. The law you gentlemen are sworn to uphold. There's no incitement to violence against non-believers in our creed."

He stood up with a heavy creaking sound. I could see his bare right leg was normal human flesh wearing only a sandal but his left was a tangle of wires and a copperish metal.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave now."

The red probing light in his hood had increased in intensity, glaring as if angry although his artificial voice remained measured and calm.

"If we have any further questions Father..."

"Then I will be right here. I have nothing to hide."

"Except your face," I thought, uncharitably.


The lamps had been turned off in the main body of the church. We, as the unenlightened and lacking augmented vision, clearly did not see the light. We staggered out of the oily darkness into the blessed air of the city proper.

I turned to Remy.

"We'll have to come back to see if his peaceful rhetoric changes for a more receptive audience."

He lit one of those foul French cigarettes he was unable to shake and nodded at me.

Remy and I would stand out a mile at one of these meetings but luckily I knew someone who was perfect for fitting in with a machine-loving crowd, or Modders as the Ludds would call them.




"No. No. No. No. No. Not as a favour, not as an assignment, not even as an order, Jim. I simply won't do it."

Delyth was initially reluctant to go undercover to the service. After I explained to her the nature of the query she soon warmed up to the idea. She was intrigued how humans could take technology and turn it into a religion with its own rituals, services and offerings.

That night we returned to the temple, Delyth and I walked into together. She had a halo of tarnished metal floating above her head on repulsors and an artfully decorated dragon tattoo stretched across her bare shoulders and over the left side of her face. I had my own fake facial markings, that of a new Zealand tribe from many centuries before. She assured me that if Father Xerces got another look at me, I'd be unrecognisable from the scruffy detective he met this morning. Black bars and talons covered my cheeks and a large stylised eagle seemed to have settled across my forehead.

Delyth had stencilled the designs on herself using an ink that she assured me would wash off with alcohol. When she'd finished my design she stepped back to take a long look.

"You look..."

"Great? Amazing?" I finished, only half joking.

"Different. In a good way." She smiled and our eyes met and glanced away.

Her wardrobe provided the long leather coats that enveloped the rest of our bodies and completed the look. Who knows what kind of modifications they may be hiding?

We went in alone. Remy was waiting on his own around the corner in a borrowed taxi in case we needed to beat a hasty retreat but I didn't want a van full of officers waiting. Number one this wasn't a bust, we simply didn't have enough for a warrant. This was an information gathering exercise. And number two, if one of these worshippers had a short-wave radio implanted in his skull, he might have picked up chatter from the van itself and tipped our hand.

Hundreds of 'Modders' filed into the church which was lit bright against the dark night, giving it a respectability and impressiveness that it lacked in daylight. The congregation was full of weirdoes but plenty of normal folks were chatting away to the people with bits of metal sticking out of their necks. In our own weird way, we blended right in. The lights dimmed as we took our pew and the service itself began.

I'm not religious but I have attended my share of services. For some their faith lends them a sense of place, poise and purpose. It's a constant source of strength and they seem the taller and the prouder for it. In contrast though a lot of people seemed to attend that particular brand of Christianity where you leave your thinking, self-determination and dignity at the door. Unless they're crying, wailing, and beating their breast they don't feel they're being sufficiently sincere enough.

This service was definitely the latter of the two.

I don't think many traditional Catholic priests are greeted with rapturous applause, but Xerces was as he strode across the stage, robe still very much in place. He stopped at the lectern and threw back his hood in a dramatic gesture. The applause rose into a near orgasmic frenzy of cheering.

His face and body were covered in the burnished copper. Where the flesh was still visible it was partially hidden behind the multicoloured wires powering the machine part of him. A metal mask unevenly split his face in two and where the right side was fair skinned and blond haired the left gazed out of a deep red lens, pulling focus on the crowd. His entire mouth was covered by the mask and from the grill holes at the front he began to preach.

"My brothers and sisters, I stand here before you transformed from the wretched sinner I once was! I have changed in spirit as I have changed in body. I could have cursed God for destroyed my weak flesh, but I praised him for fortifying me with metal and fire! The body is not a temple! It's a monument to imperfection!"

He was alive, he was igniting the passions and the feelings of the freaks and the weirdoes, the underclass. They responded with whoops and yells. Arms, human and otherwise were raised aloft.

However inflammatory it was, it wasn't illegal. It wasn't incitement. We couldn't arrest him for talking passionately about his religion.

The basic tenet was as he had explained to Remy and myself, the flesh is weak and corruptible in a way metal could never be. The major errors of the world could be attributed to human weakness not the failure of our machines.

Just then there was a shattering of glass and a rock sailed through the air, landing in the crowd. Remy shouted in the earpiece I'd forgotten I was wearing, "Jim! The Ludds are here!"

Before I could react the wooden doors crashed open as the main body of the Ludds came piling through. They met the first line of Modders and started laying about them with stakes and clubs. They were a ravening horde buoyed up by their righteous anger. These weren't the placard waving protestors hoping to cause a change. These were the arm and the boot of people who felt so threatened they had to lay about the source of the threat with fist and club.

I should have announced I was a police officer. I should have tried to calm the situation down. But they wouldn't have taken me seriously. They would have wrapped a club around my tattooed face.

I moved into the aisle and intercepted the Ludd leading the charge. He ignored my outstretched arm, his face a mask of unleashed fury and I knew he would pound me into the ground given the chance, my facial tattoos marking me as 'alien', as 'that which is to be destroyed'. I ducked under his initial blow and swung back into his solar plexus knocking him cold.

A white light exploded on the left side of my face and I fell heavily. As I rose again I saw Delyth had taken the club that had hit me and was striking back with white-hot anger.

After that it got really bad.

I can remember punching a Ludd and him collapsing into the knave, whacking his head on the wooden pew. I remember feeling a bond of companionship with the modders fighting along side me, a wave of feeling that makes me sick now to think of it. I lost the thing that makes policemen good: control. I was working more on animal instinct than human thought and right beside me, trading blows and punches, was Delyth. Her position as a tech obviously hadn't completely erased her training, as she drop-kicked another Ludd out of contention and into unconsciousness.

In the middle of the chaos Xerces was laying about him with a stave, his red eye gleaming as he spouted exhortations and encouragements to his flock in a most unpriestly like manner. Its the first time I've seen the clergy urging on violence but for him the Ludds represented all the hate and intolerance of their kind. He was paying it back in spades.

A shout went up and Xerces turned just as a thrown half-brick came arching through the air and caught him clean on the metal side of his face.

There was a resounding bang as the metallic mask flew off, exposing what should have been the hideous scarring and augmental electronics it was meant to hide. Except, there were no scars. There were no electronics. The mask hid nothing except perfect skin and another pale blue eye to match its twin.

Xerces had no damage at all. He was a first stage human, as he had been the day he was born.

He spluttered as the room fell silent all gazing at their leader, the man who told them all the wonders of changing. Of altering their bodies to be closer to his. Closer to the divine.

"It's a miracle!" Xerces shouted in his now very human, very nervous voice "I've been cured...." He hadn't even finished the sentence before the first Modder fist impacted on him. In an instant all the freaks and weirdoes turned on him. The ones he'd encouraged. The ones he'd lied to. They thought he'd been leading by example, but they been duped and they were in the mood for revenge.

I used the confusion to make a move to the back door, dragging Delyth behind me. Amid the crowd Xerces gave an all too human scream that was suddenly ended.

We made it past the swarming Ludds to the car, Remy was already gunning the engine and we squealed away from the scene. I looked behind us and saw the church erupt in flames, lighting the night in every direction. Whether it was set by the Ludds or the betrayed Modders I'll never know.

Remy was so shaken he started talking in his native tongue.

"Vous les branleurs qu'anglais sont fous, je jamais devriez avoir la maison gauche!"

"What?" said Delyth, still shaking from the adrenaline.

"He said we're all crazy and he should have stayed at home." I translated absent-mindedly, lost in my own thoughts.

"I'm inclined to agree with him."

We were silent as Remy drove us homeward, knowing we couldn't tell anyone what had happened in there. It had been an unauthorized operation and as it had all gone south it could become very awkward to explain. Especially as I still had Luddite blood on my knuckles.

Remy dropped us off at Delyths apartment and sped away into the night without a further word.

I walked Delyth up to her place, I wasn't sure quite why.

She unlocked her front door and turned to me.

"You don't have to go home you know," she said, her face betraying the tangled emotions beneath the surface.

"Jennifer will be waiting for me," I said simply, the neutral nature of the statement speaking more than words ever could.

"We could have died in there tonight," she said looking straight at me, seeing right through me, "I would never want to end my life thinking 'What if?'."

Before I could respond she turned and walked through her door, leaving it ajar. An invitation, a welcome, a temptation.

I followed her into to her apartment on autopilot, not really knowing what was going to happen next.


I can be really, really stupid sometimes.

Switch Three

weekend of luxury

At Jane and Wezs for a long weekend. Woke early, talked for ages, drank coffee and watched family guy, justice league and Sunshine before going over to Joan and paulas for chicken deliciousness and the turkey burgers of the gods!! All thats left is beer and boardgames!

Somedays its good to be alive!

Friday nights.

Had quite a busy week in work. They did an aptitude test for all aplicants for the supervisors position and unlike previous companys I've worked for it was actually based on the stuff that you should know and use in your day to day payroll stuff. 

I had one once where they expected you to know, with no recourse to books, about the intricacies of national insurance details for share cropping fishermen. Hmmm. 

Anyways they were impressed with how much I'd picked up since I'd only been there a few months but someone else got the job. And rightly so I should add, I wasn't expecting it and I'm probably not quite ready for it yet. Give it a year or so and we'll see where we are. 

Anyways, I'd had my eye on a foldable keyboard to use with my phone, I'd saved up the £20 it cost to find it had nearly doubled in prce in 4 weeks.

"Screw that" I thought, what else can I do with the cash. In the end I decided to take Em out for a few pints and we had such a great night together. We disscussed everything from politics, through gender preference out into string theory. It was wonderful. 

It reminded me of my first speech as a married man where I expounded on our first date being all about the brains. And it reminded me (as if I needed reminding) why I committed myself to this woman for the rest of my time on this earth.

Bit soppy I know but thats how I feel.

That and slightly hungover but that should come as a surprise to no man. 

Camping today, just hope the weather holds!

pubs

Social meeting houses, places for cheap food, live music venues or just a room to get wankered in, I like pubs.

Jason and trinas wedding.

From now on unless you're celebrating your wedding at one in the morning, high kicking to new york new york with the back three of the USA under-twenties rugby side spurred on by the massed ranks of the tongans and fijians, you're not trying hard enough!

blogger is being an arse!

Its logged me out and is only accepting updates from my mobile. Might take a few days to sort! Arse!

2nd biannual pub crawl.

Ouchie. Head hurts. Did our usual pub crawl around the town i grew up in. I've spent time on both sides of most of the bars so i knew/know them well. Started at the Bryn Dinas which is a real drinkers pub. I wouldnt be surprised to go in there and find sawdust on the floor. Then on to the red lion. There was kareoke. Less said the better. Next stop the kentigern where they serve a delicous pint of Bass. In fact it was so good we stayed for a number of pints in spite of the John Wayne theme and psycotic bar staff. Finished in the plough or, as Dante referred to it 'the ninth circle of hell'. Crowded and sweaty, the beer tasted of urine and was about the same tempreture. In the style of tabloid jurnos evereywhere we made our excuses and left.

A throughly enjoyable night all around!

hmmm.

Well the rugby was enjoyable, we did lose but i think we rattled them once or twice. We gave away a stupid amount of penalties and you cant do that against the best team in the world. So a few pints to the good we headed to another pub to play killer-pool the landlady put credits on the jukebox for us got into a random pub conversation with strangers about why i dont bet. Those strangers then followed us from pub to pub which was okay as they were quite friendly. Then a chinese at andyz accompanied by Team America : World Police. Awesome.

The weekend of rugby

Aaah. Thats how every friday should be! Finished work at 12.30, and stepped out into the blazing sunshine bound for Wrexham and the under 21s world cup. Saw South Africa mulluer America 108-18 but the cheer usa got when they scored their was huge! Then the Samoans over powered Scotland and meeting a few of them after the game Im not surprised! Theyre big big lads and still under 20!!
Anyway, recovering on the couch with coffee and bad TV before meeting the rest of the Scoobies for the senior Wales v South Africa game. Sadly, and this was a blow, its on Sky so we HAVE to watch it in the pub. Darn.

:-)

writing

Coming to the polishing stage of final revisions for a piece always gets my brain going for the next challenge. I usually have some idea(s) of what comes next and this stage is like a jigsaw, trying to find how each bit fits together, if at all. Its one of my favourite things when the possibiltys are endless and bounded solely by your imagination.

(Less of the pretentious wank soon, I promise!)

Pop will eat Itself.

A fine band. A very politically active band, but this clip is brilliantly surreal. The late late show, was the Irish equivalent of Wogan, so to have him segue from being lovely and chatty with his respectable guests, cut to the audience of Blue rinses clapping politely, And then huge chunking riffs sent from before the dawn of time shatter their eardrums as Clint et al sing their anti-fascist song.

Genius!

(The action starts at about 1:10)

American Central

My old mate Warren's just made his first post from the heart of America on Notfussed .

The American election intrigues me in ways it probably shouldn't.

Anyway take a look.

Weekend!

Had a superb weekend DAAAAWNNNNN SAWWWWWFFFFF. Drove down on the Saturday morning after beating my own record time for packing (13.5 minutes for a weekend trip). Met up with part of the family for a pre Sunday party shindig, a family warm-up if you will. Wez and my sister (The legends) arrived along with My brother and Amanda (The American heart of our little family) Wheeling in the cutest thing that ever drew breath.

It's true. I'm pleased to announce that we can call off the search for the cutest baby of all time. You might think you're in contention with your awards, medals and or Nappy/Diaper advert babies, but this is a kid whose sheer physical presence bends space-time around him until you are helpless in his thrall of gorgeousness.

Full credit to Phil and Amanda not only have they brought up a serious cutesy-pie, he's also probably the best behaved baby I've ever met! (Actually at 10months old is he officially a toddler now? I'm so unsure of my infant chronology.) He was surrounded by gurgling adults and it didn't even phase him at all. He was playing laughing just cruising along quite happily as if he renders a room of hardened adults to Jelly every day, which I suppose he must do

It is so ALL about Jack.

So after a superb meal of curry and two puds (Well it would be rude not to,) at Chris and Judy's we headed to the hotel at about 10PM to find a Salsa club in full swing.

Banish from your thoughts men with goatees hanging around bowls of serious tomato-based dip, debating the merits of scotch bonnet over jalapeño peppers. This was the dancing club at the end of the midlife crisis rainbow. About forty or fifty overweight, over-forty's throwing themselves around the room with the grace and abandon of a tap-dancing Walrus. We secured a table in the bar as far away from the clattering Hippopotami as possible and re-mortgaged the house to pay for a round of drinks. (£3.50 a pint? Is this how they're cracking down on binge drinking? Making it impossible to have more than two pints without having a second income?)

However after a few more rounds of overpriced bitter we were feeling a bit more well disposed to the dancers, especially when they shared their buffet with us. I say shared, I mean "Rob and Wez went on a ninja buffet run and snarfed butties and some crisps for the group."

Sleep came easy that night, then up for a Herculean breakfast and off to the village hall where we celebrated my Great Aunt Rita's 80th birthday. It was lovely to see branches of the family I don't get to see very often including various Cousins and uncles and my Godmother.

My Gran had three kids, my mum and two uncles, and when we were growing up all the kids of the three siblings used to hang out quite a bit, It was very rare for us not to spend a week or so in a year together. Now we're all grown up (physically if not mentally in my case) we don't get to do it that often. So it was great to catch up with everyone and meet George, my Cousin once removed I think. He's the son of my cousin so whatever that makes him. George is also gorgeous, possibly the second cutest baby in the world, He's certainly the UK title holder.(Two cute babies, one extended family? I have a feeling the next baby will have to be a munter, just to even out the averages.)

So with the festivities over it was back the hotel and the incredibly pricey bar and a few rounds of three card brag before heading back up the country to Wales.

A superb weekend all told and one I'm going to remember for a very long time!

beached

Spent yesterday on a beach with old mates celebrating the life of one taken too soon. Many cans of beer were hoisted in his honour which, frankly he would have enjoyed. Adios Keith.

Keith Hannon RIP

Believe it or not its now been two years since we lost Keith. The plan is as ever to go the beach and down a few drinks in his honour. I no longer work at the same place but I have actually stayed friends with a lot of the people I used to work with there. Its a very rare thing especially for me, we'll see how long it lasts I suppose. I play football with the lads every tuesday so that helps to keep some continuity there.

One of the joys of Flexi-working is I was abel to take yesterday afternoon off and do all the little jobs that had been driving me mad. we're away this weekend and I just wanted to get everything done ahead of schedule so I wasn't worrying about it whilst we're away DAAWN SOUFFF!

Its my Great Aunt Ritas birthday on sat and we're all heading down to the south of England to get the whole family together, We were fed up of only seeing people for funerals so we organized a big nosh up for a birthday party instead. 67 of my close family will be there which is a good turn out. Also my first opportunity to meet my American Nephew Jack! I'm so proud and happy for my brother and Amanda, They're so good together that I just know they're going to raise him right . Of Course I reserve the right to spoil him rotten on his trips over here!!

Got The first draft of Switch three back from The editors. More red ink on the page than black but he said he enjoyed it, I'm just needing to polish it up before its ready for mass consumption.

Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull is highly enjoyable. Its very much switch off the brain and go along for the ride. Some plot points don't make sense, some characters are ill-used and badly drawn, and some of the CGI is a bit overly done. HOWEVER its enormous amounts of fun, Indy has some great lines, the humour is well used and not too OTT and, in the words of the great Warren Ellis, It obeys and enjoys the genre. Its a big summer popcorn action movie, the kind they didn't make anymore.

So as Lincoln said "The kind of person who enjoys this sort of thing will find this the sort of thing they enjoy.". (No speechwriters in the early eighteen hundreds.)

Right I'm off to get drunk and remeber a good friend taken from us too soon.

Peace out houseys.

a break.

Had a bit of a mad one in work this week. I did 19.5 hours work on the first two days in to get this payroll out on time. No one has phoned up telling me it was screwed up so I must have got it mostly right. They've got his empowerment thing going on in work now which is actually good. It means I feel personally responsible for something. If any small part of it goes wrong I know its my fault, sounds bad hunh? But it actually works because it makes you super careful. Its actually quite liberating. Also when things go tits up, as they do, the blame isn't handed around. We calmly look at things that go wrong and reassess how we're putting them together. I work for actual people now rather than the corporate automatons at my previous position. its lovely to be able to be human and to make errors without fear of being slung out on my ear. Its through our mistakes that we learn.

However you do get some people who phone in week after week complaining about their pay when they've screwed it up themselves and refuse to do anything about it. You'd think after the third successive month of them mucking it up they'd take notice of what you're telling them, but no. So anyway that was my week mired in work, Listening to the enemy and elbows new albums.

What have you been up to?

doughnut day!

Sorry about the lack of postage. Updating mainly from my mobile and keypads arent ideal for long messages.

Weekend was ace, met up in betws y coed at 9 on sat after a glourious drive through wooded lanes with the morning mist rolling up the valleys from the sea. We picked up some bits and pieces from betws, set up camp in llyn gwynant and headed to Llanrwst to start for snowdon. It took 3.45 hours up and 2.45 down again but it was worth every step! It was a long hard slog and full credit to the gang it was done with the minimum of bitching and complaints. The summit was pretty crowded but when you saw the view youd know why.

Then back to camp for food and a fine bottle of single malt ive been saving. The pyromaniacs two tents over nearly set their tents, the ground and themselves on fire using half a forest and petrol to get it going. It was pure inbred retard theatre.

Then home to a nice dark room onthe sunday to avoid burning to death in the suns rays! And back to work.

Oh and the reason for the title? I brought donughts in for the office as they have to work on my payroll today!

definitions

A good weekend is one where you forget all about work and come in fresh on the monday. A great weekend is one where you wake up on the monday and cant remeber if you actually have a job.

I had a great weekend.

Ferrous Dude

Go watch IronMan. Its superb. If you're a comicbook geek stay until the end, the rest of you can be excused at the credits.

That is all.

Switch -Small Change

I find a lot of stories come from the distillation of several small items or thoughts coming together and mixing in just the right way

Small Change by Tom Waits is one of my favorite of his early songs. He really paints pictures of the underbelly of american city life and that put me in the mood of someone who would do anything to anyone for money

Add in Paris we went into a small bar for a coffee and a quick sit down and there were people their that looked like they spent all day just sat in the same seat watching the horse racing on these tiny TVs and I got thinking who would stay in the same crappy bar all day? there had to be something else going on.

Combine that with the documentary on Sumo I saw a few weeks before and you have this piece.

Its not ace but I've been clearing through some of the writing I've got on this computer and I found this and another piece Id swear I never written. I'm not going to publish that because its basically switch told from a different perspective but some of the details are totally different and I have to keep the continuity pure at least!

Switch - Small Change

Small Change got rained on by his own 38.

His nickname, like everything else about him, was totally inappropriate. He must have weighed four hundred pounds and was fat in that way sports stars go when they've got nothing to force them into the gym every morning.

He was a Sumo wrestler, won a few minor contests but he had little in the way of discipline, no composure and would let his temper get the better of him. Clever opponents would just taunt him into making a mistake.

Just after the biggest win of his burgeoning career he was found in a compromising position with the Dojo owner's daughter. If he'd been a star wrestler it could have been overlooked. Small Change, however was kicked to the curb with a size sixty waistline and few transferable talents.

Beating people up for money is always a skill set needed by a subsection of society and he had both training and experience in this specialised field.

He worked as muscle for a few small time Loan sharks for a while, learning the game before that small brain, insulated by several hundred pounds of blubber, clicked onto a new concept. He bounced Jimmy the Fish out of business, literally, and took up Jimmy's old patch and markers.

That first week Small-Change was in charge, ten of Jimmy's long-time non-payees ended up in A & E. They were the lucky ones who found a way to get the money. Unlike the two poor saps who took a ride to the cold metal slab downstairs.

That was the first time I had the pleasure of meeting him. Vice have got the sharking side of things but as soon as pulses slow to a dead stop that's when my boys get called in.

From the coroners report it wasn't hard to work out what had happened.

Having all your ribs crushed and your organs turned to pate can happen if you have a horrific Auto accident, or if a pissed off ex-sumo who you owe money to uses your chest as a trampoline.

Of course we couldn't prove anything, nobody wanted to talk and the word on the street was after that first week of carnage, everybody paid on time. No-one wanted to owe him money for too long. That's where his nickname came from, the whispers were he'd kill you even if you only owed him a few pennies.

Still if you were in a jam, needed some dough up front, no questions asked, he was your man. Every day, in the same reinforced seat, in the same bar, drinking the same cheap whiskey and laughing through his broken yellow teeth.

He was still smiling when we arrived on the scene, black eightball eyes showing the death blood of fatal head trauma. He was spread-eagled on the cheap lino of the barroom floor with six bullet holes. Two in the head and the other four in the enormous gut that flopped around his torso like a half deflated beach ball.

There was just something inherently wrong about his mouth of broken dentistry still smiling after death. Like having a Sick Animal Hospital next to a Vietnamese restaurant.

The gun, his gun, was found a block away. Wiped clean of course, and nobody was surprised when the ballistics matched the six slugs they pulled out of him to the pistols six chambers.

No witnesses, no suspects, no clues. Everyone wanted him dead for some reason and there was no pressure on us to pursue it.

All that was left of him after the coroner had removed the carcass was a gaudy Hawaiian shirt the size of a ships mainsail, covered with blood and whisky.


FIN (With thanks to Tom Waits for the title.)

free album

Free nine inch nails album at NIN.com Thanks Trent!

Week-end

Had a great weekend camping, unlike most other bank holiday weekends this one had some serious sunshine so Em and I through the tent in the back of the car and escaped to the hills for a couple of days. More photos available at flickr on the left there.

We walked part of the snowdon path, found a lovely cafe near Beddgelert, went to the Pen t Gerryd hotel where one of the rooms is decked out like a wooden paneled Bothy/shelter.


Sausage sandwiches for breakfast. How can you argue? It was nice to spend time just the two of us but we're going back next weekend mob-handed. Its a different vibe when there are loads of you as opposed to just a couple. Its a peace and a closeness that I don't think I ever experienced before but I was always searching for it. Sorry I know that sentence doesn't make any sense but it how I feel. I was missing Her even when I didn't know she existed.

How unlucky can one man be?

I'm referring to Mr Eric Pleasants referred to as Hitlers bastard
This is the synopsis on Amazon

"A life-long pacifist, Eric Pleasants was forced to kill in order to survive. From a vagabond life alongside infamous Triple Cross agent Eddie Chapman on occupied Jersey, Pleasants was taken by the Nazis to a series of prison camps in France. The years that followed held a whirlwind of unexpected turns: he lived a life on the run in occupied Paris, was captured and recruited into the British Free Corps of the Waffen-SS, found love with a young German woman, witnessed the bombing of Dresden and attempted to hide from Soviet troops along the sewers of Berlin. When the war ended, Pleasants found himself on the Communist side of the Iron Curtain. By now a strong man in a travelling circus, he was arrested by the KGB on charges of espionage and sentenced to 25 years' slave labour in the notorious camps of Arctic Russia.Only with Stalin's death in 1953 was Pleasants finally released from his unique kind of purgatory, after nearly half a lifetime of peripatetic nightmare. Pleasants died in 1998 in Norfolk at the age of 87"

Can you only imagine? Suffering not only Hitler but Stalin as well and surviving to live and work in Norfolk???


I can see it in my mind. The Royal Legion (norfolk Branch) A group of WWII veterans are gathered around a table swapping stories of how hard they had it in the trenches or the POW camps of the east. One man claims that his experiences fighting through Normandy Belgium was as close to hell on earth as man can experience here. There's a derisive snort from the bar. They turn around to see Eric Pleasants standing there watching them with half a pint of bitter in his hand.

He strides over, slams his drink on the table and levels them with a stare forged in the fires of hades.

"Now let ME tell you a story...."

stuffage.

Had a badminton meal last night, bit more sedate than the other club but nice nonetheless. Good to see one guy whos had some health problems but reckons he'll be back playing soon. Considering hes 75 odd i think thats rather good! Talked crap and ate well which is what im planning to do tonight as well. Although this will be more curry and lager rather than brie and fine wines!

GTA IV

My monday started at 12.01 AM in a queue in rhyl with all the other hapless geeks including two chavs who couldnt decide whether to buy a copy or just mug someone for one. They decided against it as their victim might have bought a different version.

Back home and back to bed in time for a 7AM start and gaming all day at the Flyattic. Heaven. We went briefly online and it was like gazing into madness. Our worst fears realized.
However solo or just the 3 of us it was ace! Highly recomended.

an excellent weekend

Took Em out for some beer and burgers friday night. Bumped into an old friend from work and spent a lovely evening talking cobblers. Saturday was shopping day followed by a tech-mex evening at some friends where we fixed computers and ate mexican food. I say we, i did all the eating and Llion did the fixing.
And last night was the simply joyous Indiana Jones fest where we watched all 3 movies in Eds cinema room and ate pizza till burst point.
With GTA 4 being released tomorrow its a beautiful time to be a geek!

Good Advice

Part 137 in our ongoing series 'Good Advice' : Never trust a man who says "Ha Ha!" instead of actually laughing

sock er

Had an odd footie match last night. We play on a pitch designed for 3 sets of 5-a-side matches width ways or one 11 a side game along the length. We were a man short with 9 men and so were the only other team there.
In the spirit of the WWII trenches a game was organised of us versus them. Its interesting to measure how good people i thought were ace actually are against real competition.

However the point of this was we drew 4 all and EVERYONE said what a great match i had. No goals, no glory just hard running at the back. Which is nice considering how nerevous i was about screwing it up.

Lunchtime. Beautiful weather. Time for a walk I think.

weird day

Unusal item one. The water hose on the sink in work came off with explosive force drenching the walls and flooding part of the office.

Unusual item two. I went into our archive storage and found out its a WWII bomb shelter! Complete with airlock, shower and escape hatch! How weird!

Cocktales

Take 1 measure each of baileys, creme de caco(or kaluha) and butterscotch schnaps add two handfulls of crushed ice and two scoops of ice cream(chocolate or vanilla). Place in that smoothie machine that you bought to get healthy and never used, and blitz until its turned into beautiful sludgy chocolaty goodness. Enjoy!

Oh and dont be temped to use cheap spirits. The reason theyre expensive is theyre much purer hence zero hangover. Remeber cheap = painful.

P-A-R-T-Y-

Was the badminton club xmas party last night. Beer was supped, dancing was done, laughs were had and no fingers will be pointed.

One of the interesting things that i havent been sworn to secrecy over, were the photos from the club party 15 years ago. 1993 doesnt seem like that long ago to my poor addled brain but it is. Now were free of that age looking back you can see the fashions and the hairstyles, oh my God the hairstyles, that made the decade.

Going for a walk this afternoon to clear our heads before the cocktails this evening. Thinking about walking the beach rather than driving anywhere. Got a fuzzy singlemalt headache which is to be expected after four of us raided the pubs excellent selection of fine whisky.

home

Rhyl is founded on dirty copper money. The wastefull 1 and 2ps that we throw away. Is it any wonder that nothing good can come from it?

filmy

Saw four films in this bumper weekend some new some old some ace some ok.

From dusk till dawn is just as fresh and weird and quotable as ever. "Did they look like psychos to you? Psychos do not burst into flame when daylight hits them, I don't care how crazy they are!" its tarantino best acting and Clooney is simply gorgeous in it. Not a word i often use about men but he deserves it in this.

Futurama benders big score. Theyre back baby! The show that Fox couldnt kill is returned in a series of feature length direct to dvd movies. The plot is near incomprehensible, the jokes come thick and fast and its simply joyfull to see it again.

Hanibal rising. Is not a film i was keen to see. The scariest thing about that kind of character is the unknown and more importantly, the unknowable "why?" However in spite of all of that it turned out to be okay. Not the "full on gore and brutallity" that the box promised thank God, but a slow and thoughtful revenge movie.

And last and by all means least, priates of the caribean two: legend of the stupidly long title. Now i ADORED the 1st one and was told that this was an abomination so avoided it. Its not that bad but its not that great either. And when youre calling a film of that budget meidocre, somethings gone wrong somewhere.

success!

Well, partial success anyways. Came third in our group of five, won two lost two and that could easily of been 2nd if my partner hadn't had the most unreliable serve ever.

Actually thats far too bitchy, I'm really sorry, He played really well and I was impressed with a lot of his long shots and the way he kept his head up even when we were up against it. Not everyone was so lucky with their draw for partners.

In other news:

Notfussed.com is back, sort of. Notfussed was a group of people I used to do some writing with and for for a couple of years. Its demise in 2003 directly related to me actually starting this blog. I had no vent for my random spleen so I had to start somewhere. Hopefully it'll be back up fully soon. Just working on a couple of pieces for it now.

The Enemy have been accurately compared to the Jam but with a spark and vitality that is definitely this century. excellent stuff.

Coffee is one of my primary treats, in fact I wrote a whole diatribe on it in a piece of fiction that will probably never see the light of day. In fact here it is;
"3: How do I get some coffee?

Coffee, for me, is the universal language of the morning. It does not matter if you rise in your exquisite flat in Pall Mall or in a rough Yurt in deepest Asia, the grinding of the roasted beans and the brewing in hot, not boiling, water is a mantra that steadies the nerves and comforts the soul. The mere running through of the ritual is enough to start you on the road to cope with what ever fate may strew in your path that day and then the magical properties of the draft will imbue you with the courage to at least begin the day in the correct frame of mind. "

I do feel the need to point out its written in the style of an 18th century writer who's just been dispatched to pre-seige paris while the Prussian hordes are massing. The main reason I haven't done anything further with it is I can't decide to make it fully historically accurate or turn it into a 'birth of steampunk' type work.

The history angle will probably win out as its a fascinating, and relatively unexplored period in history without steam powered robots and Zeppelins being thrown into the mix.

Got another weekend of rugby goodness today and that'll probably be it until the Wales tour of South Africa in summer. Its been quite a season even without the grand slam. Its cemented my support of Welsh rugby in general, I think its a fantastic game and much more eventful than a premiership match. IMOHO

tonight!

Tonight is the end of season badminton tournement. Last year, my first one, I came 3rd in my group stage hope to do better this year.

Everyone plays so its a mixed ability thing. Then its off dans le pub!

list of things.

managed to track down some butterscotch schnapps and creme de cacao (chocolate) so cocktail night is go!

Ran the payroll by myself this month which was great. Well find out how well when the payslips go out to the people.

Bloke on tv managed to make new york look interesting and unique. When we went it felt like an overdeveloped Milton Keynes.

posty

Back in the bosom of wales. Had a lazy weekend reading writing and not camping due to the deluge we suffered.

Really wanted to camp but judgement better than mine won out. Thank goodness! Id still be soaked even now! Sadly it will be past june before we'll be able to go again as the weekends are just heaving.

Rewrote switch 3 last week. Much happier with the length and pace of it. Its always something i have to concentrate on im too keen to get to the bits i find interesting!

update.

Why is it snowing on easter sunday?

weekend of lesuire

At my sisters for a long easter weekend of sloth-itude. Been a hell of a week since winning the Grand slam. Its a hell of an achivement to win 5 and 0 two seasons out of four. But i digress...
Arrived on thurs and walked around damp london streets to gaze at architecture and find a good burger. I'm a simple creature that way. Also enjoyed some 12% belgian beer. Yummy!
Sat we stayed in the house all day and watched dvds. Heaven.
Sun we met up with Wezs parents. Ate some quality food drank some excellent beer and sang some atrocious karoke! Woo!

Best weekend ever!

woo hoo!

Grand slam baby! What a day! What a campaign! What a team! This is our superbowl! And now, the drinking may begin! For Wales!

wales 16 Ireland 12

Phew! I havent been that nerevous since i got married! A tight ugly little game but wales were tested by ireland and werent found wanting. Can relax and watch the Calcutta cup now!

irish stew.....in the name of the law.

Bore Da!

So today the mighty welsh take on the green giants of ireland and in there honour I'm trying to make an irish stew with leeks. Hmmm I'll let you know how that goes. If you don't much fancy the rugby howabout spending an hour or so whating one of the most beatuiful documentrys ever made. FOR FREE!

Sigur Ros have released their full length documentary "Heima" on Youtube. Its about them going home to Iceland and playing tiny free gigs for locals. The music is just otherworldly and beautiful. Its a full hour and a half though which I think is ace, this is the kind of thing the interwubs were invented for.

HERE

I love the idea of artists creating and putting stuff out there for free. I think what the rise of technology has done has take control out of the hands of publishers. People are creating just as much now as they ever did but if you're a musician you can use myspace to get your songs heard. If you're a film maker youtube will take care of all your distribution needs. If you're a writer there are hundreds of free places to get your writing published (If you're really cheap you just upload it on your blog.)

Not much else has been happening, played some of the worst badminton of my life on monday, I blame a poor diet, then played pretty good football on tuesday, Wednesday we chilled the hell out thursday and friday more badminton.

Oh I've stocked up on beer and playdough for tonight so expect stupid photos soon!

Most Cats wouldn't let you put them in dunagrees

A veritable multitude of stuff.

So, how you been?

Well the sunday after the mad angleseys dash we headed up through the hills over Moel Famau to a little pub in cilcain and then walked back, which was an ace way of spending a sunday. Work was fairly dull that week, then I went to my old local for a leaving do.

It was quiet odd actually, I got talking to one of the bar maids that I used to know quite well, and it turns out in the intervening year or so since I was last there she working in Australia for 6 months and saw he world, then one of the other bar type persons whose moved on walked in and we had quiet a little chin wag. Its weird how you can have such a profound affect on people without even meaning to. I mean these guys must have served thousands of different people working at that bar, but they remembered me and my friends because we were always nice and treated them like people rather than servants.

I remember working at the bar in liverpool the tip system was very simple and worked in cabs as well, the client would say 'take your own' and you'd round the change up to the nearest 50p. Less shrapnel for them to carry on a night out, and some of the jeans were tight, and a bit of tip for the end of the night. It was little things like that which would get you remember and served first when you came back to the bar. obviously flashing TOO much cash would have the reverse effect but being a poor student that was highly unlikely to happen.

So after a highly satisfactory night out we had an evening in watching rugby on saturday with the usual crew, much fun, beer and cottage pie...YUMMY!

Got the bare bones of the next story together. I could wash my hands of it now, but I think sitting on it for a couple of days and coming to it fresh will really do it the power of good. It worked for the last switch.

Sunday was a quiet affair back at HQ. Had a heavy badminton match on monday, I won my mixed and lost the mens by 2 points I think, A sterling performance on all counts. I'm noticing I'm missing more shots towards the end of the match so I think I'm going to have to work on my fitness to keep a good level; of competition for the whole event. But everyones been really complementary about my game recently. Just need to learn to smash. I got hit by a shuttle fired from our A team number one man and its still hurting today! Now thats power! It sounds like a howitzer when he really lets fly. But the best thing is hes actually a really nice guy. He'll quiet happyily have a game with new starters just to get them playing.

Today its time for geekfest again, we haven't just got together to plaay silly coimputer games in ages so thats the plan.

HAVE YOU SEEN OUR VIEW??????

I will, if I may, eulogize about yesterday being as it was one of my favorite saturdays.

It totally re-ignited my desire to spend all my free time in the countryside. There was not a single cloud in the sky, as em and I left Rhyl for destinations unknown. we stopped in Betws y coed and had an awesome fried breakfast and I managed to get a new goretex waterproof for forty of your english pounds!!! I was prepared to pay an extra hundred quid on top of that. It was then on to Anglesey where what confronted us was a beach of rare beauty with the sun bright but not too strong. It was absolute heaven. we stayed for a few hours, came home and went straight to the pub were we sat talking for about four or five hours and Em totally cured my narrative block with Switch number 3. I had one of those moments that I actually write for. Em said a simple sentence, the planets aligned and the scales fell from my eyes showing me how easy the thing I had considered so complicated before.

Then after me bouncing around the room in an embarrassing fashion full of the fizz of invention we went home watched a club rugby game and ate posh hot-dogs with home-brew until it was time to sleep.

If I could have one day to live over and over again in a groundhog day sty-lee, it would be that one (or my wedding day, I'm not fussy!)


(N>B> Blogger seems to be having a brain fart so the photos from today are at flikr the links on the left there. Don't be shy!)

As long as we beat the English.......

Morning!

What a great weekend we had last week.

For those unaccustomed to Rugby I have to point out we do not *hate* England. They are the yardstick by which we measure our own level of achievement, they are the team to beat, the Yankees if you will. Some fans take this whole us against the english thing to darn far but for me I want to see a strong powerful England. And then I want to see wales smash them.

So thats was saturday afternoon and we followed our astounding victory with a pub crawl around Denbigh which was actually great fun, some nice pubs there, some not so nice ones but thats to be expected! Sunday I sat up with a friend and watched the Superbowl whilst he explained the intricasies of the NFL to me. Its actually a very interesting game blending power and skill in equal measure. I think a lot of people are put of by 'stoppages' but really there aren't that many. I really enjoyed the game and the fact is was won in the last minute of time with and incredible display of skill also helps!

Monday was a recovery day and then on tuesday I scored at five aside! I should point out I play way way back in defence and in three years of playing I've taken about two or three strikes on goal and this one went in. I couldn't actually belive it in fact I may have been a little embarassing! whoops.

Anyway I had to celebrate somehow.

Wednesday saw Cloverfield at the cinema, I can't reccomend it enough. its a superbly thought out and well made movie but may induce motion sickness in those prone to it.

Thursday played some of the best badminton of my life and then played like crap last night but thats okay. Because today is Wales v Scotland both teams with something to prove and it should be a good match up!

Laters!

Remember me?

Morning.

Been a really quiet couple of weeks. I actually managed to bore myself the other day whilst speaking and that cannot be a good thing. I've kinda realized that my life has become quiet and nondescript. And do you know what? I LOVE IT.

Domesticity has been so good for me. it helps, Of course, if you marry an angel like what I did!

Urm played a lot of badminton recently and I've definitely felt an improvement in my game. Its kind of weird that some of the younger members (15+) have started picking me for doubles. Its kind of like being accepted. I suppose I've been there for two seasons now so I am a full member type thing. Weird.

Sorry I know I'm rambling, this is a weird phase for me, I've got a semi-cold which means I'm having about a thousand ideas but half of them don't make sense and I keep tailing off mid sentence.

ANYWAYS

Its the happiest weekend of the year for me as it the start of the 6-nations today, Wales get to face our neighbors and test our mettle against the world cup finalists. Personally I think we're going to get muellered but there is a chance we could turn them. Just got to put a comforting layer of beer in-between me and reality before kick off!

Other things I wanted to discuss:

The WOMBATS are ace.
WOMBAT me

Scientologists are a bunch of cults who really need to be stopped.
SCARE me

Dan Abnett is one of the best writers I've ever had the privllidge of reading.
INSPIRE me

The Democratic candiate is a choice between the whitest black man I've ever seen or the most masculine woman. Still, better than Romney.
VOTE (for anyone but) me

Peace out Homeslices.