No, Really..This Is Too Much.

And later on in the same issue Whirlwind's kind of in a quasi-rape situation with The Wasp..in the previous panel he says 'You owe me a taste of your honey' (I would understand what he meant if she was called The Bee) - and quite honestly I'm shocked to the gills that this kind of thing is happening in mainstream Marvel Comics.
I really don't like my Super Villains degraded like this.

Ouch

The Wasp & Yellow Jacket using their super powers to have sex (The Avengers Vol3 No 71). Now, I thought that sort of thing didn't go on.
He's made himself really small and has been, well, running around..you know.. down there.
I'm shocked.

Xmas Message

Ah, Christmas Day. A time to eat and be given things. A time to raid the stationary cupboard at work and to wonder why Noel Edmunds isn't on the telly live from some sick kid's hospital.
Even though I don't want to - I know I'll watch Harry Potter And The Lump Of Shit later. That's assuming we've finished watching The Great Escape ( I have it on tape - seeing as it's never on telly at Christmas any more).
Once I get out of the BBC pit, I'm heading home - and quite looking forward to it - neither of us is ill for the first time in three years, and we have lots and lots of food. It has to be better than Christmas Eve - my cooker failing to work, almost blowing myself up trying to sort out a light fitting in the bog, one of Kate's cats bleeding from the arse. It was just Bad Karma all round.
Still, it's a day to forget the bad times I had this year - the imminent falling of the BBC axe (Again), Van Helsing, Billy Connoly everywhere, getting a new postman who doesn't know shit about house numbers, the Uber-Crap Kill Bill Vol.2, that twat who won X Factor, my cat Planet deciding to drop dead (I think he was just sick of me), Big Brother, finding out Jane (News 24 Ultra-Babe) is a lesbo, VHS getting bum-fucked, Little Britain (What? It's crap), Angel getting the chop, The Book Cellar in Braunton closing down (even though I got about 40 books for £10), and meeting Tony Blair and not kicking him in the balls.
Still, there were good things - finding the Albion Bookstore in Las Vegas (the best shop I've ever been in, I almost shot my load), Some Girls by Rachel Stevens, Dawn Of The Dead, getting Kansas City Bomber on VHS, the Jah Wobble remix of Down Boy by Holly Valance, We Three by Grant Morrison, Battlestar Galactica, finally getting hold of a copy of Skull-Face by Robert E Howard, finding out Jane's a lesbo (well, once I started thinking about it...), Ultimate Fantastic Four, getting spazmo pissed with Kek-W then eating 50 cocktail sausages, and the Godlike Genius Of Ebay (where I bought, among other things, a silver polystyrene head).
With the wind behind me I should be home in time for Christmas All New Top Of The Pops, I just hope Kate lets me watch it.
Merry Christmas.

Super Villain 2

Here's my Christmas present to all my readers - June Chadwick as the evil Lydia in V - The Series.
That lizard tongue just sends me.
Hoping to post a Christmas message tomorrow while I'm AT WORK.
I'm sure everyone will get up early at watch BBC Breakfast to see how badly I manage to fuck up the show.

Super Villain

Here's my new cat - Jupiter.
Although he's cute looking, he is, in fact, Evil.

Toby, The King Of Bad Taste

Many thanks for the late birthday prez from Toby, a tee-shirt from an Oz casino which proclaims: 'Liquor up Front - Poker In The Rear'.
Welcome back, old boy.

It's a terrible thing, dying healthy.

Flash has a really bad dream.

Birthday Madness

A couple of Uber Cool presents from Kate & Lurch - Olivia Newton-John- 'The Definitive Collection' - which is pretty fucking excellent. And a kind of Super-Villain encyclopedia, which I'm trawling through very slowly due to an Ultra-Hangover.
I had no idea there were 5 Crimson Dynamos and 4 Mr Fears - or that The Porcupine was dead (impaled by one of his own quills apparently).
Also in my big Lucky Bag were Buffy Season 7 (Thanks JC) - on VHS! - I refuse to be bullied by giant corporations into endless new formats. If one more person tells me how fucking wonderful fucking DVD is I'm going to shoot up a Burger King. I don't need the extras, man. If they're so fucking great why aren't they in the film in the fucking first place?
Also a Kylie / Hunter S Thompson parcel from Kek-W which rocks. Kylie's too big for the scanner otherwise she'd be plastered all over this post.
Also a Ghost Rider & bike Super-Poseable action figure (37 points of articulation - Wow), again from Lurch. Took it out of the box, wrecking the packaging, immediately.
All in all a good haul. Thanks folks.

GA In Space

Now...left to right - Kimberley, Nadine, Sarah (Bad Trousers), Cheryl (damn -can't find a swastika symbol on my keyboard), Ruff Nicola. Got that Kek?
This is the original 1st album cover before they re-packaged it to look like everything else. It'll be worth a fortune in about 50 years time.
It's just so cool I almost bought it & now I wish I fucking had. It's Boss Science Fiction and it should be a 60s book cover.
Click to ENLARGE.

Joe Pasquale For President

Appalling to see Natalie Appleton walk off 'I'm A Celebrity..' after only failing 5 trials. She seemed so hardy.
Good, though, to see Uber-Nobody Nancy Sorrell get the sack. She got no air time despite getting 'em out constantly, which was ace. Being Vic Reeves' fluff isn't much of a career boost these days. Neither is being Vic Reeves. Joe Pasquale is funnier than Reeves. How Very, Very superb.
My faith in the British public is slowly returning - you have to admit their non-stop torture of Nat was inspired.

Brighton Book Shop Hell

Just returned from 48 hours in Brighton. Found a couple of nice Burroughs with Frank Frazetta covers to add to my growing pulp pile.
It's astonishing how many of the book shops down there stick price labels on their stock that take half the cover off when you remove them. I actually asked in one shop because I found a nice copy of Sven Hassel's 'Assignment Gestapo' and the bloke said 'Nah, mate, them old books it'll rip the cover'. Nice, professional approach. Needless to say I put the book back.
At least he told me, I suppose.

An Apology

I just wanted to apologize publicly for my previous post about killing people.
I don't know what came over me - but I forgot Gaby Roslin. Jesus, I hate her more than any of them.
Tedious, moronic, talentless, shouting bag of stale blonde shit with eyes that say 'Where Am I?'.
She's had more shows axed than Richard Blackwood.
When I win the lottery, my agenda includes giving 1 million to Children In Need if Roslin fucks off the telly - now. She'd have to do it.
It's a genius plan.

Meet The GA

So, I was working with Girls Aloud yesterday for a Children In Need Breakfast Special Thing (needless to say I was being paid - I would have offered my services for free but I don't like children and I certainly don't think they need anything).
Anyway- once I'd gotten Cheryl Tweedy to take off her swastika armband it all went pretty well.
It was fascinating to discover that Nicola (The Rough One), isn't actually the ruffest, Cheryl, apart from being a Nazi, is actually pretty fucking ugly. An astonishing turn of events.
Also, only two can actually talk (Sarah & Nadine), the other three can only giggle. I actually had to look at their website to find out which was which before the show- ( www.girlsaloud.co.uk/site.php ) - the other one being Kimberley - and, as official GA websites go - it Rocks.
Still, the whole experience was V heartwarming, hearing them talk (well, two of them, anyway) about how wonderful it was to 'get involved in something' so 'worthwhile' & 'career promoting'.
Thick as shit, God Bless Em.

People Who Should Fuck Off Before I Kill Them

Nick Hornby (get a job).

Ewan McGregor (really - what is anyone thinking putting him in anything?).

Frank Skinner (Why? Why Is He On My Telly?).

Geri Halliwell (Somebody kill her - before it's too late).

Uma Thurman (Man's Face).

Band Aid 20 (Surely they know it's Christmas by now - do we really need to keep telling them?).

Lleyton Hewitt (Nazi Aussie with spots who couldn't even keep hold of his pug-ugly girlfriend).

David Schwimmer (Tit).

Peter Andre & Jordan (A six part series on ITV1 - is that really necessary?).

All The Osbornes Except Ozzie.

Phil Jupitas (You're not funny - no, really, you're not funny).

Ben Elton (Neither are you).

Anyone With The Surname 'Bedingfield'.

John Leslie (Oh - he has fucked off).

Anthea Turner (So has she - Snowflake guzzling bitch).

Jez Todd (Cameraman who lives down my road - let's face it - if your name's Jez - you're a Wanker).

Carol Fucking Vorderman.

The Person Responsible For Maintainance On The BBC 2nd Floor Tea Bar Coffee Machine.

It's not that I'm having a bad day or anything - but Wow, I feel better for that.

At Last...

Doc Savage #117/118 - the 2nd rarest book of the series..is finally mine. I now have the whole set - that's 124 books. 96 singles, 15 doubles & 13 omnibuses. Plus the 3 Philip Jose Farmer books.
I haven't bothered with the '90s Will Murray books 'cause I'm a purist.
I feel much better for letting you all know.
God bless Ebay.

Underneath The Bottom Of The Food Chain

I don't consider myself a snob - but Abi Titmuss - what a sack of shit.
No particular reason for posting this - it just feels right.

Hang In There, Yasser

Now, this may come across as a tad selfish, but I really need Arafat to stay alive until at least 10.45pm tonight. I'm getting near the end of my World Service shift and I really don't need the place going batshit until I'm out of the door.
Kek-W is turning up later for a Cinzano Bianco and I don't want to come across as a bad host by not being at home when he shows up.

John Peel

There are a lot of records in my collection by bands and artists whom I would never of known existed if it hadn't been for John Peel.

Go, Boris

I was originally going to write this as a comment on Psychbloke's blog (http://psychbloke.blogspot.com ) - but I thought if I'm going to be offensive I'd better stay here.
That article in The Spectator - what's the problem?
I think the media reaction to it (the same media camped outside Ken Bigley's sick grandmother's bedroom window), was as hysterically over-reactionary as their coverage was of Bigley's situation in the first place.
Sure, we all know his name, his plight was much more tragic because he was British. What were the names of the two Americans captured with him? I don't know. What was the name of that Turkish truck driver that got decapitated? I don't know that either.
As for the accusations that the Liverpool community are wallowing in it -yeah - they are, they always do. How dare anyone say it.

D Of The D

Saw the Dawn Of The Dead remake last night - superb. Best movie I've seen in quite a while. The original's a classic, no doubt, but this really lives up to Romero's standards. By far and away the best of the recent batch of horror remakes. It's fast & harsh. Go see.
That twat who made 28 Days Later could learn a lot from watching this film.
On Sky One, straight after, watched the new Battlestar Galactica pilot. That was really pretty good too. The series starts Monday night & I may well be investing my time in watching a few episodes - run it up the flagpole & see who salutes it. It's quite hard. Starbuck's a woman, though. I'm not sure how I feel about that. Maybe it's time for me to accept that time's moved on & women can fly Vipers.

Nobody Deserves This

So, I finish the Six O'Clock News, get a big coffee and go outside , and U2 are playing live in the fucking car park. What's that all about?
I get bombarded with 'Desi-er-re-er-re'. People screaming and shouting. I only went out for a cigarette. I feel my human rights have been infringed.
If I'd known earlier I would've brought my sniper rifle. There are a couple of good balconies high up and I could have been away, no problem.

Number Of The Beastie.

My feedback on Ebay reached a sinister level today. Dominiczero (666).
Oooooo.

Genius Stolen

Nice to see that The Daily Mirror is reading my blog - and ripping it off.
My deeply researched Phobia blog from August was reproduced rather sloppily in yesterdays rag.
As Kek-W says - 'genius`steals', although in this case it's the other way round.

King Of Kings

Watching the Grand Prix Snooker this week (endlessly interrupted by The Conservative Nazi Conference), I was reminded what a fucking genius Jimmy White is. Although he got bumped in the 2nd round (a final frame thriller), it brought back sterling memories of the late 80's & early 90s when he repeatedly reached the World finals only to be beaten by Stephen Hendry (The Alien).
Watching now, although he's not as good as he was, he still has the crowd & he still has the game (provisionally no 5 in the World Rankings), and he's a bright light amongst all the charisma-less accountants that play the game these days.
If you never read another sport book, read this biog, it's a drinking frenzy with some snooker in it. Fear and Loathing in Sheffield.
I once worked with a guy who knew him & was out on the famous Tooting drinking session where they took the corpse of Jimmy's brother with them - now that's a wake.
He was beaten this week by outsider Ian MacCulloch - who has presumably cut off his floppy fringe so he can see the balls better.

The Savage Breast

Well, now, found this little gem for 20p the other day. It wasn't so much the bondage as the weird voodoo heads top left that attracted me.
'She was devoted to spending money, pampering her beautiful body, and looking for kicks on the wrong side of town.'
I've put it on Ebay & the bids're up to £2.75. I may retire on this one.

Keeping The Dream Alive

I am now forming a band with Tina (aka The Plank) from S Club.
We originally wanted a German backing band & were going to call ourselves SS Club, but this proved difficult as we don't know any Germans. ( I know a couple of Nazis - but they're not musicians - or German.)
So we've settled on the name The New Lurkers.
She's singing and playing tambourine (not at the same time). I'm playing bongos.
We're mostly going to do covers of Stiff Little Fingers songs (her rich voice really suits 'Johnny Was') - and possibly some early Bucks Fizz (the pre- sell out material).
We're hoping to recruit Dick Vomit on drums & Richie Sambora on bass. We may not bother with a guitarist (though John Parrish keeps calling - he wants to produce too - fucking control freak). We're going for a quasi-ironic sound (like The Mavericks used to have). I guess our style will be Drum & Bass & Tambourine & Bongo.
Unfortunately our debut gig may have to be postponed because Tina (aka The Plank) is doing a 'get em out' shoot for FHM to pay for some new trousers she wants to buy.
Hopefully this won't delay our first single - 'Zulu Dawn' - being released in time for the Christmas charts, although I am having to rewrite the lyrics to make some of the words a bit shorter for her.
Watch this space. Or don't.

Stay Awake

I dreamed last night I was in The Munsters.
Got up at 3.30 am and went to work at the BBC - so I can't actually tell when the dream ended and Real Life began.
I do remember Tina (aka The Plank) from S Club was there - and she's not here now - so I guess I'm awake.
How very.

Fishy

A couple of Cool books picked up recently, while I'm on the subject of fish.

1981 In The Acid Cellar

Drinking the other night with one Dick Vomit at Skipper Webb's birthday celebrations.
He was telling me he'd found a vintage tape of pop combo Terror Fish, circa 1981, in his mum's attic. He seemed V happy as he'd been going on about their celebrated drug classic 'The Squeaking Goblin' for approximately 18 years.
He still wants to do a cover of it. What superb taste he has.
Found this poster at the back of my filing cabinet for their last ever gig in the dungeoness underground shithole Baxter's - where anybody would be lucky to leave alive.
Berlin Nacht, the support act, were Crewkerne's answer to, well, all the other bands with a desire to have German names. They were a cross between A Flock Of Seagulls & Toto.
Note the Void Jazz logo, possibly the most prolific organizers of drug-fuelled, bargain-basement, off the wall, deranged, one off gigs of their time.
My memories of this gig are vague, but I do remember the joy of leaving the place without a broken glass being put in my face.

The Yellow Scourge

Operator 5 - A really powerful secret agent dude. Fights The Yellow Empire, even though they're invisible a lot of the time. He had only just rid the world of The Purple Emperor, it was obviously a time when America was under threat from a variety of colours.
Cover by George Gross, who also did all the covers of The Avenger series.
'Operator 5 matched his individual might against a million war-drunk terrorists.'
That's quite hard.

Wimped Out

Due to two punishing nights on the razz in a row - I am hereby withdrawing from any further drinking engagements until at least Friday.

Never Meet Your Heroes

Yesterday I worked a day from Hell at Nickelodeon auditioning 19 potential presenters. Really, working auditions is the most painful & tedious thing I do. And because it's kids telly they're all young & keen & awful people. They each had to do a five minute slot presenting without stopping, introducing videos, interviewing a pretend pop star & babbling to camera. Believe me, five minutes is a long time to talk at a camera for & most corpse halfway through or lose the plot completely- and that's painful to watch.
Most notable victim was Rochelle from S Club 8, who a) Wasn't very good, b) Was a bit snooty.
I can't see her getting a call-back.
I do hope the rest of the band aren't veering in the same precious direction.

The Solar Invasion

As picked up for £1.00 at the weekend - a Captain Future classic with a Frank Frazetta cover.
Written by sub - E R Burroughs pulper Manly Wade Wellman around 1946, here's a snip of dialogue:
"What is it Joan?" the Captain urged.
"Oh God! Captain, it's gone!"
"What's gone, Joan?"
"The moon, Captain. It's disappeared. The moon no longer exists."
Only Captain Future can save the universe from a brutal, blazing cataclysm.
Oh, yeah.

A Shit Week By Anybody's Standards

Monday 6th September
Itchy back. Still seething over the drubbing I got at Texas Hold Em poker at the weekend. In at work for an OK shift that finishes at 7.30pm.
Accidentallly get sauced on expensive West End lager with my brother. He tells me they're remaking The Toolbox Murders. Why would they do that?
He's speaking to me again now I've cut all my hair off. He has Ponytail Copyright you know.
Kate has begun an eight day stint working with Puppets - so I won't be seeing much of her.
Tim Henman is no.5 in the world & is doing OK at the U.S. Open.

Tuesday 7th September
Itchy back. Hangover.
Tim Henman still doing good at the Open. I think about getting Sky Sports for the week then think Nah.
I'm on the OK shift again which includes Working Lunch (a bloodbath of a show), during which Adrian Childs (the presenter) really pisses me off, but, due to it being one of the few shows I work on which bears my name in the credits, I refrain from rolling up his scripts & inserting them up his anus without a lubricant.
Delays on the Central & Northern lines means it takes me an hour and forty minutes to get home where I have no food and nothing's on the telly.

Wednesday 8th September
Itchy and slightly sore back. I may have a spot.
On an eleven hour shift in News 24. Working in News 24 is like being slapped constantly with a dead fish. You need two brains, eight arms and a big bag of crack to get through the day in there. Think Battle Of The Somme.
After work I accidentally get sauced with Toby. He tells me they're remaking Assault On Precinct 13. Why would they do that?
We drink cheap Tooting lager in a pub that, astonishingly, yet luckily, doesn't have the England match on. We discuss Nazi memorabilia and our favourite horror films. His seems to be The Entity. Mine is Magnolia.
Henman is winning his quarter-final. I go to bed.

Thursday 9th September
Very itchy, very sore back. Hangover.
Another day of the mind- butchering, shear blind flapping of News 24.
I get to see Kate after work as she's had a day off from the Puppets. We drink tea and she inspects my back & says it's not a spot - it may be some kind of allergy-rash. She asks if I have changed my washing powder lately.
I have. Just last week I had changed from Persil to Ariel. This may be the answer.
Henman's into the semi-finals. I go to bed.

Friday 10th September
Itchier & sorer back.
I have the day off, so I tour the charity shops but come back with nothing but a couple of Thunderbirds books from Scope. I dump the Ariel and buy back into Persil.
As I reach the point where wearing a shirt hurts and I can't sit back on the couch - I give up and go to the doctor.
'Shingles' he says and washes his hands.
'Shit' I say.
This takes the edge off my happiness at Tim Henman's imminent appearance in the U.S. Open semi-finals.
Shingles? Isn't that some kind of 18th century boil infection spread by unclean villagers? I just hope that, during my contagious period, I at least infected Fiona Bruce.
I keep ringing the Cats Protection League re a replacement for my recently deceased cat Planet (I'm so glad he didn't have to see me like this). The CPL have already been round to check my flat is 'suitable'. But I'm dealing with freaks here. They want me to give up my job if they give me a kitten.
'You work full time?' A gentle voiced woman says on the phone. 'It's like having a baby - you must be there all the time'.
No, it's like having a fucking kitten. I'm going to call it Clusterfuck and let it sleep in the washing machine. Screw charity - I'm going to a pet shop.
I try to go to bed early, but waiting for a big pizza keeps me up.

Saturday 11th September
Seething boil-infested back.
Up at 4.30 am trying to smear Calamine Lotion on unreachable parts of my back.
My 4.50 cab is late and I get to work just in time to find the decent coffee machine is broken and nobody seems to be trying to fix it. This is heavy news when your going on air at 6.00 am for four and a half fucking hours. I debate whether to tear the canteen guy to pieces.
I get slapped around in News 24 all morning - it's the anniversary of 9/11 - so that's a laugh - and by the time I get home I'm ready to kill somebody for no reason.
Luckily The Professionals with Lee Marvin is on and it calms me greatly, even though I have to watch the whole thing without leaning back on my Boils.
Following this Charmed is on and they're all off to some Valkyrie island so they have to get dressed up in leather to blend in. Nice. Very distracting. I go to bed immediately even though I was going to stay up and watch Tim Henman on Teletext.

Sunday 12th September
Up at 4.30 am again, Calamine Lotioning my rancid back. I had woken up at 4.25 then gone back to sleep and the alarm went off at 4.30. Why does that happen?
My Taliban cab is on time but I have to direct him all the way to White City. He's lucky I don't throw him out and drive myself.
I get through the News 24 experience relatively untainted - except when I find out Henman's got dumped in the semi-final. It seemed harsh. I wanted him to win a Grand-Slam that wasn't Wimbledon, just to annoy people.
I stop at a book fair on the way home. It's crap. It's all hard backs and grown-ups. I feel a tad out of place and get the hell out.
I find a rare John Creasey and The Solar Invasion by Manly Wade Wellman on the way home, so it isn't a complete waste of time.
Kate's still off with the Puppets, so I Calamine up and watch TCM's western weekend for eight hours.
Rio Bravo, The Naked Spur and The Searchers all back to back. I was going to stay up and watch Unforgiven too, but I was depressed enough by that point. My god, so much killing.
I buy a box of American Perry Rhodans on Ebay and go to bed.

And that was my week. It's Monday now. I still have Boils, I don't have a kitten - but Tim Henman is N0.4 in the world.
One day I will look back on this week and vomit.

Boss Of Cowboys

High Chaparral Airfix figures. I got an Uber- Time Tunnel flashback when I saw this box. The best TV western ever & the best H0 - 00 scale plastic figures ever.
Airfix also did a Tarzan special edition with Boy & elephants & hippos & shit, I can't justify the serious money it takes to get that set. They also did a box of civilians - which might well be the rarest of the lot. I seem to remember owning the box of civilians - I don't know what they were for - but the best game was flying an Airfix Superfortress over them and pretending it was Nagasaki. The scale was right.
Anyway - I have 165 channels & The High Chaparral is never on any of them, surely there's a gap in the cable market for all this old stuff. That's what they used to do & they stopped as soon as I signed up.
Big John Cannon was really hard. My mum liked Manolito. Victoria - well, there was something of an obsession there (she spent half the time tied up by Apaches, but they never broke her spirit). Buck was hard too - but irresponsible with it. Blue Boy was a bit crap (and spent half the time tied up by Apaches).
On a tenuous note - my bruv Andrew tells me that a remake of The Toolbox Murders (starring Cameron Mitchell) is on the cards. My only question is - Why?

Two Hours Out Of My Life

Kill Bill Vol. 2 (or part 2 of Quentin Tarantino's journey up his own arse).
Wow, that was a waste of 2 hours. Turgid, dull, endless 'meaningful' dialogue. Badly written, badly paced, Tarantino obviously watches a lot of films then copies them and adds nothing. Well done.
The mish-mash of styles kind of worked in the first film (if you fast-forward through that awful Manga bit), but in this one there's no action to take your mind off it. You get slapped about by a barrage of different music styles (some of them so painfully obvious it's shocking) that gets annoying about 15 minutes in.
If you nailed the two volumes together you might get a half-decent 1 hour 40 minute straight to video movie.
As it is, apart from Michael Madsen - who's just God - this film really sucks.
David Carradine deserves better. Uma Thurman doesn't.

Smagent Of SHIELD

Nick Fury Agent Of Shield (1998) - on TV the other night - taped it, watched it this morning. A truly inspiring TV movie of a calibre unseen in recent years.
That's Viper at the back (not green, but very mad), and Countessa Valentina Allegro de Fontaine up front (Lisa Rinna out of Melrose Place no less).
David Hasselhoff smokes cigars, wears an eyepatch & stomps Hydra ass exceptionally well.
I've been waiting to see this movie for about three years, and now I have.

Self Control

Sad to hear Laura Branigan bought the farm, not exactly a queen of Soft Metal, but 'Self Control' was a drum machine classic of the genre.

Charlie's Angels Fix

For those of you like myself who are a bit freaked at the Cheryl Ladd Gallery not updating for over a month - www.jeanstown.freeserve.co.uk - here she is all tied up yet strangely left with full use of a radio. That's just weak writing.

Scared? You Will Be

At work, killing the 5 hours between news bulletins, what does one do? Of course - research Phobias. After all, there's only so much coffee you can drink & so many cigarettes you can smoke.
Actually I was trying to find the proper name for the Fear Of Disintegration (Which I think Kek has). Couldn't find it - but I did find these:

Amathophobia - Fear of Dust.

Chaetophobia - Fear of Hair.

Francophobia - Fear of French Culture. (I may have that).

Homichlophobia - Fear of Fog.

Myxophobia - Fear of Slime.

Pupaphobia - Fear of Puppets.

Nucleomituphobia - Fear of Nuclear Explosions (I've got that).

Atomosophobia - Fear of Atomic Explosions (I haven't got that).

Xerophobia - Fear of Dryness.

Dinophobia - Fear of Whirlpools.

Geniophobia - Fear of Chins.

Barophobia - Fear of Gravity.

Lutraphobia - Fear of Otters.

Metrophobia - Fear of Poetry.

Cyclophobia - Fear of Bicycles (I've got that - but only when they're on the FUCKING PAVEMENT).

Arachibutyrophobia - Fear of Peanut Butter Sticking To The Roof Of The Mouth.

Astrophobia - Fear of Celestial Space or Stars.

Limnophobia - Fear of Lakes.

Zemmiphobia - Fear of The Great Mole Rat.

Apeirophobia - Fear of Infinity (I don't have the attention span to be scared of that).

Takethatophobia - Fear of Being Bum-Fucked By Robbie Williams (Ask Andrea Corr).

I tell you what - I'm not spell-checking this, I'll be here all night.

20th Anniversary

Just a quick note to celebrate the fact that for the 20th year running I am not going to the Notting Hill Fucking Carnival.

Very Important Announcement

Tuesday 31st August on ITV1 - Nick Fury - Agent Of SHIELD.
Starring David Hasselhoff - The Most Famous Man On The Planet (Official).
Do not miss.

Blazing Adventure!

From the very fires of Hell he came to wreak havoc and death on all civilization. G-8 -- America's Flying Spy -- combats a fiend inhuman and barbaric -- a fiend whose henchmen are the dregs of the Earth, and whose hate is fiercer than the forces of nature...The Steel Mask!

Television's Over

Whilst musing last years demise of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, followed this year by Angel, it has occurred to me that Television sucks.
Buffy was underground TV that made it big. It grew and improved constantly. Most of all it survived, pretty much intact, for its whole run. As did Angel.
And now, what do I watch? It seems nothing has replaced them.
Firefly almost did, but it was axed before it had time to breathe.
Alias almost did, but the constant blubbering of its heroine and the complete chickening out of a major character being bumped off at the start of Season Two sunk it for me.
Charmed is lightweight fluff. The Simpsons is rerunning itself. CSI is being flooded with spinoffs.
24 has been defeated by its own gimmick (call it 12 - I might watch it then).
The Sopranos - is that still going? If so who cares?
British TV is even worse. If they're not ripping off US TV wholesale (Waking The Dead), they're battering me with endless 'reality' and home owner shows (improve your home - clean your home - sell your home - buy a home abroad then freak out and come back).
Eastenders? Its piteous desire to be cutting edge and 'relevant' is what lets it down. Be a soap. Get some alien abduction in there.
Tony Robinson digging up some Roman shit? Live? Why?
Buy some stuff at a bootsale, then, I know, don't even sell it, just guess what it's worth. Outstanding.
And what exactly is left for 'reality' TV? Stubbing fags out on some 23 year old wannabe's cock? Or maybe some Ordinary People Who Want To Be On Telly experiencing what it was like to be in the showers at Auschwitz.
The subversive TV of the early 90s' effect is dissipating - Twin Peaks was anarchy and opened lots of doors that are now swinging closed.
And Seinfeld was harsher anarchy, more subversive because it masqueraded so well as a bland sitcom. Without it many shows would never have existed - Frasier, Phoenix Nights and Will And Grace to name but a few. Now every channel is just waiting for the new Friends.
I miss Buffy The Vampire Slayer - it was tangible TV and it's left a huge gap in the schedules that nobody seems to be even trying to fill.
I have a hundred and sixty-two channels and there's nothing on.
Oh, hang on - Charlie's Angels is on Five.

The Poisoners

The Poisoners by Donald Hamilton.
If you're into gas-mask women with guns - Matt Helm's your man.

Mister Elmer Bernstein 1922 - 2004

Death of a pop genius.
The obvious - The Magnificent Seven (1960), The Great Escape (1963), The Man With The Golden Arm (1955). The not so obvious - Robot Monster (1953), Cat Women Of The Moon (1953), Drango (1957), The Silencers (1966), Saturn 3 (1980), The Grifters (1990).
Above all, the genius behind the deranged jazz of TV show Johnny Staccato (1959).
All that and only one Oscar.
Truly, the man did write godlike tunes.

Bold Eagle Bummer

Rrrumblers by Hot Wheels - I am entirely gutted that I panicked and flogged this on Ebay for a mere £85.00, then probably spent the money on Doc Savage books or Timpo Arabs.
Now I am sad & all I have is this picture.

Robots R Us

I, Robot - Not at all bad for a Will Smith movie. Precious little to do with Asimov's book - which is probably for the best. Lots of smashing stuff up, lots of robots running about.
I find it most reassuring knowing that 30 years into the future leather trousers will still be around.

In The Fat News

Geri Halliwell's porked again.
Fantastic.
Also, whilst on the subject - a 43 stone woman's skin grew into the fabric of her sofa because she didn't get up off it for five years. Fucking Hell.

Sam Raimi - Keep It Going

Spiderman 2 - A rare celluloid superhero treat. Sam Raimi hits the spot while so many get it wrong. It transcends the slightly dodgy CGI of the first movie.
Still. How come Kirsten Dunst is so strangely sexless? Even when wet?
And - Doc Ock - terrific though he is - how come his tentacles reminded me so much of Rod Hull & Emu?
It looks like the next movie will feature The Lizard as the major villain. A bit poor, really. Yet another mad scientist. I was never a big Lizard fan.
What about The Rhino?
Or Hive (A bloke made of fucking bees).
Still, let's just hope Raimi stays with the program and they don't hand it over to that twat who ruined the Batman movies.

Gorgo, man

Gorgo - picked up for 20p in some backstreet record shop in Dawlish. Thought I'd share the image & savour it before I flog it on Ebay. Who knows, could be a sleeper.

Locklear 'n' Load

Heather Locklear in mighty gun pose from T J Hooker.
Click to enlarge, it's well worth it.

Films That People Say Are Shit But Aren't

Due to being at work since four o'clock this morning, having been up late miserably failing to post photos of, well, nothing, I am frazzled to the point of doing a list. What the Hell, I like lists.
Here goes - films slated for no good reason:

Dante's Peak (1997) - Pierce Brosnan, Linda Hamilton, Pyroclastic Cloud.

Bring It On (2000) - Kirsten Dunst, Eliza Fucking Dushku.
Cheerleaders - faultless.

The Towering Inferno (1974) - Paul Newman, Steve McQueen, Everybody.
Just the top of the 70s disaster movie food chain. Just cos The Poseidon Adventure was first doesn't make it best.

The Matrix 2 & 3 (2003) - Keanooo.
Give it a year & everyone'll be claiming they loved both these films from the get go. Just like the first one.

Rio Bravo (1959) - John Wayne, Dean Martin.
Made because the director hated High Noon - Gary Cooper being a pussy & asking everyone to help him. John Wayne needs NO ONE - but people help him anyway.

Troy (2004) - Brad Pitt, The Hulk, Endless English Luvvies.
It has much good fighting.

Showgirls (1995) - Elizabeth Berkley, Gina Gershon.
The ultimate Verhoven TV movie that wasn't made for TV. Too subtle by far.

Ghosts Of Mars (2001) Natasha Henstridge, Ice Cube.
Everybody was so into slagging John Carpenter off by this point that no one noticed he made a top B movie.

Satan's School For Girls (1973 TVM) - Kate Jackson, Cheryl Ladd.
Hammeresque (ie nothing happens) TV movie with a nubile pre - Charlie's Angels cast. Classic late night oddity.

The Exorcist (1973) - Linda Blair.
Everyone always rips into this because it's 'not scary'. It is scary.

Kansas City Bomber (1972) - Raquel Welch.
I don't know who Welch's agent was around the late 60s & early 70s, but he got her into some weird shit. This is Rollerball without the future. There's another Charlie's Angels link here involving Roller Derby and Raquel & Farrah Fawcett doing lez, but I can't be bothered to go there.

Double Tap (1997) - Heather Locklear, Peter Greenaway.
Heather as an undercover cop hooked on smack. She wears a black polar-neck very well.

Kraa! The Sea Monster (1998) - Nobody.
Sequel to Zarkorr! The Invader (1996). Admittedly I have never seen this film, but it sounds very good.

Well, I enjoyed that. I may well do another list soon. Any suggestions will be looked at then ignored.

Post One: FOOTNOTE

Jennifer Ellison is forty-six years old. That is a cold, hard fact.

Post One

Having just returned from an atomic coastal holiday, I now feel ready to post my first raving, get into the swing of things, verbally spurt jets of blood from my literary jugular. Or Whatever.
Saw Jennifer Ellison doing TOTP (Tim Kash - work on that speaking thing) in a ra-ra skirt.
She's been styled up like Baby Spice, only she's not as bald. I mean, talk about picking a seriously Ugh template. And the backing band - are they really musicians? You know, I reckon they didn't play on the record. No, really, that's what I think.
Still, awful though it is, you've gotta love ra-ras being back. It's like The Bangles never went away (They did go away, didn't they?).
Two weeks on the Devon coast - believe me I saw a lot of ra-ras. Actually, thinking about it, on The English Riviera, they probably never went out of fashion. They've all still got ash-blonde Farrahs too. And those wide white belts. And denim - lots of denim.
At Paignton Zoo one of the gibbons was wearing a ra-ra and a denim waist-coat. Luckily it had had its ONJ 'Physical' headband confiscated.
Anyway - I digress.
Ra-ra - good.
Jennifer Ellison - bad.
Paignton Zoo - it may have big, animal - friendly enclosures, but you can't see fuck all.

Helloo

Well, I'm in & I'm angry.