You can get it knitting,
You can get it sitting,
You can get it milking a cow,
Matter of fact i've got it now...
A great big thirst
Needs a nice cup of tea
And the nicest cup is Vic.
Victoria Breakfast.
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
A Conversation Very Much Imagined
This evening I found myself at West Lakes shopping centre and, through a curious set of circumstances too tedious to relate here, was wearing a suit and tie. Imagine my amusement then when I found that the centre contained a small charity mugging stand to extend African women loans or some shit.
I must have passed that stand about five times but the damn chuggers must have guessed that the game was afoot and kept their distance. This was a pity, because had they approached me the following dialogue would have ensued:
Chugger: Excuse me, would you like to...
Me: Now see here my good man. I'll have you know that I already own five factories in Nigeria alone, so if I haven't given Umbopo over there a job by now it's probably because I don't damn well want to. Good day.
People ruin all my fun.
I must have passed that stand about five times but the damn chuggers must have guessed that the game was afoot and kept their distance. This was a pity, because had they approached me the following dialogue would have ensued:
Chugger: Excuse me, would you like to...
Me: Now see here my good man. I'll have you know that I already own five factories in Nigeria alone, so if I haven't given Umbopo over there a job by now it's probably because I don't damn well want to. Good day.
People ruin all my fun.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Our Greatest Prime Ministers
For all of those out there in the blogosphere who are by now heartily sick of the porkbarrelling, gerrymandering and general stepping-in-dogshit feelings engendered by our current election between the nefarious forces of the Mad Monk and the Ginger Ninja, The Impertinence Of It All is pleased to bring you "Our Greatest Prime Ministers".
1. Alfred Deakin. As Prime Ministers go this guy was Teh Shit, as the kids say. Not content to be Prime Minister once, in 1903, he had a second go in 1905 and then changed parties (he was originally a Protectionist. Where did they go and why can't I vote for one today?) to the Commonwealth Liberals and did it again in 1909. I know that electioneering was in it's infancy in those days (Kerry O'Brian was just starting out) but Deakin must have had one hell of a slogan. I have no idea what his campaign posters looked like but a picture of him punching a Boer in the cock is what initially comes to mind.
2. Earle Page. Hit the ground running, did Earle. For 20 crazy days in April 1939 Earle Page dominated the Australian political scene. During this time he abolished slavery, made the CSIRO invent the helicopter (finally!) and shot 25 kangaroos a day from the window of his office in Parliament House (that's 500 kangaroos!) before standing down. War was coming, he knew it, and he wanted in. Rumours that he led a team of Long-Range Reconnaissance Commandos against Rommel are unfounded but persist to this day.
3. Frank Forde. Australians love a larrikin, and the Prime Minister is no exception. In 1945 Frank Forde, a snot farmer from Gudgeeplonk in Outback Melbourne, went to Canberra to tell Curtin what he thought of him. Curtin called Forde's bluff, installing him as Prime Minister while Curtin stepped out behind the Lodge for a sly fag. Unfortunately for Curtin security refused to let him back in as Forde now held the Royal Warrant. Curtin was forced to spend 9 uncomfortable days at him mum's sleeping on the couch before he could jemmy the laundry window with a safety-pin and let himself back in.
4. Harold Holt. Australia's only official cyborg Prime Minister, Holt was the result of a super-secret CSIRO research program to produce the ultimate Prime Minister: one who could lead the nation and also keep up with Dawn Fraser. Unfortunately Holt short-circuited during initial sea-trials and the project was abandoned.
5. Gough Whitlam. A true warrior in every sense of the word, Whitlam bestrode the world like a colossus, crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him and hearing the lamentations of their women. From the steppes of Outer Mongolia he rode an army of the finest horsemen ever seen. Eventually he choked on a chicken bone and got played by John Wayne in the first movie and Steven Seagal in the second.
1. Alfred Deakin. As Prime Ministers go this guy was Teh Shit, as the kids say. Not content to be Prime Minister once, in 1903, he had a second go in 1905 and then changed parties (he was originally a Protectionist. Where did they go and why can't I vote for one today?) to the Commonwealth Liberals and did it again in 1909. I know that electioneering was in it's infancy in those days (Kerry O'Brian was just starting out) but Deakin must have had one hell of a slogan. I have no idea what his campaign posters looked like but a picture of him punching a Boer in the cock is what initially comes to mind.
2. Earle Page. Hit the ground running, did Earle. For 20 crazy days in April 1939 Earle Page dominated the Australian political scene. During this time he abolished slavery, made the CSIRO invent the helicopter (finally!) and shot 25 kangaroos a day from the window of his office in Parliament House (that's 500 kangaroos!) before standing down. War was coming, he knew it, and he wanted in. Rumours that he led a team of Long-Range Reconnaissance Commandos against Rommel are unfounded but persist to this day.
3. Frank Forde. Australians love a larrikin, and the Prime Minister is no exception. In 1945 Frank Forde, a snot farmer from Gudgeeplonk in Outback Melbourne, went to Canberra to tell Curtin what he thought of him. Curtin called Forde's bluff, installing him as Prime Minister while Curtin stepped out behind the Lodge for a sly fag. Unfortunately for Curtin security refused to let him back in as Forde now held the Royal Warrant. Curtin was forced to spend 9 uncomfortable days at him mum's sleeping on the couch before he could jemmy the laundry window with a safety-pin and let himself back in.
4. Harold Holt. Australia's only official cyborg Prime Minister, Holt was the result of a super-secret CSIRO research program to produce the ultimate Prime Minister: one who could lead the nation and also keep up with Dawn Fraser. Unfortunately Holt short-circuited during initial sea-trials and the project was abandoned.
5. Gough Whitlam. A true warrior in every sense of the word, Whitlam bestrode the world like a colossus, crushing his enemies, seeing them driven before him and hearing the lamentations of their women. From the steppes of Outer Mongolia he rode an army of the finest horsemen ever seen. Eventually he choked on a chicken bone and got played by John Wayne in the first movie and Steven Seagal in the second.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Another Open Letter to Clive Cussler
Dear Mr Cussler,
Recently I read your excellent novel, 'Night Probe!', which ends, you may recall, with the United States and Canada becoming one nation, with the exception of Quebec, which gets a bit of it's French on.
However, I just picked up your more recent novel, "Arctic Drift!' which involves Canada, and I couldn't help but noticing that Canada and the US are still separate entities. Given that everything else in the novels follows on what, Mr Cussler, the fuck?
Are you just making this stuff up or something?
Yours,
DC
Recently I read your excellent novel, 'Night Probe!', which ends, you may recall, with the United States and Canada becoming one nation, with the exception of Quebec, which gets a bit of it's French on.
However, I just picked up your more recent novel, "Arctic Drift!' which involves Canada, and I couldn't help but noticing that Canada and the US are still separate entities. Given that everything else in the novels follows on what, Mr Cussler, the fuck?
Are you just making this stuff up or something?
Yours,
DC
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Sunday, August 08, 2010
My Life As A Musical
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
Hooray! Hooray!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
Bought a new brush today!
I bought a new brush,
because I felt a bit flush,
and I didn't like the old one,
thank you very much!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
Hooray! Hooray!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
I hope it's here to stay!
Hooray! Hooray!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
Bought a new brush today!
I bought a new brush,
because I felt a bit flush,
and I didn't like the old one,
thank you very much!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
Hooray! Hooray!
Today I bought a new toothbrush,
I hope it's here to stay!
Friday, August 06, 2010
Magnus: Robot Fighter
*sigh* I suppose, looking back a few years from now, i'll count this moment when the lying stopped and the self-realisation hit that I am a geek, because i've now blogged twice about new-release comics. This is getting dangerously regular.
Once more unto the breach...Dark Horse have released a new series written by 60's stalwart Jim Shooter. The first, Dr Solar, was reviewed on this emblogulation not long ago and was criticised for it's awful artwork, although the story was strong. This time, Magnus gets the opposite: good, clear (if a little lifeless and static) artwork and poor writing. You know you're on the wrong track when the old 60's version (reprinted at the back of the book) hold's a reader's attention more than the new one. Magnus is a man trained by a robot to kill bad robots. Why do the robots need to be killed? In the original, because humankind has been subjugated and needs redemption. In the reboot, because everything is hunky-dory with people but the robots are getting all uppity, forming organised-crime cartels and kidnapping people to sell as food to aliens.
That's your problem right there: in the original Magnus is a saviour, while in the reboot I was left wondering why no-one else bothered doing anything. It may be an omission, but it's glaring: in the original humans are shown pretty much like the humans in the ship in 'Wall-e', but in the reboot they're all perfectly able-bodied.
It doesn't work, much as I wanted it too. Put the artist from Magnus to work with Shooter on Dr Solar and I think you'd have a winner. Hopefully the third release in the Shooter series, Turok, will follow this path.
Once more unto the breach...Dark Horse have released a new series written by 60's stalwart Jim Shooter. The first, Dr Solar, was reviewed on this emblogulation not long ago and was criticised for it's awful artwork, although the story was strong. This time, Magnus gets the opposite: good, clear (if a little lifeless and static) artwork and poor writing. You know you're on the wrong track when the old 60's version (reprinted at the back of the book) hold's a reader's attention more than the new one. Magnus is a man trained by a robot to kill bad robots. Why do the robots need to be killed? In the original, because humankind has been subjugated and needs redemption. In the reboot, because everything is hunky-dory with people but the robots are getting all uppity, forming organised-crime cartels and kidnapping people to sell as food to aliens.
That's your problem right there: in the original Magnus is a saviour, while in the reboot I was left wondering why no-one else bothered doing anything. It may be an omission, but it's glaring: in the original humans are shown pretty much like the humans in the ship in 'Wall-e', but in the reboot they're all perfectly able-bodied.
It doesn't work, much as I wanted it too. Put the artist from Magnus to work with Shooter on Dr Solar and I think you'd have a winner. Hopefully the third release in the Shooter series, Turok, will follow this path.
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
When Elevenses Attack...
Today (well, Sunday) whilst shopping for tea, I was confronted by the sight of a new brand on the supermarket shelf. Tantalisingly, alluringly, it was called 'Just Tea'.
Now, i'm all for Just tea, but it does conjure up some odd images of a peaceful, caring society in which the quality of mercy is not strained but rather droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven.
As I stood there, picturing the utopia from which Just Tea must spring I realised that by it's very exisence, Just Tea implied the existence of Unjust Tea. The thought chilled me. Who, I asked myself, could be drinking Unjust Tea?
Presumably they sell a lot in Pyongyang.
Now, i'm all for Just tea, but it does conjure up some odd images of a peaceful, caring society in which the quality of mercy is not strained but rather droppeth like the gentle rain from heaven.
As I stood there, picturing the utopia from which Just Tea must spring I realised that by it's very exisence, Just Tea implied the existence of Unjust Tea. The thought chilled me. Who, I asked myself, could be drinking Unjust Tea?
Presumably they sell a lot in Pyongyang.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Wheels Within Wheels...
C.S. Lewis, author of the 'Narnia' series, died on exactly the same day as the Kennedy Assassination. OR DID HE?
There are many good reasons why English gent Lewis potentially wanted Kennedy dead. For example:
1. Kennedy was a Catholic, Lewis was a Protestant. Screwtape didn't like Catholics.
2. Lewis was about talking lions. Kennedy was slipping a length to Marylin Monroe. Join the dots.
3. Lewis' book 'Peleandra' contains detailed numeric references to the exact wind-shear factor which had to be taken into account by the shooter in Dallas.
4. The Zapruder footage shows a seemingly innocuous wardrobe behind the grassy knoll.
There are many good reasons why English gent Lewis potentially wanted Kennedy dead. For example:
1. Kennedy was a Catholic, Lewis was a Protestant. Screwtape didn't like Catholics.
2. Lewis was about talking lions. Kennedy was slipping a length to Marylin Monroe. Join the dots.
3. Lewis' book 'Peleandra' contains detailed numeric references to the exact wind-shear factor which had to be taken into account by the shooter in Dallas.
4. The Zapruder footage shows a seemingly innocuous wardrobe behind the grassy knoll.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Its an oft-used phrase but there's nothing new under the sun, and nothing proves it quite like today's post on Sniff Petrol, the increasingly erratic car-related website we all loved then got quite bored with when it wasn't being updated for six months at a stretch. However, there's nothing like Ferrari tomfoolery to get ol' Sniff back in action, so thanks to the fact that he's been stuck in an 'I hate Ferrari' time-warp for the last few years, the minute the Maranello team a) lead a race and b) break the rules, Sniff's back in the saddle like the years since Schumacher's retirement never happened. Those old faves are back, D.I. Blundell and Crazy Dave, both of whom were conspicuous by their absence when there was nothing to whinge about, Englishmen were winning championships and Ferrari were in the middle of the pack.
How about a story on Red Bull? What about the Brawn team winning on debut last year? No, while the entire face of F1 was busy changing Sniff was busy piddling on, wearing his Ferrari hairshirt and being irrelevant. Now, for one brief shining moment he's managed to recycle the zeitgeist, like a hippy who wore flares for so long that one day he went for a walk and slightly fewer people laughed at him.
Congratulations, sniff. Now fuck off again.
How about a story on Red Bull? What about the Brawn team winning on debut last year? No, while the entire face of F1 was busy changing Sniff was busy piddling on, wearing his Ferrari hairshirt and being irrelevant. Now, for one brief shining moment he's managed to recycle the zeitgeist, like a hippy who wore flares for so long that one day he went for a walk and slightly fewer people laughed at him.
Congratulations, sniff. Now fuck off again.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
How To Blow Up A Whale
Humans are by-and-large a coastal species. If you live by the sea for any stretch of time (in species time) sooner or later you're going to have to deal with a beached whale. Generally these can be rehabilitated back into the ocean by being kept wet and threatened with bagpipes (the bagpipe is the hereditary enemy of the celaphod), but every once in a while one will up and kark it.
If the whale has died, two things are important. First you must make sure that all of the people who tried to keep it alive know that they have failed. Guilt and the stress of holding a watering can over a whale for 72 hours without a break can often combine in hilarious ways. I recommend a camera phone and a quick upload to youtube. Hell, if you can't keep the damn whale alive, you might as well go viral.
Secondly, despite what the Greens may say, whales aren't constructed of hugs an unicorn farts. They're usually full of blubber and guts and other whale shit that starts to go off quite quickly. With all of the angry tree-huggers still milling about the opportunity to cut off a big hunk and have a barbecue is not going to be there (despite it being the only time that harvesting and eating whale would be acceptable) so there's only one thing left to do to stop disease spreading from the slowly-putrefying carcass: blow it up.
This is not as easy as it sounds. For a start, in western society explosives are not easy to get hold of in large quantities....or are they?
To blow up a whale, you will need:
1. Grease;
2. A flatbed tow-truck;
3. A Caltex Starcard;
4. Quite a lot of duct tape;
5. A biggish cork or bung
6. A marine flare.
The first step is to securely tape the carcasse's mouth shut. Go around the head using a single piece of tape in a spiral motion. Once this is achieved, you need to get the whale up onto the back of the tow-truck. You may think that it would be quite difficult to persuade a tow-truck driver to help, but in my experience if you explain the situation quite fully most tow-truck operators are only too keen to give it a go and in some cases even waive their fee.
Once the whale carcass is on the truck, drive to the petrol station. It's handy here to have nicked the fuel card from a work vehicle earlier. Whales can usually hold several hundred litres of petrol (assuming the mouth is securely taped up) which can get pricey. As in the case of the tow-truck driver, once you explain the situation most service station attendants will be only too happy to help out. Once at the service station the filling of the carcass is simplicity itself. Simply climb on top of the whale and shove the fuel nozzle straight in the blowhole. Depending on the pump speed filling shouldn't take more than five minutes. When the carcass is filled, pop the cork in the blowhole and bob's your uncle.
Drive to wherever you have decided to blow up the whale from. Ideally this should be out of the suburban area. Try to avoid shopping-centre carparks.
Once the site has been selected, place the whale on the ground and remove the cork from it's blowhole, replacing it with the marine flare. The petrochemical contents of the dead whale may have settled during transit, so it may be necessary to top it up a bit from a jerry-can.
Move everyone except yourself to a safe distance. Light the flare. Run like hell. Assuming you're not drunk* you should be able to reach cover before the flare burns low enough to ignite the petrol.
Film it and put it on youtube, next to the video you prepared earlier. For heaven's sake, footage of exploding whales is exactly what youtube is for.
*Don't be drunk. Alcohol and blowing up whales JUST DON'T MIX.
If the whale has died, two things are important. First you must make sure that all of the people who tried to keep it alive know that they have failed. Guilt and the stress of holding a watering can over a whale for 72 hours without a break can often combine in hilarious ways. I recommend a camera phone and a quick upload to youtube. Hell, if you can't keep the damn whale alive, you might as well go viral.
Secondly, despite what the Greens may say, whales aren't constructed of hugs an unicorn farts. They're usually full of blubber and guts and other whale shit that starts to go off quite quickly. With all of the angry tree-huggers still milling about the opportunity to cut off a big hunk and have a barbecue is not going to be there (despite it being the only time that harvesting and eating whale would be acceptable) so there's only one thing left to do to stop disease spreading from the slowly-putrefying carcass: blow it up.
This is not as easy as it sounds. For a start, in western society explosives are not easy to get hold of in large quantities....or are they?
To blow up a whale, you will need:
1. Grease;
2. A flatbed tow-truck;
3. A Caltex Starcard;
4. Quite a lot of duct tape;
5. A biggish cork or bung
6. A marine flare.
The first step is to securely tape the carcasse's mouth shut. Go around the head using a single piece of tape in a spiral motion. Once this is achieved, you need to get the whale up onto the back of the tow-truck. You may think that it would be quite difficult to persuade a tow-truck driver to help, but in my experience if you explain the situation quite fully most tow-truck operators are only too keen to give it a go and in some cases even waive their fee.
Once the whale carcass is on the truck, drive to the petrol station. It's handy here to have nicked the fuel card from a work vehicle earlier. Whales can usually hold several hundred litres of petrol (assuming the mouth is securely taped up) which can get pricey. As in the case of the tow-truck driver, once you explain the situation most service station attendants will be only too happy to help out. Once at the service station the filling of the carcass is simplicity itself. Simply climb on top of the whale and shove the fuel nozzle straight in the blowhole. Depending on the pump speed filling shouldn't take more than five minutes. When the carcass is filled, pop the cork in the blowhole and bob's your uncle.
Drive to wherever you have decided to blow up the whale from. Ideally this should be out of the suburban area. Try to avoid shopping-centre carparks.
Once the site has been selected, place the whale on the ground and remove the cork from it's blowhole, replacing it with the marine flare. The petrochemical contents of the dead whale may have settled during transit, so it may be necessary to top it up a bit from a jerry-can.
Move everyone except yourself to a safe distance. Light the flare. Run like hell. Assuming you're not drunk* you should be able to reach cover before the flare burns low enough to ignite the petrol.
Film it and put it on youtube, next to the video you prepared earlier. For heaven's sake, footage of exploding whales is exactly what youtube is for.
*Don't be drunk. Alcohol and blowing up whales JUST DON'T MIX.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Dr Solar, Man of The Atom!
Those who know me well will know that one of the indulgences I allow myself is the reading of comic books. Usually, I read Dark Horse Comics, as they have the most interesting stuff: The Goon, Conan, Hellboy and a lot of good little short-run things usually involving the Whedons. I don't usually stray away from this except to buy graphic novels, but lately i've been getting into Marvel (World War Hulks, to be exact) and I have to say it's opened my eyes. Thus, when DH announced that they would be publishing a new run of Dr Solar, I was enthused. Dark Horse publishing superhero stories? Sounds great.
It wasn't. I got the first issue today and while the writing was quite good the artwork was terrible, and as comics are a predominately visual medium this impacted on my enjoyment a lot. Dark Horse, if you're going to continue with thr superhero stories, could you please:
1. Draw the comic in such a way that I can follow it between frames. In Dr Solar the framing was just a non-connected series of shots. Comics grew out of that in the Forties, for hubbard's sake.
2. Have your characters engage. Some non-stock poses would be nice, as would characters making eye contact instead of standing around like mannequins. Facial expressions are always good, too.
3. Pay attention to what's supposed to be happening. If you don't draw it, I can't see it. It's the first issue, I have no idea what powers Dr Solar has, so having him point vaguely in the direction of the bad guy, with a corresponding 'fwoom!' coming from said villain does nothing to tell me what just happened. Nothing.
4. Stop the 'photo-realistic' artwork. How realistic was it? Have you ever seen the animated Lord of the Rings? About like that.
Dr Solar looks promising and could be quite fun. Dark Horse, why don't you pick up a Marvel or a DC and take some notes on how a superhero story should be drawn. They're where they are today for a reason.
It wasn't. I got the first issue today and while the writing was quite good the artwork was terrible, and as comics are a predominately visual medium this impacted on my enjoyment a lot. Dark Horse, if you're going to continue with thr superhero stories, could you please:
1. Draw the comic in such a way that I can follow it between frames. In Dr Solar the framing was just a non-connected series of shots. Comics grew out of that in the Forties, for hubbard's sake.
2. Have your characters engage. Some non-stock poses would be nice, as would characters making eye contact instead of standing around like mannequins. Facial expressions are always good, too.
3. Pay attention to what's supposed to be happening. If you don't draw it, I can't see it. It's the first issue, I have no idea what powers Dr Solar has, so having him point vaguely in the direction of the bad guy, with a corresponding 'fwoom!' coming from said villain does nothing to tell me what just happened. Nothing.
4. Stop the 'photo-realistic' artwork. How realistic was it? Have you ever seen the animated Lord of the Rings? About like that.
Dr Solar looks promising and could be quite fun. Dark Horse, why don't you pick up a Marvel or a DC and take some notes on how a superhero story should be drawn. They're where they are today for a reason.
Wednesday, July 07, 2010
The Tweelight Saga
I will confess to feeling a little bit of shock and awe today upon reading the news that a New Zealand chap had died whilst watching the new Twilight movie.
Please, gentle reader, exercise caution when watching this movie as it is apparently now possible to be bored to death.
Please, gentle reader, exercise caution when watching this movie as it is apparently now possible to be bored to death.
Friday, July 02, 2010
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Office...
Today as I was walking back to the office whilst on the tail-end of my lunchbreak, I saw an advertisement on the back of a bus. It was a largish ad with a couple of wine glasses and beer bottles and the words, in cursive: "Don't take the cat."
As I am an Englishman by both descent and inclination, I was immediately affronted. While I have no idea where it was suggesting I shouldn't take my cat, It seemed to me that although I rarely take my cat anywhere, whenever I do I generally have a pretty good reason and, frankly, am not about to be arbitrarily gainsaid by a bit of vinyl tacked on the side of public transport.
It was about then I realised it actually said "Don't take the car" and was, presumably, about the dangers inherent in drink-driving. I felt a bit strange after that.
As I am an Englishman by both descent and inclination, I was immediately affronted. While I have no idea where it was suggesting I shouldn't take my cat, It seemed to me that although I rarely take my cat anywhere, whenever I do I generally have a pretty good reason and, frankly, am not about to be arbitrarily gainsaid by a bit of vinyl tacked on the side of public transport.
It was about then I realised it actually said "Don't take the car" and was, presumably, about the dangers inherent in drink-driving. I felt a bit strange after that.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Congratulations!
The Impertinence Of It All would like to welcome to the helm of this great nation Julia Gillard, our first ever Prime Ministrix.
The Impertinence Of It All is also proud to announce that it is the first media outlet to use the term 'Prime Ministrix'.
Even if I can't spell 'weird' properly.
The Impertinence Of It All is also proud to announce that it is the first media outlet to use the term 'Prime Ministrix'.
Even if I can't spell 'weird' properly.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Things Were A Bit Wierd In The Good Old Days
Recently I found myself at a loose end so I went down to my local secondhand bookshop and bought six books for $1 from the minda basket at the front. Taken as a job lot these books have been exceptionally good, from the Roman splendour of 'Ben-Hur' by Lew Wallace to 'The Moon's A Balloon' by David Niven.
One of the other books was 'The Rats' by James Herbert. Again, quite good. It was one of the most bloodthirsty books i've read in a long time, an achievement which was only enhanced by the bookmark I found in it which was handmade by someone called 'Ally'. I can only assume Ally was about 12 given the love-hearts and flowers drawn on it. Granted the bookmark was not particularly far into the book, but I do hope Ally wasn't scarred for life too much.
One of the best aspects of this book (after it's being a taught, well-written horror story about terrier-sized rats invading London) was the ending, where the hero (a teacher) figures out where Rat HQ is and drives over there to kill the psychically-enhanced rat king with an axe (that'll learn 'em). I'm used to American horror from Stephen King where cars are used quite regularly, so it was a bit of a shock when, in the middle of the driving scene in which the rats are attacking the car and getting run over and stuff, I remembered that earlier in the book it was mentioned that the teacher's car was a Hillman Minx.
That's right, the one at the top of this post. As far as i'm concerned i'd be packing death* if I were battling killer rats in Battle Truck, let alone a post-war British sedan with a 1275cc engine and a whopping 28kW. In terms of automotive achievement that's like Odysseus swimming home while a shark nipped at his love-spuds. Awesome.
*This marks the first use of this term by the author since 1988.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
This Is Wierd
I've been writing the new novel about vampires. This has led me to a startling discovery. A vampire is only active at night, eats only high-protein liquids, can only be totally destroyed by fire, only needs to feed spasmodically, regenerates hermaphroditically and generates no body heat.
We have other creatures like this on the planet, a whole kingdom of them: the Plant Kingdom. That's right, my research leads me to believe that vampires are plants, not animals. If a plant evolved to the point of intelligence, I think it would have all of the currently-accepted traits of a vampire.
Odd.
We have other creatures like this on the planet, a whole kingdom of them: the Plant Kingdom. That's right, my research leads me to believe that vampires are plants, not animals. If a plant evolved to the point of intelligence, I think it would have all of the currently-accepted traits of a vampire.
Odd.
Friday, June 11, 2010
This Is Not Good
I went shopping today for shoes, and whilst browsing in the vendosphere, I saw something that simply should not be.
Tracky-dack cargos.
That's right. Cargo pants made from that awful grey-marle tracky-dack material. With the knee pockets and everything. Who is wearing this sort of thing? Is anyone that fucked up that they're thinking: 'you know what my life needs? For these gosh-darned cargo pants to be softer and warmer, like a big grey pair of military pyjamas. Perhaps they're designed to be worn with those knee-high lace-up ugg boots that have bafflingly become popular again.
However, I suppose I shouldn't complain, as today's expedition wasn't all bad. I found a Marvel Comic from 1983 in which Conan the Barbarian gets transported to the 20th century, dresses like a pimp and BEATS THE SHIT out of Captain America. Runs the dude through with a sword. Wow.
Tracky-dack cargos.
That's right. Cargo pants made from that awful grey-marle tracky-dack material. With the knee pockets and everything. Who is wearing this sort of thing? Is anyone that fucked up that they're thinking: 'you know what my life needs? For these gosh-darned cargo pants to be softer and warmer, like a big grey pair of military pyjamas. Perhaps they're designed to be worn with those knee-high lace-up ugg boots that have bafflingly become popular again.
However, I suppose I shouldn't complain, as today's expedition wasn't all bad. I found a Marvel Comic from 1983 in which Conan the Barbarian gets transported to the 20th century, dresses like a pimp and BEATS THE SHIT out of Captain America. Runs the dude through with a sword. Wow.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Random Doobings
It was a dejected and rather red-faced Captain Doobie that walked through the front door. He was followed shortly after by a resigned-looking Goodtime Slim.
"Shall I put the kettle on?" asked Captain Doobie with false brightness.
Goodtime Slim's glare was all the answer he received.
"I don't see what you're upset about," said Captain Doobie as he slommocked his way over to the couch, "It's not like you did anything."
"No," replied Goodtime Slim in what could only be described as a biting fashion, "I didn't need to. You did the lot, didn't you?"
"It's not my fault!" Captain Doobie wailed.
"Isn't it? Whose bloody fault is it then?"
There was a pause.
"Alright, it is my fault," conceded Captain Doobie, "but I do wish you wouldn't take on so."
Goodtime Slim settled back in his chair and folded his hands above his small paunch. "What have we learned today?" he asked, "and by 'we' I mean specifically 'you'."
"That it's important to dress for every occasion."
"Indeed. Any why, in this specific instance was that a requirement you should have followed?"
"Because I had paint splattered on my trousers."
"What colour paint?"
"Red."
Goodtime Slim nodded. "So, with red paint splashed all down your pants, where should you have not gone?"
Captain Doobie nudged the floor with his toe. "The blood bank."
"Exactly. If I were you, i'd send them a bunch of flowers or something."
"Shall I put the kettle on?" asked Captain Doobie with false brightness.
Goodtime Slim's glare was all the answer he received.
"I don't see what you're upset about," said Captain Doobie as he slommocked his way over to the couch, "It's not like you did anything."
"No," replied Goodtime Slim in what could only be described as a biting fashion, "I didn't need to. You did the lot, didn't you?"
"It's not my fault!" Captain Doobie wailed.
"Isn't it? Whose bloody fault is it then?"
There was a pause.
"Alright, it is my fault," conceded Captain Doobie, "but I do wish you wouldn't take on so."
Goodtime Slim settled back in his chair and folded his hands above his small paunch. "What have we learned today?" he asked, "and by 'we' I mean specifically 'you'."
"That it's important to dress for every occasion."
"Indeed. Any why, in this specific instance was that a requirement you should have followed?"
"Because I had paint splattered on my trousers."
"What colour paint?"
"Red."
Goodtime Slim nodded. "So, with red paint splashed all down your pants, where should you have not gone?"
Captain Doobie nudged the floor with his toe. "The blood bank."
"Exactly. If I were you, i'd send them a bunch of flowers or something."
Wednesday, June 09, 2010
Why Citroen Suck.
Pricing was announced today for the Citroen DS3. I had my eye on the DS3 Racing, a turboed, worked version with 150kW.
Today it was announced that the base model, 70kW dunger version would start at $32000.
WTF??? The dealer i've been talking to tried to tell me that this was 'in line' with the Mini Cooper S and the Alfa Mito. Cars that, I reminded him, I have already failed to buy because I consider them ridiculously overpriced.
I then reminded him of other small hatchbacks in the 70kW range, cars like the Hyundai Getz ($14000), Kia Rio ($13000) and Suzuki Alto ($13000). Granted, the DS3 Racing is likely to be better in handling and quality than these, but the base model probably isn't.
Where is the extra $20000 going? Do they expect me to pay Posh Tax on a bloody French car now? This is the same company that made the 2CV, for crying out loud, a car that shared many characteristics with the Volkswagen Beetle except popularity.
This is ridiculous. The Aussie-built 1.4 Turbo Cruze is looking pretty damn good right now. Hell, compared to the base model DS3 the Kia Cerato Koup has more power, looks better and is almost $10000 cheaper!!!
Why do car companies keep doing this? Why is Skoda a cheap and nasty version of Volkswagen in Europe but a 'premium' brand here? Do they think we don't notice? Thank goodness for the Japanese and the Koreans I say.
Today it was announced that the base model, 70kW dunger version would start at $32000.
WTF??? The dealer i've been talking to tried to tell me that this was 'in line' with the Mini Cooper S and the Alfa Mito. Cars that, I reminded him, I have already failed to buy because I consider them ridiculously overpriced.
I then reminded him of other small hatchbacks in the 70kW range, cars like the Hyundai Getz ($14000), Kia Rio ($13000) and Suzuki Alto ($13000). Granted, the DS3 Racing is likely to be better in handling and quality than these, but the base model probably isn't.
Where is the extra $20000 going? Do they expect me to pay Posh Tax on a bloody French car now? This is the same company that made the 2CV, for crying out loud, a car that shared many characteristics with the Volkswagen Beetle except popularity.
This is ridiculous. The Aussie-built 1.4 Turbo Cruze is looking pretty damn good right now. Hell, compared to the base model DS3 the Kia Cerato Koup has more power, looks better and is almost $10000 cheaper!!!
Why do car companies keep doing this? Why is Skoda a cheap and nasty version of Volkswagen in Europe but a 'premium' brand here? Do they think we don't notice? Thank goodness for the Japanese and the Koreans I say.
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