Monthly Archives: May 2007

Death By Chocolate

Just wanted to share an email I received this morning from my friend Andy Watt:

“i’m watching one of those awful greedy c**t property developer, homes under the hammer shows, theres a couple that have just bought an old unused chapel, no garden, but it does have a massive graveyard outside the front door. the woman described it as “really
chocolate box”

what fucking chocolates does she eat?!!

and all because the lady loves……………..corpses.”

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Face Off

Good lord. I’ve been a member of Facebook for about three weeks now and I swear it’s the online equivalent of Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. I can’t BELIEVE how many people have signed up/friended/messaged/poked me in the last week. (NB: when I say “poked”, it’s not rude – just a Facebook function.) It’s as though Facebook is spreading around the world so quickly that the speed is making the planet spin just a little faster on its axis.

It’s actually making me a little nervous. I’m hoping the glamour wears off after a while and we all go out and get some fresh air. Until then, I’ve just joined a group who love kakapo and am now a member of the Hiro Nakamura Appreciation Society. And I’m happy to read everything my friends are posting because there’s no such thing as privacy on Facebook – it’s out there for the world to see.

Damn, it’s compulsive.

You’ll soon be one of us.

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I always wanted to travel the world…

I just appeared on over 282 million television sets.

Alright, so perhaps not all of them were turned on. And many were sitting in hotel rooms in far-flung corners of the globe, probably being ignored by travellers more interested in buying pay-per-view porn.

But still… 282 million. That’s pretty impressive, isn’t it?

It was all thanks to the BBC World Service, who interviewed me about the 30th anniversary of Star Wars earlier today and then broadcast the result across the planet. They sent a swish taxi to pick me up from the office where I’m working at the moment (on a Top Sekrit project, dontchaknow) to take me to BBC TV Centre – and did you know that there’s almost always a little crowd by the gatehouse who peer into the cars and pray that you’re someone famous? I felt like such a fraud as a gang of hopeful teenagers tried to suss out if they knew me or not…

I’ve been to BBC TV Centre a few times now, but it actually felt a little sad this time round thanks to the proliferation of banners and posters voicing support for kidnapped BBC journalist Alan Johnston:

The reception area was covered in posters and the corridors leading to the BBC World studios were hung with his image. It’s like the whole building – no, the entire corporation – is holding its breath, waiting for news. Between him and Madeleine McCann, there are a lot of people hoping right now. It’s a glum old world.

Glum was certainly the word for the two fellow guests I shared the green room with before the show: one was an American journalist who talked about the Iraq war, the other a doctor roped in to explain Parkinson’s disease. We discussed how President Bush would probably veto any bill passed in Congress against war funding and how coroners were too scared to ask bereaved families for permission to harvest their loved ones for tissue to be used in medical research. I have to say, following the guys on screen after such doom and gloom to talk about light’n’fluffy Star Wars was a bit of a challenge, but the interview went really well.

Bloody good job, too. 282 million screens. Holy mackerel! I’m so glad I was having a good hair day. And didn’t have spots. And didn’t look fat. Well, it had to happen sooner or later, and I’m pleased it happened when I went global. There is a God! Or at least an Archangel For Television Appearances.

The weirdest thing was that the BBC receptionist was wearing shorts, and when he stepped out from behind the desk he was barefoot. Auntie Beeb has apparently relaxed her dress code of late…

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A Word From Joss Whedon

Everybody should read this. And everybody needs to look at the sky.

Let’s Watch A Girl Get Beaten To Death

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Things to say "hello" to…

My friend Natalie had a beautiful baby girl a few days ago. My friend Liz had a baby boy. Young Sureyya and young Freddie are no doubt destined to grow up and fall in love. Fate has decreed it so!

Congratulations to both families – and may your new offspring live long and happy lives!

Not quite as momentous, true, but I have new baby too: a shiny iPod. After years remaining loyal to my faithful Sony Walkman (won in an SFX quiz many years ago), I wandered by the iPod store in Regent Street and pondered whether I should indulge myself – only to discover the very next morning that my Walkman had given up the ghost. I honestly think my traitorous thoughts broke its heart. Still, now I have 550 songs (and counting) in my pocket, am downloading stupid amounts from iTunes and had the joy of watching the Vodcast of Have I Got News For You on the train to work this morning. Gave me the warm fuzzies, it did!

The only downside is that the screen merrily displays whatever I’m listening to, and I’m convinced my fellow commuters are judging me for liking Ricky Martin. Bugger.

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Because you can never have enough pictures of Nathan Fillion…

Okay, sorry to bore anyone out there who really doesn’t care about Nathan Fillion, but I wanted to share this picture of myself and Dave Bradley – editor of SFX magazine – shamelessly gatecrashing my friend Mandeep’s photo with him:

And… that’s quite enough of The Fillion now.

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I’d like a new heart now, please

[No spoilers here!]

Just saw the season two finale of Supernatural: an episode named, not inappropriately, “All Hell Breaks Loose”, although in my case it could just as easily have been called “Let’s Rip Jayne’s Heart Out And Stomp On It Quite A Lot”.

Man, that made me blub. And smile. And realise Supernatural is my most favouritest* piece of telly around at the moment, even over Heroes, and I love THAT show so much I want to hug it and squeeze it and smoosh it to bits.

When I was a kid I’d look forward to Christmasses and birthdays so desperately that I’d get butterflies in my tummy for weeks beforehand. Nowadays I don’t really care about Christmasses and birthdays; that butterfly feeling flares up before I watch an awesome TV show. Knowing that Supernatural was gearing up for a kickass finale, I had a fluttery tummy for the whole of this week and it was a glorious feeling when that kickass episode didn’t disappoint.

I’m glad I still get butterflies – it proves I’m young at heart. (Either that, or I really need to stop drinking the coffee from the vending machines at work.)

Anyway, I’ll sum up with this: OMFGWTFSPN! Which, as I’m sure you agree when you watch the episode, really says it all.

* What? Favouritest is totally a real word.

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