Alasdair Watson

Step One: Head out to shops.
Step Two: Look round shops.  See nothing.
Step Three: Phone Dad to ask what to buy Mum, and vice versa.  Discover that the things they would like cannot easily be bought in shops.
Step Four: Return Home, order on-line.

Next year, I’m not even going to bother leaving the house.

You’re in terrible danger.  Keep that in mind at all times when dealing with zoo_music_girl.  Don’t let the facade fool you for a second.  And, whatever you do don’t turn your back on her.

Yes, I know you think you’re safe.  I know you think you’re equipped to handle her.  She’s in that room, alone, restrained.  There’s an armed guard on the door.  She’s half your size.

You’re in terrible, terrible danger.

No, those other guys weren’t “just careless”.  They weren’t “poorly trained”.  zoo_music_girl really is as bad as you’ve heard.  We haven’t been able to work out the exact body count yet.

Go on, go in.  Just don’t forget.  Don’t let your guard down.  Not for an instant.  She’ll smile.  She’ll tell you pretty lies.

Then she’ll tear you apart from the inside out.

I have tomorrow off work. This pleases me, not least because the “feeling faintly rubbish” I’ve been suffering from for about three weeks now is threatening to develop into the fullblown Galloping Lungrot, so I think a bit of a rest is in order. I’m going to get my Christmas shopping done, then go to the cinema, as I haven’t been in a month or so. I’m tempted to just go and see The Incredibles again, but I (heart) Huckabees is out, and looks like it could be fantastic, and I *still* haven’t see Bad Santa. And then I plan to spend the weekend in a coma.

In other news, I am currently hooked on Firewater courtesy of zoo_music_girl. burge and stu_n, I suspect you’d like them, if you haven’t heard them already. You can listen the whole of their last-but-one album on the website, if you fancy giving them a go…

And yes, once more unto the breach…
—
budgie_uk. Where to start? With his glamorous rock star lifestyle? With the trail of broken-hearted women? With the mind-boggling quantities of drugs and booze?

Or what about his work with the St Dymphna’s Home for Limbless Orphans? The tireless hours he dedicates to bring cheer into their otherwise horrific lives with his strange circus tricks? His juggling act, in particular, is something to see, as the children crowd round him as best they can, rolling there on the floor at his feet, clamouring to be the next in the air…

Yes, budgie_uk is a remarkable chap, and no mistake. All the more so, in light of the tragic buffalo accident ten years ago that left him unable to say anything but “Yes, I’ll have two lemons and large jar of bovril, please.”

avariel_wings is the rootinest, tootinest, rassumest, frassumest, meanest varmint west of the Pecos.  I heard that she shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.  She’s wanted on 4 counts of murder, 12 counts of cattle-rustling, and 1 count of stealing candy from a baby.

When avariel_wings rolls into town, the decent folk hide under the bed.  She’ll drink the saloon dry, win every hand she gambles on, and wear out every man-whore in the place.  And when she’s done all that, she’ll rob the bank, shoot the sheriff, and ride off into the sunset, laughing maniacally, and clutching a last bottle of whisky.

So, checking to see if there’s a new Brookmyre novel coming any time soon (May next year, it turns out), I note that there’s also a new short story, “Mellow Doubt” on his website (at least it’s new to the site). It features someone who… well, it’s a character from one of his novels. Someone you may not have thought you’d see again…

Thought you lot might like a heads-up.

When thamshere set out to overthrow the government of Guam, people told him he was crazy. And he was.

When thamshere decided to paint his room with suet, people said he was insane. And he was.

When thamshere attempted to summit Everest wearing only a pink thong and a pair of Ugg Boots, people thought he was off his rocker. And he was.

thamshere has never believed in letting complete drooling insanity stop him from doing a damn thing.

Enough making up amusing rubbish about people for now.

Today, I’m going to talk about something that’s been driving me slowly up the wall for a while now. And in doing so, I may hurt the feelings of some of the people on my friends list.

Tough. If you can’t handle the notion that something you do may irritate me, you need to grow a thicker skin. God knows, I’m sure I piss enough of you off.

It’s this:

Squee!
Not around me, you don’t.

I swear to god, when I saw other people doing this one, they all seemed to get away with about three people commenting.  I thought I’d get it done in an idle afternoon.  But noooo, you bastards all had to see what I had to say, didn’t you?  I’ve got 17 of these bloody things to do in total.  I’ll probably wind up writing more than I did for several university essays.  Also, I keep having wildly improbably ideas for writing styles to do them in…

Also, I have just noticed that I’ve been averaging two to three posts a day for the last few days.  For christ’s sake, someone tell me to shut up if I look like I’m in danger of becoming tedious (or more danger than usual, at any rate).  I’d hate to get to the point where people feel compelled to defriend me for talking too much.

Anyway: burge

1:1 In the begnning, God created the heaven and the earth.

1:2 And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

1:3 And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.

1:4 And burge replied “Will you shut that sodding light off, I’m trying to get some sleep?”

1:5 And God saw the look on burge‘s face, and hastily turned the light back into darkness, and called it Night.

1:6 Day could wait.

1:7 Several Nights later burge found God sitting in the midst of the creation that he had wrought.

1:8 He had made an awful hash of it.

1:9 And burge took pity on God, and said unto him “Look, there’s these things called ‘physics’ and ‘evolution’.  If you get them right at the start, the whole creation business takes care of itself.”

1:10 And God looked at her in shock, saying “Why didn’t I think of that?”

1:11 So God started all over again, and got it right this time.

1:12 But then he came up with this thing called “Free Will”.  burge just looked at him and sighed.

It’s a gorgeous day today. I have no special reason to mention this, expect that I got off the tube at East Acton this morning, with Warren Zevon on the iPod, and it was one of those gorgeous cold Autumn mornings without a cloud in the sky, the air left clean and bright by overnight rain, and it felt great to be alive.

Monday mornings should not be like that. It just sets the rest of the week up to be a colossal disappointment.

So, on with being nice.

stu_n didn’t say in so many words that he wanted me to be nice about him, but he left a comment, and that’s good enough for me.

Of course, everyone will realise that the reason that stu_n didn’t actually say “be nice about me” is that, of course, it’s so very hard. I mean, what can one say about him that hasn’t been said before on wanted posters and warning notices?

It’s true, he’s highly skilled in the arts of inflicting pain, usually through the medium of terrible, terrible jokes. Small children have been known to cry, brave men to turn and flee, and in at least one case, a woman spontaneously combusted after hearing one of stu_n‘s jokes.

It’s also true that his depravity in the kitchen knows no bounds. A police search party for items of no possible culinary use contained in his cupboards. The array of sharp knives had obvious, if chilling, uses, but the flamethrowers and strange oils and acids were less obvious. Most worryingly of all, those guests that escaped reported the the food they were served was “unnaturally excellent”, and admitted that they were concerned about the exact nature of the meats they were served.

Mostly worryingly of all, stu_n is known to be a chemicals expert. Intelligence analysts are known to to concerned over his trips overseas to foreign processing plants, but as yet, they’ve just to catch him carrying anything more incriminating than his duty free (which some might argue is incriminating enough, but still not actually illegal) on his return. Obviously, a mind that twisted and devilish is quite capable of hiding his terrible chemical creations somewhere else, but as yet, no-one has worked out where…

I have spent the weekend (when not out doing exciting things) listening to a mix of the Albama Three and Mclusky, thanks to the iTunes store. (Which will almost certainly replace Amazon as my retailer of choice as the selection gets better – the instant gratification value of being able to buy an album in a couple of clicks, and listen to it five minutes later is fantastic.)

This is fine and dandy, indeed, it’s quite stonking, really, except that on a whim, I just looked up both those sites to see if there was any interesting news from either band.

I am cursing and swearing now. Both bands are playing in London in the next month. Mclusky is sold out (as far as I can tell), and I’m busy when the Alabama Three are playing.  I’d go to the Larry Love Showband gig on the 17th (especially since it’s quite a nice wee pub they’re playing), but I’m out of town that weekend.  Which, I’ve just realised, probably means I’m going to miss Synthetic Culture next month, too.

Ah well.  I could do with a quiet couple of weeks, anyway.

(More being “nice” to people to come tomorrow, probably.)